#have you ever even read the history that you so claim to have happened?

[aurorasandsad-prose]

The number of braindead people in this world who have never had a single original thought in their lives is actually nauseating.

[edenfenixblogs]

2 am rant cuz I can’t sleep:

I’ve stated repeatedly that I’m pro-Palestine and pro-peace, so I obviously want a two sided, negotiated ceasefire and permanent peace for all. I’ve repeatedly stated that I do not condone the degree of heavy bombing taking place in Gaza.

But it’s currently 2:15 in the morning and I am haunted. I’m haunted by the fact that the world saw the brutal attack on Jews and celebrated. I’m haunted by the number of high l-profile celebrities who felt moved to speak out for Palestine — wearing flags and pins and signing demands for Israel to stop bombing, but who said nothing about the dead and tortured and kidnapped Jews.

Yes, what is happening in Palestine is and continues to be a tragedy.

But apparently what happened and is happening to Jews worldwide and Israelis of all religions simply isn’t. At least not enough of one. Not enough of one to move these high-profile folks to speak out for us. Not enough of a tragedy to say the names of the hostages, including one forced to give birth while kidnapped by terrorists. Not enough of a tragedy to condemn the violence happening against Jews. Not enough to speak out on behalf of a 20-year-old singer made to fear for her life because she dared to be from Israel and sing about her own trauma instead of, idk, bursting into flame or shutting up or whatever the mob wanted her to do.

No. What happens to us isn’t a tragedy. It’s a nuisance. It’s a nuisance to have to care about Jews. It gets in the way of everyone else feeling good about their “radical activism” and self-aggrandizing bravery. People of all levels and types of fame. All of whom say they only want peace and an end to pain. Yet when they mention pain, it’s always and only the Palestinian flag. When they want a ceasefire, it’s always an only in reference to Palestine. But they wouldn’t be caught dead asking for an end to Hamas or Hezbollah bombs or even acknowledging that they exist. All calls for peace involve asking Israel to lay down arms but no call for anyone attack Israel, Israelis, or Jews worldwide to do the same.

From large creators to small creators to people in day to day life, non-Jews around the world have made clear that it would be more convenient for them if we Jews just died. If we stopped ever defending ourselves or speaking up or being sad in public.

The vast majority of people speaking out would or will view this post as a justification of violence. But it’s not. It’s a condemnation of complicity from people who claim to care about peace. It is a condemnation of those who claim to be against antisemitism yet refuse to listen when Jews point out how they are contributing to and spreading more antisemitism. People and institutions worldwide have failed Jews everywhere.

Cats Blanchett

Mark Ruffalo

Billie Eilish

Viola Davis

Lena Heady

Susan Sarandon

Ava DuVernay

Hozier

Sara Ramirez

Annie Lennox

Cynthia Nixon

Angelina Jolie

Multiple UN groups and resolutions

College students and professors across the world

Friends I’ve had for 8 years who don’t even respond to messages that I have moved out of state or even spoken to me in at least five months

So many people who are so eager to read every bit of pro-Palestine news that exists and condemn every action from Israel.

And yet…

Before the bombings. Before the reprisals. Before all the violence from Israel: where were they? All these people who so desperately beg for peace (as defined by the end of Israeli aggression only): where were they when it was just dead Jews? Where were the Instagram posts and educational content and in depth analyses of Israeli trauma and history? Where were the condemnations of Hamas? Where were those who are moved to speak for anyone and everyone but Jews?

Are we really supposed to believe any of you actually want peace? When you chant for the globalization of terror tactics that traumatized a generation of Israeli Jews? When you fail to acknowledge Jewish history in any way except to minimize it?

Before the bombing campaign, where were the red carpet statement pins and gowns featuring Jewish stars?

How are we Jews anywhere in the world literally ever supposed to believe that you’re not actively cheering for our deaths? Maybe not in front of our faces, but certainly behind our backs. We know. We know you’re afraid to be less than tactful in front of us, but that you describe our rapes and murders and social exclusion and kidnappings as “unfortunate but necessary.”

I’m reminded of when Israel was first created. At a time where every Jew on earth was traumatized directly because the Holocaust firsthand, Britain left the territory of mandatory Palestine and the UN allowed for the creation of a Jewish state. And then proceeded to heckle the traumatized survivors for handling its creation poorly. The Nakba is a tragedy and an outrage and I’ll never deny that.

But…y’all are no different from the people who stood on the sidelines as Israel was first created. Why was it up to an actively traumatized people who had very recently (and after a continuous 2,000 year period of expulsions and pogroms and murders) been slaughtered on an industrial scale to somehow create a perfect and stable government in a land where people despised them?

The world needs to own up to the fact that everything that ever went wrong in Israel’s creation is a direct result of the continuous and still ongoing contempt for Jews by all the other countries that could have stepped in to help and provide Jews with a guarantee of safety at any time in the last 2,000 years in general but also since 1934 specifically. And you didn’t. Your great grandparents and grandparents and parents all didn’t do jack shit. And you are following in their footsteps. You are all doing just as they did: standing on the sidelines and heckling the Jews you don’t like for fighting back too aggressively.

But what exactly have you or anyone else done to help Jews in your communities or in Israel to not feel like caged animals forced to fight for survival? Like wild beasts you let loose for slaughter in a coliseum for your own enjoyment? At what point have you worked to provide Jews with other options? How have you made the Jews in your life feel safe or seen during this time? How have you started to deconstruct the harmful anti-Jewish bias you inherited from the people you love?

Is it ok that Netanyahu and the Likud government is bombing Palestine to the extent it is currently doing? Of course not. And I’ll never say otherwise.

But aside from yelling “hey stop it!” at Israel or “you’re complicit!” at Jews who fail to join your chanting, what exactly have you done at any point since this started to make the world safer for any of us?

Because from what I can see, the vast majority of you have done nothing. And every Jew I’ve spoken to in the last half a year has seen the exact same nothing.

Too many of you are too concerned with being on the right side of history. Most of you aren’t famous actors or musicians or whatever. Most of you are just people. History won’t remember you individually. Who knows what history will say about the movements of which you were a part? My guess is that you’ll be called passionate and outraged and sympathetic, but ultimately disorganized and misguided.

But you know who will remember you? Every Jew you’ve encountered since 10/7. We will remember each individual we saw who celebrated our death or ghosted us or made us feel unwelcome in our own lives.

We will remember you forever. And not fondly.

[cynthiav06]

I cannot believe how this hasn't been addressed in the PJO Fandom yet but does no one notice that the books, Rick himself glosses over or downplays the fact that PERCY FUCKING JACKSON GAVE UP IMMORTALITY!!!

And in reason as to why Percy gave up immortality?

The Percabeth stans are only too happy to make "Oh Percy gave up immortality for Annabeth." The hell he did. Have we read the same books? Are you really demeaning the importance of what Percy did. Cause here's what happened, and here's why it's so important:

PERCY GAVE UP IMMORTALITY SO THAT GODS COULD CLAIM DEMIGOD CHILDREN EARLY SO THAT THEY DO NOT REMAIN DEFENSELESS.

Furthermore, he did it so CHILDREN OF MINOR GODS COULD HAVE A PLACE TO BELONG TO, TO HAVE IDENTITY OF THEIR OWN, SO MINOR GODS THEMSELVES CAN BE PROPERLY ACKNOWLEDGED.

Similarly, he further added that CHILDREN OF HADES SHOULD NOT BE OSTRACIZED, THEY AS WELL AS HADES DESERVE TO BE WELCOME INTO OLYMPUS AND INTO CAMP , DESERVE PROPER RESPECT.

What ticks me off the most is how such an important sacrifice such an important change is never addressed again to the extent it deserves.

Cause this is not a surface level thing. This is going to change and better the lives of all demigods that come after or even demigods who were wrongly forced to remain in Hermes Cabin. A safe, more respectful, more meaningful environment for all demigods no matter who their godly parent is.

Are you telling that children of minor gods don't literally worship Percy for doing all this? Don't wholly completely feel grateful at least that he voiced out for them over his own difficulties? That he made a safe place for them happen?

Are you telling me that Minor Gods themselves don't feel at least a little grateful and respect Percy who did this of his own volition without having even met many Minor Gods. That he voiced out for their own children when they couldn't?

Are you telling me that Travis and Connor or any other demigods and cabin counselors don't automatically rave on about the greatness of Percy Jackson to any new arrivals in Camp Half-Blood?

Cause we were robbed of this of a proper homage to the sacrifice other demigods, Luke himself and Percy himself made to make it happen.

Piper, Leo , and Jason all seem so ignorant to it. Even newer demigods in Chalice of Gods or other books seem ignorant to this, and that's so against the usual canon representation of Camp Half-Blood as a community.

We should have seen it in Lost Hero, should have seen it in Chalice of Gods, should have seen it acknowledge repeatedly. You know why?

Yes, Percy didn't want immortality, but don't you know that deep down Percy knew exactly what immortality meant? Eternal protection from his father in his realm. No Gods bothering him, no more sacrifices or death quests. Freedom to do what he wants. To be able to spend time with his family as long as he wants without the worry of risking their safety. And he gave it all up

NOT EVEN IMMORTALITY. GODS WOULD HAVE GRANTED ANY WISH. HE COULD HAVE WISHED ANYTHING. FOR HIM TO BE PROTECTED? NO MORE QUESTS? FOR GODS TO LEAVE HIM ALONE? HE GAVE IT ALL UP, ALL OF IT.

Perseus blood Jackson made happen what no one in the History of Camp Half-Blood has ever done. He managed to make Gods change their ignorant ways. He dismantled a culture of neglect and abuse.

And the fact Rick himself let this happen, let all this gloss over, and the fact that Percabeth stans have the AUDACITY to insinuate that he did for Annabeth and demean Luke's sacrifice, Percy's sacrifice is beyond me.

[howtofightwrite]

Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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[thewoodbine]

NON JEWS PLEASE READ: I wrote this specifically for non Jewish people who are interested in listening to minorities speak about their own issues. I genuinely hope this helps you understand how so many of us are feeling right now because this just keeps being the current political scene for us.

This post does not claim to speak for ALL Jews, nor does it endorse Israel (before y'all even get started), I really just want to platform what I'm seeing so many of us say and I hope you consider helping us share this perspective.

-

Non Jewish People: let's rewrite the definition of Zionism to be completely interchangable with someone who loves killing, hates Palestinians, and is on a crusade to reclaim the holy land because god said so because I just now learned the word and instead of asking Jews what it means I just did word association with it and the current situation in Palestine and what weird evangelical Christians on TV said about it.

Jews: that's not...thats not what that means...

Another Non-Jewish Person: You're lying because I've only ever seen Zionism used by nonjews to refer to people who love killing, hate Palestinians, and are on a holy crusade and I trust their definition more than yours. Oh and also that one right wing extremist who identifies as Zionist, I'll use them to represent the entire Jewish people by their most extreme and vocal right and not listen to the rest of the Jews telling me he's nuts and doesn't speak for them.

Jews: but.. it's OUR word, we literally already had a definition and it wasn't that one. Extremist exist in every country and culture. Also 80% of Jews identify as zionist by a definition that supports Palestine but also Jews are only like . 2% of the population so it's hard for us to platform our voices over other people speaking for u-

The entire left of America now I guess???: well too bad, we changed it and now we hate you for using it and you can't tell us anything otherwise because we don't listen to zionist. We only listen to minorities or BIPOC when we feel like it or determine them worthy of sympathy which youre not because again you're a Zionist and weve changed that term to mean something bad now and if you care enough you'll bow to our colonization of it and assimilate or kill yourself. Also you're not a minority you're white because your family came from Poland.

Jews: Jews actually aren't white and have never been considered white that's actually a big reason why the Holocaust happened but I literally am pro-palestine and have been protesting since before you knew about this issue. Actually many Isreali's dont-

Non-Jews: Genocide lover!

That one Jewish person who barely, if ever, engages with the culture or history and is hoping that they can be a good enough Jew to be accepted: They're right actually, abandoning your culture is good when your culture is evil. Thankfully others have informed me how evil Jews are ♥️

Non-Jews: See! They said it's okay! I hope you get brutally murdered and your whole family ****ed you Zionist Nazi pigs!

[wwinterwitch]

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away. 

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do? 

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive. 

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

[milswrites]

The Bat Boys X Bookworm!Reader

Summary: What the Bat Boys (and Eris & Lucien) are like with their bookworm partners

Warnings: Lil smutty and nsfw (not too much just want to cover myself) so 18+ MDNI

Notes: Just a bit of fun really, it's different to what I usually write but I hope you guys like it!

Rhysand

Rhysand loves you

And if loving you means that he has to feed your obsession with buying books?

Then he would happily clear out all the bookshops in Velaris if it meant getting to see you smile.

Rhysand is rich-rich.

Which means if there's something you want? He'll buy it for you without question.

You once mentioned about how much you'd love your own library one day.

So of course by the end of the week you had your own little haven inside Rhysand's house with more books than you could ever dream of reading and your own little ladder to reach them all.

But he didn't stop there.

For your mating gift he purchased you your very own library in Velaris

In which Rhys may or may not have enacted his fantasies of sleeping with a Librarian.

Whilst Rhysand does like to read, his taste in books is very different to your own.

But even though he doesn't read the books you do, he's more than happy to sit and listen to you talk about your favourite ones for hours if that meant being able to see your eyes light up as you talked about something you loved.

But no books nor libraries could top the best gift he had ever given you.

A hand-written book containing the story of your relationionship.

Complete with crude little comments and drawings the High Lord had scribbled down in the margins.

Rhysand loved history.

So what better way to preserve his undying love for you than in-between the pages of a book which would last forever.

Cassian

Cassian had never been very interested in books.

He'd much rather experience the thrill of real fighting and action in person than spend his time reading about it on some dusty old pages.

In fact the only time Cassian had been in a library he had the terrifying encounter with Bryaxis.

Safe to say that the trauma he experienced was the perfect excuse for never stepping in one again.

Until he met you.

Cassian has always been the type of guy who's all in or nothing.

He discovers the person he has a crush on likes reading?

You know he's going to be walking around with books he's never even opened pretending like he is a well-read Illyrian.

Citing quotes he doesn't even understand just to try and impress you.

And once you're together?

You show Cassian exactly what he's missed out on when it comes to reading.

Especially when it comes to getting tips for your bedroom activities.

For months after you revealed to him the wonders that are smut books, Cassian would spend his free time delving through the pages looking for new ideas on how to spice up your sex life.

Claiming his increased interest in reading was due to 'research purposes'

Cassian is 100% down to roleplay characters from your novels

He loves being the big strong hero to your damsel.

Whenever Cassian catches you reading, happily curled into the comfort of your sofa, he'll approach with a smirk on his lips

"Any new tricks you'd like to try out? I think page 69 is worth a shot."

Azriel

Azriel's a busy guy.

He's always away on missions for Rhysand or working in the dungeons of the Court of Nightmare's

So he can be forgiven if when he comes home, reading is the last thing on his mind.

But what he does enjoy though, is when you read to him.

He can lay with his head in your lap for hours.

Humming along to whatever tale you tell whether it's fantasy, romance or a good thriller

Sometimes he'll even offer his input. Laugh when something especially funny happens or shed a tear whenever a character he likes died.

Azriel loves the sound of your voice

Enjoying the way you put on voices whenever a character is speaking.

He's grown to like the sense of domesticity that he feels whenever you read to him. Allowing himself to imagine you doing this to two little Illyrian babies of your own.

Reading to your wide eyed children as they are gripped by the tales you're telling

Azriel is also a gentleman.

Need a hand with carrying the books you're choosing whilst you shop?

He's there

Hands willingly taking everything you stack on top of him, trailing after you with your selections like a lost puppy.

And when you get to the till?

Azriel had already spoken to the shopkeeper upon entry and added anything you chose to his account. Claiming the books were just as much his as they were yours if you were going to read them to him.

Azriel is definitely the type of male who likes you to read your smut to him as he pleasures you, acting out the words on the page until you're unable to speak anymore, leaving the rest of the chapter to your own imagination.

Eris

Eris is a reader.

He loves nothing more than to settle down after a long day with a good book in hand and a steaming tea.

You can't tell me he doesn't find it the hottest thing ever when he discovers you like to read too

The two of you have your own little book club

You'll each read the same book and then have a little meeting when it's over to discuss what you thought of it.

He can also get really emotional and intense about them.

God knows the amount of times you've had to calm him down when a character has made a choice he didn't like.

I think Eris definitely likes to write too

Not seriously, but it's a good way for him to get his thoughts out and to escape from the day to day of his reality.

And he loves to have you read his work

To see the way your face lights with joy as your eyes flick through his beautiful prose.

A small smile upon his lips at the knowledge that the muse for his writings was you.

Lucien

Lucien also likes to read.

But the way you read?

It terrifies him.

The way you obsess over the characters from your stories.

Your passionate opinions on their decisions and the plots.

God forbid Lucien says something about them that you don't agree with.

Lucien finds you positively feral when it comes to the stories you like.

But that doesn't stop him from wanting to show interest in them too.

Lucien likes to read all your favorite books and leave annotations of his thoughts in the margins.

This was exactly how the two of you had gotten together, the male having gifted you with a copy of a book he had noticed you reading.

The pages filled with scratchy comments and opinions on everything that happened.

Lucien pours his soul into his annotations and you love that.

Lucien is also a poetry man.

He loves to recite verses to you which stick out to him

Sometimes they were romantic, making your heart stop in your chest and breath catch in your throat.

But Lucien was also a fan of satirical poetry

The most ridiculous, corny things you have ever heard.

He'll come find you as you're going about your day and recite his latest read to you - your eyes rolling to the back as you did so, yet you fail to hide the smile which crosses your face every time he does so.

He has also tried to write you poetry before, express the depth of his feelings towards you. Safe to say his lame attempt of a limerick earnt him a scoff and had you hiding all his poetry books from him for the next month.

[apoemaday]

Eurydice

by Carol Ann Duffy

Girls, I was dead and down in the Underworld, a shade, a shadow of my former self, nowhen. It was a place where language stopped, a black full stop, a black hole Where the words had to come to an end. And end they did there, last words, famous or not. It suited me down to the ground.

So imagine me there, unavailable, out of this world, then picture my face in that place of Eternal Repose, in the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems, hovers about while she reads them, calls her His Muse, and once sulked for a night and a day because she remarked on his weakness for abstract nouns. Just picture my face when I heard -- Ye Gods -- a familiar knock-knock at Death’s door.

Him. Big O. Larger than life. With his lyre and a poem to pitch, with me as the prize.

Things were different back then. For the men, verse-wise, Big O was the boy. Legendary. The blurb on the back of his books claimed that animals, aardvark to zebra, flocked to his side when he sang, fish leapt in their shoals at the sound of his voice, even the mute, sullen stones at his feet wept wee, silver tears.

Bollocks. (I’d done all the typing myself, I should know.) And given my time all over again, rest assured that I’d rather speak for myself than be Dearest, Beloved, Dark Lady, White Goddess etc., etc.

In fact girls, I’d rather be dead.

But the Gods are like publishers, usually male, and what you doubtless know of my tale is the deal.

Orpheus strutted his stuff.

The bloodless ghosts were in tears. Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years. Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers. The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears.

Like it or not, I must follow him back to our life -- Eurydice, Orpheus’ wife -- to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes, octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets, elegies, limericks, villanelles, histories, myths…

He’d been told that he mustn’t look back or turn round, but walk steadily upwards, myself right behind him, out of the Underworld into the upper air that for me was the past. He’d been warned that one look would lose me for ever and ever.

So we walked, we walked. Nobody talked.

Girls, forget what you’ve read. It happened like this -- I did everything in my power to make him look back. What did I have to do, I said, to make him see we were through? I was dead. Deceased. I was Resting in Peace. Passé. Late. Past my sell-by date… I stretched out my hand to touch him once on the back of the neck. Please let me stay. But already the light had saddened from purple to grey.

It was an uphill schlep from death to life and with every step I willed him to turn. I was thinking of filching the poem out of his cloak, when inspiration finally struck. I stopped, thrilled. He was a yard in front. My voice shook when I spoke -- Orpheus, your poem’s a masterpiece. I’d love to hear it again…

He was smiling modestly, when he turned, when he turned and he looked at me.

What else? I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I waved once and was gone.

The dead are so talented. The living walk by the edge of a vast lake near, the wise, drowned silence of the dead.

[scoonsalicious]

10.3 Lily

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Lies, Machinations.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Bucky found the envelope you were sent. And he did not take it well. He went running to Lily.

A/N: I have a job interview this afternoon! Wish me luck (although, by the time this posts, it will be over with already, but, you know, good vibes!)!!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Lily couldn’t believe her luck. When she had arranged to have that envelope sent to The WarZone, she expected Major to freak out, to be frightened and disturbed, maybe even disgusted, by everything Bucky had done in his past and decide to stop seeing him. 

But for Bucky to think that Major was running background on him without his knowledge, and for him to run out on her? Lily couldn’t have planned it better. And he’d come to Lily for comfort. Everything was going perfectly. She was even willing to eat this disgusting pineapple on her pizza, she was in such a good mood.

Currently, Bucky was sitting on the floor, back leaning against her couch while she massaged his scalp, the television playing some mind numbing comedy in the background.

“I don’t get it, Lil,” he said with a groan. “If she had questions, she could have just asked me. I would have told her anything she wanted to know.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, wishing he would move on to a different topic, any topic, other than that harlot. “I did tell you she was a bitch, Jamie.”

Bucky leaned his head back. “But why would she do it?” he asked her with a sigh. “She made such a big deal about saying I didn’t have to tell her anything until I was ready. So, why would she go digging?”

Lily scratched at his scalp, trying not to let her annoyance come through her ministrations. “She obviously lied to you, Jamie. Apparently, your past mattered more to her than she claimed. I hate to say this,” she said, struck with a jolt of inspiration, “but maybe she’s attracted to that kind of thing. Some people are sick, Jamie and, well, it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

She eyed him, hoping the memory would hit the way she had intended it to. She had been particularly proud of orchestrating that breakup. Bucky had been devastated, of course– but when he had confided to Lily that he had been planning on asking Jessica, his girlfriend at the time, to move into his room at the Compound with him, she had to take action. What else was Lily supposed to do, honestly?

So, she'd fabricated search histories on Bucky's laptop for all kinds messed up Winter Soldier porn while Bucky was away on a mission; the nastier, the better; and then conveniently "discovered" the history after asking Bucky to borrow his computer. Since Jessica had, "technically," been the only other person, aside from Bucky, with access to the device, convincing him that she had been the one to search for it all hadn't been difficult. Despite Jessica's pleas that she'd done no such thing, it was hard refuting the evidence Lily had manufactured, especially since Bucky was so technologically illiterate and never thought to check for dates and times of the searches, and Jessica had been out of their lives by dinnertime. Lily would be eternally grateful to Rule 34.

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” Bucky asked her remorsefully. “Girls are either going to be terrified of the Winter Soldier, or weirdly turned on by him? There’s no in between where they just see 'Bucky'?”

Lily rolled her eyes. Was he always this fucking dramatic? “Jamie, you’ve barely been dating her. Be thankful you found out about her now, before you got in too deep.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It could have been a lot worse. At least now, you know the truth about her, and you can move on.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky lamented. “I’m a fucking monster. How can I expect any good woman to fall in love with me, after all the shit I’ve done?” 

“Maybe,” she began, playing with the chain of his dog tags and hoping to get him off his pity train, “the problem is that you’re too caught up with girls who don’t really know you. Maybe you’d be better off with someone you already have a solid foundation with, you know?” Lily gently tugged his tags out from underneath his collar and began running her fingers across the metal, as she’d done hundreds of times before. It always made her feel connected to him, grounded.

Except, this time, they felt… wrong, somehow. The metal engraving where his name should be felt foreign, not the embossing she was so intimately familiar with. She felt her stomach plummet. 

“What’s with your tags?” she asked, not even giving him an opportunity to respond to her previous statement. “They don’t feel right.”

Bucky pulled away from her, reaching up to gently take the tags from between her fingers into his own. 

“These are Major’s,” he said softly as he ran his thumb across the engraving, looking at the tags almost longingly. 

“Why–” Lily fought for composure, “why do you have her tags?” she asked him. “Where are yours?”

“We traded,” Bucky confessed to her. “Fuck, now I’m going to have to figure out how to get mine back.”

“You gave her your tags.” Lily did her best to cover her disgust and disbelief by making it a statement, not a question. In all their years of friendship, she’d never, not once, known him to ever take those tags off, let alone allow someone else to wear them– and lord knows she’d tried to get him to let her. Bucky nodded.

“You just let some random slut wear your tags, Jamie?” There was no hiding the distress in her voice now as she stood up from the couch, the action so abrupt that it knocked Bucky forward on the floor. 

“You barely know her! That’s so… so… ugh, that’s so gross!” 

“Why are you so upset about it?” he asked her, standing up and looking at her with a curious expression. “They’re my tags, but you’re freaking out about them worse than I am.” 

Shit. Cover, cover, cover.

“Well,” Lily hemmed, “because, obviously, she’s awful. I mean, she did all that shady recon on you. I gotta say, I think you should probably be thankful for whoever sent her that envelope. They did you a favor in showing you her true self, right?”

Bucky froze, his expression staring off into the middle distance as if he’d just realized something of vital importance. “Shit,” he whispered.

“What?”

He made a beeline for the kitchen, picking up his discarded leather jacket and shrugging it back on. “I fucked up, Lil. I fucked up, big time.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as he made his way back toward the front door, and she could hear the desperation in her own voice. “Jamie, we’re having such a good night.”

Bucky paused to turn to her, his hand on the doorknob. “She was upset when she got that envelope, Lil. I was so taken by surprise when I saw the contents of it, I completely forgot about her reaction when she first recieved it. She didn’t even know where it had come from. There’s no way she was doing background research on me.”

Lily could feel all her opportunities slipping between her fingers like fallen sand. “Maybe she was lying to you. Covering her tracks so you wouldn't suspect,” she said, knowing the excuse was flimsy, but not being able to come up with anything else in the moment.

"But she didn't know I would even still be there," Bucky protested as he opened the door. "I got held up having a conversation with Nat. Major was surprised to see me still in the building. There's no way she made that bit up for my benefit."

“I don’t see how that changes her motives in the least. Maybe she saw you still there and came up with the lie on the spot.”

“Because that’s not who she is!” Bucky practically shouted, taking Lily aback with his tone. “You said she did me the favor of showing me her true self, and that’s just the thing– I don’t believe that’s who Major truly is. If, and that’s a big ‘if,’ she did look up information about my past, she probably had a damned good reason, and I–fuck– I never even gave her the chance to explain! I just stormed out of there like a fucking toddler! I have to go make this right while I still have a chance. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

And with that, he was out the door, running, once again, back to her, and leaving Lily all alone, and heartbroken. How could things have gone from so spectacularly wonderful to so awful, in such a short span of time?

More importantly, if, for some reason, Major did decide to forgive Bucky, what was Lily’s next step going to be to break them up for good?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[fastcardotmp3]

Steve is the first person Robin ever comes out to.

And it's good, it goes better than she ever could have hoped, it goes miraculously well considering just how reckless she had been about it in hindsight, how nearly accidental and vaguely self-destructive a choice it had been to wield Tammy Thompson's name like that in front of a boy she'd learned to trust within the past six hours.

The thing is, it's good, but she realizes later on that she never actually says the word. The big one, the identifying one, the one that gets thrown around as a slur as often as queer or dyke do towards any girl who dares not present in a specifically feminine way.

It's a bad word, a scary word, a word that drips off tongues like acid and drips drips drips a corrosive hole in Robin's chest every single time because if it's being said in her vicinity that means-- just at any moment-- anyone could figure out--

Robin doesn't care for the act of coming out either in theory or in practice. She believes that anyone she trusts enough to know gets to learn from context clues and anyone she doesn't trust will just never get to know her fully and that's good enough for her.

She doesn't sit her parents down and say, "Mom. Dad. I'm a--"

She doesn't sit her little apocalypse posse down and say, "Just thought you guys should know I'm a--"

She didn't tell Steve.

She doesn't say the word.

Because as much as she's able to accept who she is, it's so hard to claim a word that has been used like a weapon her whole life. Because as much as even her parents and her friends love her for who she is, there is something about saying it like that that makes her wonder if it could sully the support.

As if they'd realize oh, you meant like that...? and change their minds.

It's not until IUPUI, a little house in Indy with Steve, and a little record shop next door to the deli where Eddie got a job slicing meat that she starts seeing that word, feeling it anew.

There are zines at this shop, the ones behind the counter that she's offered after a few visits and a few conversations that she later recognizes as coded and questioning in nature.

There are stories and art and poetry and that word is all over them.

And the thing is? The thing that has Steve finding her crying in their living room one afternoon as she reads through the stack like it holds the answers to the universe?

Is that it is written and spoken and displayed like the most beautiful word in the world.

It's a compliment and a blessing and a brag. It's a little bit of magic and a great deal of history.

It's her, in the end. It's her and it belongs in her mouth, deserves to be spoken, because too many people are out there misusing it like a disgusting thing when it is divine, fucking love incarnate.

Robin tucks into Steve's embrace, his instinct to hold her even as he tries to understand what has her sobbing in the middle of the day, whether or not he needs to fight anyone about it.

He holds her and she holds him back and it only feels right that it happen like this when she takes his face in her hands, shaky but oh, so certain.

Steve was the first person she ever came out to.

If she's going to let the scary word become her favorite the way it is for the people writing it out so proudly, this is probably the place to start.

"Steve Harrington," she beams at the furrow in his brow, those big concerned eyes that she knows will be confused about this, but she knows will only hold her tighter once she explains. "Steve. Stevie. Guess what?"

"What's up?" he laughs, gathering the joy in her tears like she knew he would, and Robin feels something click in the moment before she says it to him.

Out loud and real.

Very nearly holy.

"I'm a fucking lesbian."

[ckret2]

Ages ago I made a post about what Ford thinks about Bill (in a billford context), and I've had an infodump on what Bill thinks about Ford floating on discord for months, and an ask finally prompted me to post it, so here ya go:

If asked why he likes Ford, Bill himself claims that Ford overthinks everything, but in such fun, interesting ways, and Bill likes the way Ford thinks about things.

But really, Bill overthinks everything too; it's just he overthinks social things. He's always calculating how to persuade, control, manipulate people. He never has a conversation that isn't a chess game, it's exhausting and he won't even admit it's exhausting. When's the last time his top priorities weren't either "how do I convince some sucker to make a portal" or "ugggh I'm so SICK of the PORTAL I'm gonna THROW A PARTY and NOT THINK AT ALL"

Whereas Ford is guy who'd hear someone say something incorrect and bluntly go "no you're wrong" and accidentally offend the hell out of them because he's SO excited to share this fantastic information they don't know. The social world DOES NOT EXIST for him until he's reminded of it.

And so he's free to turn all his brainpower instead to. Like. The environmental impact of barf fairies on fern fertilizer or whatever.

Bill knows Everything™ but he's gotten tired of doing anything with that knowledge. They're all discrete points of information to him. He doesn't have time to muse over things, he's got an inventor to manipulate at 11pm and then a party to get to at midnight. He's never once in his life thought about the impact of barf fairies on the local flora. But he does happen to know the plants in that part of the woods are more acid-resistant and wow is that why???? He's never even thought to think about that before. Thousand year mystery that Bill didn't even notice has been solved.

(On the other hand "Ford doesn't think to think about the intricacies of social interaction" is also part of what makes him so easy to manipulate, he's so much more inclined to just accept at face value a friendly offer of assistance on a big academic project. Sure Bill's helping for the sake of scientific advancement in and of itself, why wouldn't he?)

Bill wants to just, fling random facts at Ford and see if he can think up connections between them. Go nerd boy go nerd boy go

"... So there you have it Ford, that's the problem you'll have to overcome with adapting alien machinery to human fuel sources, now I wanna hear YOUR thoughts on how to overcome that problem." "Well—" talks in an uninterrupted stream that by thirty minutes in has drifted over to the history of kerosene production, which he read an interesting book about between semesters in college— "... I've gotten off topic, haven't I?" "No no, I think you're on to something. This is how brainstorming works, free association of concepts. Keep going."

Ford in the morning: "... oh no I didn't let my muse get a word in edgewise for the rest of the dream, i didn't bore him did I?" Bill: "damn, I never noticed the patent process for hurricane lamps was so contentious. There's little dramas everywhere"

When things are going well, their relationship is,

Ford: "I just wanna hear Bill teach me things about the multiverse forever."

Bill: "I just wanna hear Ford think deeply on any topic that crosses his mind forever."

Both of them when they're in peak harmony: excitedly jabbering at each other at 200 words per minute about the stupidest topic you've ever heard, but you'd need a phd in at least two fields to comprehend it

That's love!!!

Ford, having historically been socially shamed: "... am I being weird?"

Bill: "💕❤️💓yeah❣️💖❤️‍🔥"

Sometimes I think about Bill watching Ford in his sleep and being in awe at this human-shaped genius: you with your beautiful electric mind, packed into this soft flawed uneven body. one would never know it from the outside—but you're in there. This genius with a mind like a galaxy. ... and he's like, growing hair and stuff. wild.

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Debunking the Claim that Bucky Barnes' Dog Tags "Prove He Cannot Be Jewish"

In 2021 and 2022, when discussing the fact that MCU!Bucky (henceforth referred to simply as Bucky) is based off of Arnie Roth, a gay Jewish man and Steve's childhood best friend, I received pushback from fans telling me that Bucky can't possibly be Jewish due to his dog tags; citing a behind the scenes picture posted by Sebastian Stan to his instagram story.

Transcription of the dog tags:

James B. Barnes (Legal Name) 32557038 (Serial Number*) T41 42 (Tetanus Immunization) O (Blood Type) R. Barnes (Next of Kin) 3092 Stockton RD (Address) Shelbyville IN (Location) P (Religion Marker)

*A serial number starting with a 3 indicated that the servicemember was drafted into the Army, it's important that we do not forget that Bucky didn't chose to fight.

During World War II the dog tags of American service members would have had one of the following regulation religion markers:

P for Protestant (the marker we see on Bucky's dog tags)

C for Catholic

H for Hebrew, this being the marker for 'Jewish'

NO (or left blank) for No Religion

For Jewish servicemembers fighting in Europe, being discovered to be a Jew by your captors–especially if you were captured by the Nazis–carried considerable risk and could mean the difference between life or horrific torture, experimentation and possibly even death.

Some Jewish service members, justifiably incredibly fearful of what could happen if they were found out, would either omit a religion marker altogether or, after getting their tags, would attempt to obscure the 'H' marker in some way so it could not be read by their captors.

While this saved some lives, it was not a perfect and fool-proof system, and we have no way of knowing how many times it failed.

In 1943, the year Bucky was drafted, the Army introduced a more official (and more widely adoptable, and thus widely adopted) option to protect Jews in its ranks:

Through the European Theatre of Operations United States Army, Jewish servicemembers could elect to have the 'H' marker for Hebrew on their dog tags replaced with a 'P' for Protestant.

This would offer Jewish servicemembers a more convincing layer of protection if they were ever captured by the enemy, because, unlike an obscured religion marker (or that lack of one) which could itself draw suspicion, a set of dog tags printed with a 'P' would be entirely indistinguishable from the dog tags worn by a gentile and would be less likely to draw suspicion.

Due to this option being made available to Jewish people serving in the United States Armed Forces, the 'P' marker on Bucky's dog tags not only does not definitively prove that he's really a gentile, in actuality its presence provides even further historical support in favour of him being a Jewish man.

Sources and Additional Reading:

Jewish GIs and Their Dog-Tags by Rabbi Akiva Males - Hakirah

A Star of David for Pvt. Benjamin Garadetsky - Jewish Telegraphic Agency (jta.org)

U.S. Army WW2 Dog Tags | WW2 US Medical Research Centre (med-dept.com)

Do You Know the History of the "Dog Tag" (jcveteranscouncil)

Beyond The Battle: Religion and American Troops In World War II (uky.edu)

World War II and American Jewish Identity

European Theater of Operations, United States Army - Wikipedia

Pride Month 2022, 40 Years of Arnie Roth and Michael Bech - Marvel Comics: The Queer History Behind MCU Bucky’s Backstory

J.M. DeMatteis, the creator of Arnie, confirming the character's use for MCU!Bucky

Full screenshot of Sebastian Stan's post of the dog tag

How to Decode a WWII US Army Serial Number | Amy Johnson Crow

[cinnbar-bun]

Heartless Giant- Chapter 1

(Excuse the banner)

Pairing: Crocodile x GN!Royal!Reader

Rating: SFW

First part of a collaboration with @fanaticsnail 's Storyteller collection! I chose to do the "Heartless Giant" with Crocodile. Thank you for having me as a part of this, dear <3!

Summary: Your older brothers claim that the man who tried to overthrow your kingdom is still in the dungeons below. Such a monster shouldn't possibly exist, right? After a bet and a promise, you and your brothers travel down the dungeons to find the proclaimed "giant". Those rumors should be nothing more than gossip... right?

Notes: GN!Reader, Prisoner!Crocodile (for my Impel Down Croc lovers), implied age gap, Reader is an adult but age is not specified, violence, bad siblings, protective Crocodile, "falling for my father's enemy" teehee

You can read this on my AO3 here!

Word Count: ~2.7k

It happened years ago, they said. A man- more akin to a beast, if anything- tried to take over and kill the king. Your father, ever the gallant ruler, fought the giant beast and sentenced him to eternal imprisonment in the lowest cell of the castle dungeons. 

A part of you was thankful you were not there to witness such a sight. To see your beloved father have to fight what was perhaps the scariest enemy in a long time would’ve frightened you. Yet, another part of you was admittedly… curious. Your elder brothers always warned you against going to the dungeon. They always joked that the giant would eat you and your heart. 

“He towers over everyone… his shadow looms over everything,” the eldest would say. Your second brother chuckled along with him before hunching his back and cupping his left hand. 

“He’s got a big hook, too. If his ugly face sees ya, he sinks it into ya!” He swung his arm around like it was a hook and your third brother pretended to be scared. He grinned after his performance and slunk to you. 

“And, father says, with only his right hand, the giant takes away your life. He just,” your brother covered your face with his right hand and shook you while growling loudly. “Drains you until you’re a husk!” 

You shove your brother off of you and roll your eyes. 

“There’s no way anyone like that exists,” you huff and adjust your appearance. Your three older brothers laugh wildly, as if you had told the funniest joke in history. 

“Oh come on, you didn’t see him!” The third one says. “You were on a different island!” 

“I doubt you saw him, either,” you cross your arms. “You guys would be terrified if a man like that really existed.” 

“Are ya callin’ us liars?” The second one frowns and raises a brow. “Don’t make us throw you into the dungeon with ‘im!” 

“Maybe I am! Why would you go and try to make a joke out of a man that father had to battle like that?” 

“Ugh, there you go, again,” the first rolls his eyes. “Can’t even take a joke!” 

“I think all those books ruined yer brain, (Y/n),” the second chortles as he points at the book in your hand. 

“I think all the seawater melted yours,” you shoot back and hold your book tighter. 

“Well, I just hope you can fight if that beast breaks out one day!” The third one laughs. He takes his sword out of his holster and swings it with calculated precision. He sheaths his sword and you sigh. 

“We can hope he never does,” you reply. “Maybe you three will be courageous enough to actually look him in the eye.” 

“Those are fighting words! Ya think we can’t look him in the eye?” The second yells. 

“I don’t think so,” you taunt. “He probably doesn’t even look anything like what you just said.” 

“Fine. We’ll take ya down to see him and prove to you how dangerous he is. And when you cry, we won’t save you.” 

Seeing your brothers so adamant to prove themselves made your arrogance rise as well. Not to mention, that little voice in your head that was always, always wanting to see the man your father had cursed under his breath over and over since that day. In a sick, twisted way, you wanted to see the man that nearly brought your kingdom to ruin when you were away. 

“Fine. We can all go together and we’ll see just how tough you are from the ‘giant’.” 

Your brothers smirked and nodded. The eldest stepped forward and whispered. “At midnight. Be quiet. The guards and father are having a meeting tonight. Use the back staircase and we’ll all meet by the doors.” 

All four of you shook upon it and continued with your day. Your heart raced, your thoughts drifting to that beast locked away in the dungeons. 

A man who towered over everyone. A man with a hook. A scarred face. The power to take life away with only his right hand. 

You tried to imagine how this monster would look, but all images your mind conjured were hideous and unsightly. You shivered, yet the way your feet bounced with nearly every step gave away the excitement you secretly held inside. 

After pretending to fall asleep on your bed, you waited till the moon was at its highest and opened the door. You peered out the hallways, checking if the coast was clear before scurrying along to the rendezvous point with your brothers. Just as they had promised, the three of them were waiting for you with eager grins and smiles. 

“So you really did come?” The first chuckled. “Thought you would’ve hid away.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” you clicked your tongue. “I’m ready to see how you three will react to him, though.” 

“Please, that man’s got nothing on us,” the second dismissed. “Four against one, he’s done for.” 

“More like three against one,” the third snorted, nudging his head to you. 

“I don’t need to fight. None of us should need to, actually. We’re just taking a look, and then we’re leaving.” 

They glanced around before your second brother picked the lock to the cellar with a pin he had taken from your mother. They urged you inside and checked that none of you would be discovered. 

The dungeons were dark, mildewy, and worst of all, freezing. You shivered as you realized your nightclothes were a bit too light for this cold place. 

“Come on, hurry up,” your brothers whispered as they practically ran down the steps to the lowest dungeon level. You made an effort to catch up with them before you noticed how low the temperature was down here. Every time you and your brothers let out a breath, you could see the small amounts of steam cloud around you four. 

They lived in such conditions…? 

Your brothers quickly made their way to the farthest cell in the dungeon and laughed loudly. 

“There he is!” 

“Ahaha! My god, he’s hideous!” 

“Come on, give us a glance!” 

You gasped at what your brothers were saying. “Don’t say things like that! You know better than that.” 

As foolish as you were to come down here, you were not foolish enough to insult the beast. 

The third rolled his eyes. “Oh, quiet down will you?” 

“What are you, our mother?” The first glared. He began to bang on the bars. “Wake up, will you?” 

You made your way to the cell and noticed the looming shadow in the corner. His back was towards you and your brothers, barely clothed in the rags he wore. There were two large chains wrapped around his arms, preventing him from using them to escape and use the ferocious powers your brothers discussed. He was sitting, hunched over, yet, even in this position, you could tell how large and massive he was. He hardly moved or flinched at the noise your brothers made, making them more upset. 

“Come on! Give us something! Look us in the eye!” They hit the bars again, but the man stayed as still as a statue. 

This was the man who nearly ended your kingdom… 

You didn’t need to see his face, but through his behavior alone, you knew that despite him being in the cell, you and your brothers were his prey. 

“Cut it out, now,” you warned, the anxiety creeping in your voice. 

“What? Scared? Scared the ugly beast will eat ya?” The second brother called out. The third brother continued to make loud noise. 

“Come on, we got our little sibling here! Don’t you want to impress them, giant?” He yelled before he grabbed you and pushed you against the bars. You yelped in pain and from the cold metal pressing into your face and body. 

“Stop it! Let me go!” You screamed. 

“What happened to the beast who tried to end us? Huh? I thought you gave my father a good fight! So look at us!” The first glowered at the giant before he smirked at the ground.

“What are you doing? Stop that!” 

“Would you just shut your mouth?” The first leaned down to pick up a large rock and tossed it in his hand. Your other brothers chuckled darkly while you shook your head. 

“No… this wasn’t what we said we’d do! It was just to look!” 

“He can’t do anything to us. Look at him. He’s wasted away. Just watch,” the first says as he pulls his arm back before launching the rock at the giant. It hits him square in the back of his head and echoes as it patters to the ground. 

All is silent as you and your brothers stare. Yet, still, the giant does not move. 

“What a waste! He’s a dumb ogre! Can’t even look at us properly,” the second sighs. 

“Why would you do that?!” You shout at your brother. “Why would you throw that?” 

“You challenged us to see if we were scared. I think that beast is scared of us! He doesn’t even move!” 

Your brothers roared in laughter while you heard the rattling of the chains. Your eyes widened in horror as you noticed the man’s arms were beginning to move slowly. 

“G-guys. Let go. We need to go,” you beg. “Let me go.” 

You try and remove yourself from your brother’s grasp while they all laugh harder. 

“What? Scared? You’re even stupider than him!” They tease you. The third shoves your face harder into the bars. 

“Oh go on, you’re both stupid cowards! Go on! Why don’t you give him a little kiss? He might like that!” 

You struggle against your brother as you hear the chains clink. Your brothers laughter echoes in the dungeon until the third screams loudly in pain. 

You hardly have time to notice what is going on as you’re flipped around and see the third is on the floor, gripping his bleeding hand in pain while your other brothers are wide-eyed and trembling. Your back is now against the bars and you feel a cold metal against your throat. 

You’re shaking, afraid for your life as you glance down to see a gold hook pressed against your skin. 

Your other two brothers quickly unsheathe their swords and point it to the assailant, but their fear is evident by the way they can’t even hold their weapons properly. 

“The g-giant…” the first whispers, quaking in his boots. You know it’s a bad idea. Every part of you is screaming to not do so. Your mind races with warnings and against your better judgment… 

You lean back and try to glance up. You freeze as you look up to the giant’s sharp features. You can’t see much from this angle, but you can make out how tall he is. Your brothers’ descriptions of him didn’t do him justice, and you recognize how much more imposing his figure is. 

He presses his hook harder, pulling you further to him. He was careful not to use the pointed end of it to hurt you, but in your current state, you couldn’t care. 

A low grumble catches your attention as you realize it is the giant attempting to speak. 

“Do not touch them ever again,” his low voice threatens. Your brothers are even more shaken by the giant’s voice as they squeak and stumble backwards. 

“W-wait, don’t-” you cry, not wanting to be alone. Your brothers put away their weapons as they force themselves back up and run away, screaming bloody murder. Your heart sinks as you watch your brothers run off without you as their voices get quieter in this dark dungeon. The giant removes his hook from you, dropping you unceremoniously to the ground as you struggle to breathe. 

“Go,” is all he says, his shackles shaking as walks back to his corner. You don’t know what to think. 

“You’re not…?” You begin, unsure of what to say at all. Do you thank him? Apologize? Cry? Leave? You’re too stunned to know what to do next. 

“No. Just go. You shouldn’t be down here, anyways.” 

“Wait,” you call to him. “Why did you save me?” 

“Would you prefer I kill you?” He sharply replies. 

“No. I just… I didn’t expect that from you…” you mumble. He sighs. 

“You were foolish for coming down here. And you were even more foolish for allowing them to use you like bait.” 

“I didn’t think they would,” you admit pathetically. 

“Of course you didn’t. Life’s pretty easy up there, isn’t it, your highness?” He bitterly laughs. 

“Don’t patronize me. I just wanted to know why you would do such a thing.” 

“Telling you wouldn’t make a difference. Just let me rest and rot away the rest of my life in peace, would you?” 

You stop and nod, the adrenaline wearing off as you’re back to feeling the bitter cold on your skin. “Are you not freezing down here? You’re hardly wearing anything that could keep you warm.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Prisoners aren’t afforded that luxury, your highness. We stay in the cold and in this silence to pay for our crimes.” 

The logic was understandable, but you felt a pang of guilt in your heart. 

“I haven’t thanked you for saving me and stopping my brothers, yet,” you start, fumbling through the ideas in your head. “Thank you. As a show of my appreciation, I’ll bring you something to keep you warm.” 

He stood still, as if considering your words. “You would do something like that for me?” 

“Yes. I will do so. I’ll bring it down for you as soon as I can,” you assure him, feeling resolute in your decision. Criminal he may be, but royalty you were. Even the worst subjects required kindness and repayment for their actions. 

He turned his body around, and you managed to see his face fully under the dim light of the lantern. His face was sharp, chiseled, and scarred. The scar ran across his face over his nose, and the stitches on it looked brutal. The dark circles and bags under his eyes were prominent, like the strands of hair that were falling and framing his face. It was clear he tried to slick it back, but given his situation, he couldn’t do much with it in this grimy cell. 

You gasped at his appearance, taken aback by how strangely beautiful you found him. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. 

“Don’t worry, I get that a lot,” he smoothly teased. “Do I look like the monster you thought I was?” 

“No,” you earnestly respond, surprising him, somewhat. 

“Oh? Why is that?” Unlike your brothers, who cowered away in fear, you looked directly into his dark eyes with a firm resolve. 

“You look just like a man…” you reply. His eyes flicker with light for a brief moment, before they return to the dull color they were a moment ago. 

“Monsters can look like men, your highness. You should know better than that.” 

“Yet you did not kill me when you had a chance. Would a monster spare me?” 

“I guess not,” Crocodile sighed. “Perhaps I’ve gotten soft while being locked away for so long.” 

“I can only hope. But I promise, I will bring you the gift soon.” 

“Hm, don’t take too long, your highness. It gets terribly cold down here,” he replied in a drab voice. He turned himself around and faced the stone walls. “I don’t have anything else to say to you tonight.” 

You were taken aback by his abrupt statement but chose not argue further. He had done you a massive favor, and you too would probably feel the same way if locked away here for so long. 

“Thank you again,” you said to him before you pulled yourself up and dusted the dirt off your nightclothes. You glanced back at him, but the man was back to staying silent and not moving. 

What a dreary life that must be…

[dann-art]

I know that vampire chronicles aren't meant to be historical accurate. Like you read this and you know that all this events can happen in literally any time and space. Like really. The times doesn't really matter there, there are no nuances.

Listen, I'm not a historian, by any means. It's just like a hobby, but I have millions of them so I don't even learn that much.

Also I usually don't give a shit about accuracy in media, like whatever, until it's science do what you want, whatever suits your story

But sometimes it's time to say enough is enough.

So, we need to talk about Armands origin in Kievan Rus'. Okay, that's cool, we don't really explore it, but well whatever, at least we're not messing this up, right? Right?

While I was reading I ignored it. I was reading TVA in polish translation I thought like okay, names and nuances probably got lost in translation. It's a really bad translation tho.

But out of curiosity today I opened the book in English, because this was sticking in my head.

And it appears it wasn't translators fault.

So well, it's like kinda huge mistake. Like no one really checked it? But this book constantly claims that like Kievan Rus' was then in Russia. And suprise, suprise: that's simply not true. Well the term is kinda not right and can mean anything, like back it existed as state it was huge, but (judging on the mention of Kiev itself) that it was like somewhere in that area.

So I'll spare whole history, it's not relevant. We're stop around 1480's, when Armand was born (based on my calculations). And in that time the region was called Kiev Voivodeship (hope I got it right in english), and it was part of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and stayed there until 1569, when it passed to the Crown of the Kingdom of Poland (when the Polish-lithuanian commonwealth was created, but both countries were in union since early XV century)

So in the book we have some lines like this

Armand, bestie, I don't know how to break it to you, you're not russian. You never were. You've never lived in Russia (or back then I would use rather the name Moscow, but again I'm not a historian). More of a Ukrainian if so, but also not the world I would use. Most accurate would be rusyn (I think, or ruthenian???? I'm not sure how it works in English, anyway not russian).

Then we have this, and well... Oh boy. Something went really wrong with geography here. First of all, you've never been to Russia (or better say Principality of Moscow, like it wasn't even called Russia, from what I know, but i might be wrong).

So okay, Moscow and Novgorod were in part of Moscow indeed but Cracow!?!?!?? (Known also as my absolutely favourite city in the world). Like Cracow like Never ever has been a part of Russia. Okay, I get confusion with Kiev if you really really don't care about basic research. But Cracow???

Here's the map. Unfortunately it like administrative of Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth in 1619, but well you'll see my point. That doesn't make any sense

Cracow always was polish. Like it's our second capital. And look how far from Russia it is. Even during the partitions it goes to Austria not Russia.

Last thing I want to point out is this one

Like, man, maybe you speak russian, I do not doubt, like during travel to Moscow you could learn I guess.

I'm not entirely sure, but I guess the language there is ruthenian not russian. Like ruthenian is old language which is base for slavic languages such as Belarusian or Ukrainian. And what is also important it was not the language used in the Principality of Moscow, so it's definitely not russian.

Okay, thanks for reading if anyone is still there. I won't bore you any longer. It just was sitting in my head and I had to throw it out because we'll, basic research I guess.

[percyluvr]

Hiii,i love your blog and your writing sm and that’s why i wanted to be brava and make a request!If you like the idea,can you please write a Percy imagine were reader is the daughter of Thetis(the water nymph/goddess and mother of Achilles)and she is the one that helps Percy with his water powers?Like they bond over that and fall in love with each other?Thank you very much!🩵🩵

percy jackson x daughter of thetis!reader summary: percy meets a nereid; the rest is history wc: 2524 note: thank you so much for reading my works, i'm vv glad u love my blog & i hope i could do this request justice. i wasn't exactly sure if her kid would be a demigod or a nymph, so i thought because i haven't really seen any fics w a nymph!reader, i would get a lil creative w it! i do know that achilles was considered a demigod, but i figured maybe her female children would be nereids(?)

Percy had been claimed as a son of Poseidon about a month ago at this point, and he was desperately trying to understand his powers. When he was claimed, he assumed that it would be easy to harness the power of the sea, since, well, his dad was the literal God of the Sea. Unfortunately, it was not coming as naturally as he had hoped and assumed it would, and so he now found himself swimming in the sea near Camp Half-Blood, searching for someone or something to help him get a leash on his powers.

He tried contacting his dad, to no avail; now aimlessly swimming. The only thing that had truly come natural to him was the ability to breathe under water, which was helpful now, since he didn't have to keep coming up to the surface for breath and could now just focus on finding help.

It'd been about 2 hours of just what others would consider mind-numbing swimming, but Percy enjoyed it anyhow.

He eventually found himself face to face with a young girl whom he would consider one of, if not the most beautiful person he'd ever come across. Though he was a son of Poseidon, Percy swears that he found it increasingly difficult to breathe. The longer he looked at you, the more and more aware he was that he was underwater, and all he could think was 'I'm a son of Poseidon and I'm going to drown, and because somehow it can get more embarrassing than that, I'm going to drown in front of a beautiful girl and she's probably going to laugh and I'm never even going to get to know her name or hear her voice, which is probably the most heavenly thing anyone would ever get a chance to hear and-'

His thoughts are broken when he hears you speak, and somehow your voice sounds even more heavenly than he had assumed it would be.

"Hello, Perseus," you say, smiling, and Percy thinks that his heart might just burst into a million little pieces that will eventually drift out into the water surrounding the two of you.

"Hey, hi, um," he struggles to assemble his thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"Take your time, Perseus. You will not run out of breath, as I believe you thought you would just a few seconds ago," you speak, fighting the urge to giggle at the silly boy that has found his way to your home.

"Um, first, you can just call me Percy, if you want. Second, I know I won't, I was just, uh, distracted for a second. And third, I'm here because, embarrassingly enough, apparently the fact that I'm the son of Poseidon doesn't matter to this water, which will not do anything I want it to unless I'm in a life or death situation, which does happen to occur quite often, so really I'd probably be fine, but I would sort of like to be able to have the comfort of knowing that I can actually use these cool powers that every tells me I have," he rambles. "Sorry, that was kind of a lot," he concludes.

"Do not worry, I followed along quite easily, actually. Anyhow, if you require assistance with your endeavors, I am here to aide you. When I'm not busy helping your father at the castle, that is," you offer.

"Really? I mean I was hoping you would say that, but I wasn't sure you would. But yeah, I'll take you up on that, thanks," he flashes you a smile.

"Wonderful. Feel free to stop by or call my name into the water, and I'll hear it and come to you if I'm able."

"Right, uh, not to be rude, but uh, what's your name?"

"Ah, right, I forget how you demi-gods don't bother to learn the names of the Nereids anymore."

When you tell him your name, you believe you see his eyes glisten in adoration, unless, of course, you're making that all up in your head because the boy in front of you is way cuter than you had ever imagined when you had just heard his name being thrown around by the gossiping Nereids around the palace.

"Well, then, Percy, you should be on your way. I have things to be doing now."

"Right, bye then. Thanks for, y'know, offering to teach me pretty much everything," he says bashfully.

"Of course." He begins to swim away and all you are left with the ability to do is wave as he slowly gets farther and farther away.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

It'd been not even a week since Percy had been, in his descriptions to his friends at camp, blessed by your presence, and though the two of you had barely become acquaintances, he found himself missing the sound of your voice and the odd, in his opinion, outdated way that you spoke.

This type of yearning for a person's presence is not the type of yearning he feels for his mother, Sally, and so, this feeling is quite new to Percy. Of course, as a teenage boy, he doesn't know how else to manage this intense feeling, so immediately he goes to the beach and calls your name into the water.

"Hello, Percy, I can't say I'm surprised that you're this eager to harness the power of the sea. I was also very invigorated when I first learned of what was possible once at one with the sea."

"Am I not already one with the sea? My dad is literally the God and King of the sea. And are you not also one with the sea from birth? Aren't Nereides water spirits or whatever?"

"Ah, Percy, you misunderstand. You are not born one with the sea, even as a Nereid. You must prove to the sea that you are not afraid of it, and that you will not take advantage of it. It may takes days, or weeks, but I suspect that you will do just fine."

"And how exactly am I supposed to prove that?"

"You will see," you said cryptically, and before Percy could object to this statement, you were gone, and he was staring out into the clear blue water of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Jeez, when someone offers to teach you, you would think they would actually teach you something and not just say some weird cryptic stuff and then disappear," he grumbles to no one in particular.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Of course, you were correct in your assumption that Percy would quickly prove to the sea that he could be trusted to harbor its power. He manages to form a ball of water the size of a fist before losing focus, leaving the water to splash back down and become one with the sea again.

However, he was not discouraged, and in his invigorated state, he calls out for you without even realizing it.

"Hello, Perseus. I see that I was correct," you said, a bit smugly, Percy must say.

"Yeah, yeah. Will you actually teach me now?"

"Indeed. I wanted to be sure that you were competent enough for my help, so I do apologize for how ominous my words were."

"You're all good. I do have a question though, and feel free to try to drown me if this is rude."

"Do proceed with your inquiry." At that, Percy nearly bursts out laughing at how much you sounded like an office e-mail from someone's annoyed boss, but managed to somehow keep composure.

"Uh, why do you talk like.. I don't know, so formal. Aren't you my age?"

"I do apologize. I do believe you are older than me, which may come as a surprise to you. But to answer your main question, I talk so 'formal' because that is simply how everyone at the palace speaks. I suppose we do not have much contact with anyone outside of the ocean, and so we have not picked up on all of the latest dialects and ways of speaking."

"Well, I guess that makes sense then, my bad."

"Do not worry."

"So, uh, do I get to learn more about 'harnessing the power of the ocean' or whatever now?"

"I suppose now would be as good a time as any."

"Cool, cool, where do we start?"

You lift your fist into the air, a large section of water rising into the air and forming into the shape of a large sea turtle, forming into different animals as you rotate your hand in the air.

"Are you able to do that? Even a basic animal shape would be fine, but if not, we must begin, well, at the beginning."

"Oh, man," he grumbled

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

It'd been a few months of you popping in a few days a week to assist Percy with his ambitions, and he was finally able to wield the power of the sea like he once hoped he would be able.

However, September was rapidly approaching and Percy would soon have to return to school, meaning he would not get to see you nearly as often, which certainly put a damper on what was already a terrible week leading up to the start of the wretched school year.

And so, he resolved that the two of you would talk every day until he had to leave. He didn't care that he had progressed past the point of needing your help anymore, he just wanted to be in your presence for however much longer possible.

It was nearly instinct at this point for Percy to call your name out into the sea, and he was not one to fight it.

"Good to see you, Percy. But as I'm sure you're fully aware, you do not need my tutoring anymore. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself, but I do believe that you've even surpassed me, and that doesn't come as a surprise," you praise.

"I don't know about that, but I am pretty cool now," he says jokingly.

You smile. "But uh, I didn't call you for practice, I just thought that, uh, that maybe we could just hang out, y'know? I mean you did help me a lot, so I figure why not give you some company outside of all those old people or whatever back at the palace," Percy admits.

"That doesn't sound horrible. You are quite interesting, I would like to get to know you more as well. And yes, I could use some time away from my fellow Nereids at the palace," you sheepishly say.

"That's what I thought. Hey, by the way, you never told me who your parents were. You know who my dad and mom are, but I don't know either of yours."

"Ah, my mother is a bit more obscure nowadays, as she's not one of the Goddesses that the Greeks traditionally worship as they do the Olympians. She is a water nymph, but also a Goddess, and unfortunately is no longer worshipped in the same proportion as she was in Ancient Greece," you sadly explain.

"Huh, that's pretty cool. I mean, not the part that she's not really worshipped anymore, but the part of her being a nymph and a Goddess. Um, anyways, do you ever talk to my dad?"

"Occasionally, your father will ask me to accompany him or to do various tasks. He is a kind man, I do like his presence, if that is what you were trying to get at."

"That's good. I've only talked to him a few times, but I figured he was a nice guy," Percy grins, "Do you ever get to talk to your mom?"

"Yes, my mother, Thetis, and I are quite close. She lives in the palace with me."

"Wow, I'll be honest, I'm kinda jealous. I mean, I think my dad is cool, and I know he's like a big shot Olympian and whatever, but I think it'd be nice if we could actually talk in person and bond or whatever," he admits.

"Yes, I understand. It must be hard, but for the majority of the year, you have your mother, yes? Or are you a year-round camper?"

"Yeah, you're right. I do have my mom for most of the year, so it's worth it. She's the best," he cheers up at the mention of his mother.

"I figured you would say that. She raised you well. You are much kinder than some of the campers here, but I suppose that is not their fault."

"Nah, it's not. It is what it is sometimes."

You nod, and the conversation flows smoothly on.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Today was the last day that Percy would be at camp, since his mother was picking him up later that day after lunch.

He decided that since he only had a few hours left at camp for the summer, he would spend them with the person he now considered one of his closest friends, even though he'd only really known you for a few months at this point.

When he called your name, you appeared almost instantly.

"Hey, Percy," you said, grinning.

"Switching up the greeting today?"

"I suppose since today was your last day here, I would start trying to speak like you and perhaps by the time you came back from school, I would speak more 'naturally,' as you put it."

"Huh, the way you talk doesn't actually bother me, y'know."

"That may be true, but I would like to learn to speak more modernly anyhow."

"If you want to, go for it. But uh, I thought maybe we could do that thing, it's called like, Iris messaging or something? With the drachmas? Then we could keep in touch while I'm at school, too," Percy says nervously.

"That does sound like a good idea. Now that we're friends, I think it would be optimal that we spoke frequently and updated each other on our lives. Good thinking."

He chuckled. "Good, good. I, uh, also wanted to say that... well, I think you're really pretty, and I thought maybe next summer, we could, uh, maybe go on a date or something. I don't know if you feel the same way, but if you do and you do want to, that would be pretty cool," he rambles, interrupted by the foreign feeling of your lips on his.

After a few moments, you detach your mouth from his. "Was that, uh, alright?" You quietly ask.

"Yeah, jeez, that was way better than alright. That was perfect," he says, a deep red adorning his cheeks.

"That is excellent to hear," you say, smiling wider than you'd ever in your life.

"Well, I need to go to lunch, and uh, then my mom is picking me up. I'll Iris message you as soon as I get home, okay? So make sure you're ready."

"See you tonight, Percy," you happily state, dissolving back into the water as quickly as you had appeared.

He stares into the beautiful clear water for a bit before he walks away, unaware that you had appeared again and were watching him walk away, a look of adoration decorating your features.

[the-cybersmith]

So, about this whole "AI" thing...

A response to an ask (for some reason, tumblr won't let me blaze normal responsicles)

Like the Titan, Prometheus, Man Has Stolen Fire From the Gods. We can now make minds in our own image, elevating crude matter to the level of self-awareness. So... What next?

The first thing I would like to make clear is that, in some respects, my opinion here is irrelevant. So is yours. So are the opinions of the people reading this.

No matter what we do, no matter what we believe, something remains inviolably clear and true:

BAD ACTORS WILL EXPLOIT GENUINELY USEFUL TECHNOLOGIES TO BENEFIT THEMSELVES

This is an axiom of human behaviour that cannot be escaped. Nuclear power is amongst the most regulated technologies that have ever existed... and right now, rogue states are attacking their neighbours, protected from intervention by the threat of nuclear annihilation.

Nuclear Weapons (their own, and Red China's) are what allows the North Korean government to continue oppressing its population.

Nuclear Weapons enable The Land Of The Bear to invade The Ukraine.

Despite this, nuclear power has otherwise been mostly regulated out of existence. It is cheap, safe, and abundant, yet various laws make it either artificially expensive or outright illegal to heat your home with it, light your rooms, power your transportation, trim your hedges.

Regulations and anti-technology hysteria can prevent ordinary people from benefitting from innovation, but they cannot prevent the worst people in the world from abusing it.

So, whatever worst-case scenario you've imagined? Accept the fact that it's going to happen no matter what you do.

Legions of nanobots reconfiguring us into paperclips, a la Eliezar Yudkowski's bizarrely specific fever dreams? If you think it is possible, accept that it is inevitable.

Intelligent machines with glowing red eyes malevolently hunting us through a post-apocalyptic wasteland, a la James Cameron/The Wachowskis? If you think it is possible, accept that it is inevitable.

Lying governments using deepfaked videos to create un-debunkable false-flags and cheaply manufacture consent for wars to further their adrenochrome-harvesting operations? Let's face it, they don't even need AI for that, most people will just take their claims at face value.

But what if we all agree to stop using it?

Technologies are sometimes lost, yes, but this happens gradually, over the course of decades if not centuries. Civilisations can decline and lose access to technologies, but that's not likely to happen for AI within our lifetimes.

If it works, if it is genuinely useful, it WILL be used.

We have seen this play out time and time again, throughout history.

So, we can either do what we did for nuclear power, and regulate it so heavily that it serves no useful purpose to the Just and the Kind, whilst availing the Corrupt and the Wicked...

Or we can accept Evil shall be done, and try with all our might to counter it with Good.

We can strive to Magnanimous heights of Faustian greatness, using AI to create untold works of beauty, so that Human Grandeur at least rivals Human Depravity.

In summary:

We have stolen Fire from the Gods. The more noble-minded amongst us might as well do something worthwhile with it.