#i cannot support slander against them

[vrmxlho]

NAUR I LOVE YOUR WRITING ☹️☹️☹️ DON'T QUIT ZAINA COME BACK HERE you're joining me on an ice cream date 🩷 (yes or yes?)

i'm not quitting anytime soon but i might take it slower on the fics, or maybe make them shorter cuz god knows we all have shorter attention-spans now 😭

[ahaura]

i need liberals to understand that this is what people are talking about when we say that the democratic party and the republican party are functionally the same when it comes to US imperialism. bernie is one of the most progressive politicians in the country, yet he falls in line with the bipartisan status quo of supporting israel's genocide.

notice how he never calls out israel once. who murdered upwards of 11,000 men, women, and children? who destroyed thousands of people's homes and displaced them? who has been bombing schools, bakeries, hospitals, ambulances, residences, and fleeing refugees? and the fact that he makes this a "democrats vs republicans" issue is equally damning. the front to defend israel is BIPARTISAN because it SERVES UNITED STATES IMPERIALIST INTERESTS. he says there should be humanitarian aid but that aid will only do so much IF ISRAEL JUST KEEPS BOMBING PEOPLE.

it's been over a month of genocide and he hasn't called for a ceasefire. rashida tlaib - the only palestinian in congress and one of the ONLY people with the moral clarity and backbone necessary to call for a ceasefire and acknowledge palestinians as human beings - was PUNISHED for speaking out against the genocide. every single person who calls for a ceasefire, who calls israel's genocide for what it is, is slandered and punished.

you CANNOT reduce these issues to a superficial conversation about "republicans vs. democrats". to do so ignores the fact that, even if democrats are socially progressive, they're still willing to murder and exploit people outside the united states for the sake of the empire's material, imperialist interests.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

W.D.Y.W.F.M [Lovebites]

Jungkook could've adopted anybody else, really. He's gotten to know a lot of hybrids left and right during his time at the carecenter and foster homes- low maintenance ones, friendly ones, ones that are easy to be around. So why would he want you?

Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Fox Hybrid!Reader, mentions of trauma, Reader isn't cute & cuddly in this at all, manhandling (not the spicy kind), sort of brat-tamer Jungkook but not in the kinky way if that makes sense? This is about four years AFTER the Prelude chapter!, slight angst, okay it's actually not slight, mentioned attempted violence against mc, mentioned panic attack, fluff, slightly suggestive towards the end but overall SFW

Length: 3.4k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Have you forgotten about this because I didn't

-> Masterlist

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He remembers the day he'd made it public. Not only the fact that he had you, was living with you, legally.. well, owned you-

But that he was also in a relationship with you.

Jungkook remembers the immense wave of both support and hate clashing against one another, both sides aggressively trying to win a fight that was never theirs to fight to begin with. No one ever really pushed against or with him- it had always been about you. Fans trying to shelter and protect you, others attempting to use your past against you, slandering you or even attempting to scare you away from him.

From online threats against your safety, birthday projects all over the world to people actually attempting real life harm against you on airports, and others making signs specifically about loving you to hold up during concerts.

It's a constant push and pull- but after four years now, fans had to pretty much accept the fact that you existed and had this connection to him, or stay in their delusions and theories as to why it cannot be true.

It's like it's gotten simply boring. Old news.

He's kept you at his side, safe and sound, through all these years. Doesn't hide you when he's live, or outside, or taking the plane, or filming. You're a part of his life, and he doesn't ever attempt to keep you hidden. And neither does he ever want to back down and give anyone reason to think that he's not taking you seriously- neither as someone to love, nor as someone to keep safe.

He will do both, fully. Love you, and protect you.

Jungkook is currently live, talking to fans while you're on the couch next to him, tired but unable to sleep yet because it's something you've developed ever since staying with him. It's kind of his own fault- bad timing of him leaving the apartment every time you'd sleep making you wary of leaving him out of sight even to this day. He feels bad for it- but you're both working on that these days.

He doesn't want you to believe that he'd ever leave you alone.

"Is that foxy? Yes, she's right here!" He grins, leaning back a little to teasingly pull one of your ears into frame, showing that you're halfway laying on his lap. It makes some people upset in the chat, but most find it cute. "She doesn't sleep well alone, when I don't sleep she doesn't either." He explains to the fans watching. "Which is.. my fault, I kind of messed that up, but we're working on it." He nods, leaning back forwards to read the chat. "Calvin Klein? Huh?" He wonders why he reads the name of the brand in the chat considering he himself is wearing a simple white nike shirt- before he turns around, spotting you climbing over the back of the couch, seam of your pale purple underwear displaying the brand name. "Ah, yes! We got sent some stuff from their hybrid collection. Looks really pretty!" He smirks teasingly into the Chat, and he knows his management is probably holding their heads again in agony- so he can't help but make them mad just a little more, by reaching out behind him to smack your butt once, earning a squeak from your end and a wave of emojis in the chat.

They can't do much against his relationship or you, but that doesn't mean that they like it when he talks so easily and openly about it like this, or even dares to show public displays of affection towards you. He's not supposed to.

He does it anyways.

"Calvin Klein shooting when? Ah~!" He laughs, leaning back with arms crossed. "I'm not sure if I'd be happy with others seeing her in underwear." He jokes, though there's a hint of truth in it. He's painfully possessive over you- he doesn't like you even just playing around with the other members, for example, does everything for you before anyone else could offer. He doesn't like it when you're being taken care of by others, and he knows that's a bit childish. "But maybe normal clothes. Who knows. Maybe one day." He shrugs and reads the chat that asks him what you're doing- so he turns around to check on you in the kitchen-

Instantly jumping up over the back of the couch to run to you.

"Hey hey hey, no climbing that!" He scolds on his way, pulling you down from the counter before setting you down. "What did you want?" He asks, getting the bowl from the higher shelf for you before teasingly pulling your tail. "Don't do that again, yeah?" He shakes his head as he walks back to the couch, sitting in front of the camera again. "What happened? Ah, she couldn't reach something and climbed on the counter. But she could get hurt, so I don't like it." He explains. "Why? Ah, she doesn't do it usually!" He waves off. "She really doesn't. She's just having an episode these days, so she's a bit more trouble than normal." He says, trying to laugh it off- quickly changing topic.

He doesn't want anyone to really dwell on the fact that the most recent airport accident had sent you into an episode of all things.

Episodes in hybrids can vary in severity. Yours is a pretty serious one- it's been more than 24-hours since the airport incident, and yet you're still quiet, you're still regressing, and most of all- still terribly jumpy, as if you're right back to square one when he'd first brought you home, just ten times worse.

He'd been caught off guard this time. The same as security. No one saw it coming.

The airport had been crowded from the start, which had been normal. It's not unusual for him to draw in a large crowd- you never changed anything about that at the end of the day, if anything, you just increased it with many hybrids becoming fans of you, begging their owners to take them to the airports and other places where they could garner a glimpse of you. But this time, a crazed 'fan' had slipped through security, had grabbed after you- acrylic nails scratching hard on your arm, drawing blood and making you panic, as she yelled in a language he couldn't understand fully at you, hand raised to strike.

Jungkook had barely managed to pull you close, dash towards the car with security suddenly on highest alert, until you both had reached and entered the car.

He will never forget the sight of you, terrified, scrambling to crawl over the backseats, trying to get into the trunk area instead because in that moment, everyone had been an enemy in your eyes.

Him included.

It took him more than half an hour to get through to you, reassuring you enough with his strong hold and scent to push through the fog in your mind, and make you remember that he is safe. He's your person. He's to be trusted. And he's not mad at you for biting him in that moment whatsoever.

You'd thrown up the moment you'd entered the apartment due to the stress, before you shamefully hid in the furthest corner of the shower, cowering in panic, body trembling still.

Jungkook had wanted to cry so badly while the guilt crawled up his neck. Instead, he'd given you space, and had instead called a doctor to schedule an appointment asap for today, and one home visit later, you're all bandaged up and medicated to help your anxiety until you're able to think straight again.

He doesn't like that it has to be like that. But he understands that it's all that can be done to at least make your episode a bit more manageable and comfortable.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take some days off. I actually wanted to anyways, it's not just because of what happened, so don't worry." He reassures the fans concerned over your well-being- probably mostly because of the official statement from his company, which also announced his short hiatus from all activities, and a sharp increase in security measures moving forward. You simply crawl over his lap to lay down lazily, tail smacking around, your impatience the result of lack of attention. "Is she okay? Yeah, she has been prescribed some medication, she is okay." He offers, before he changes the topic again for a moment, until he can finally find a good opportunity to end the livestream.

The moment he does, he leans back, tension leaving his body as he watches you turn your head towards him. You've not said a word since the airport- and your gaze is hazy, not quite there.

He feels guilty just looking at you.

"I won't let that happen ever again." He promises, a hand on your head gently petting your ears. "I'll protect you more seriously." He mumbles, and you just watch him, happy to gain his attention even if you've got no idea what he's saying. Right now, you can't really comprehend anything- neither time, nor words, nor anything else.

You just exist, healing in silence it seems like.

And that's fine with him, as long as you'll be okay.

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You're biting on his curled up finger, while he laughs and wiggles your head around with it, no pain whatsoever in your bites.

You do that, occasionally, even when 'normal'. Though in that state, you typically recoil from your own actions, feeling bad for them even with his patient attempts at reassuring you that it's fine with him. But like this, still in your episode, you're a lot more open with what you're usually hiding when it comes to your natural hybrid behavior.

Love bites. That's what Jungkook calls them.

You bite his arm randomly when he stops paying attention to the movie you're supposed to watch together. You bite his neck whenever you cuddle, tangled up limbs and careful nips on his skin, well aware you shouldn't mark him up- even though he wouldn't complain. You bite after his hands when he tries to feed you stuff, though his reflexes tend to be better. And you bite at his clothes and pillows and toys- those you have a tight hold on though, testing his strength every single time.

He doesn't mind any of those things. He knew what you'd be like right from the start.

Your mind is slowly clearing up a bit, the second day into your episode- though it seems like you're still hiding away behind your hybrid behavior, taking your time to properly heal and collect yourself again before facing reality. And he's fine with that.

You can take as much time as you need and want.

He's brushing your hair for you while you sit on his lap, still tired form having just woken up. He can't really leave you alone like this- and you also still need to go to your regularly scheduled appointments to make sure you're recovering physically and mentally. Last checkup they've found some growing bruises near your hip, probably from the car door having accidentally swung into you in all the frenzy, and because you can't really tell anyone how you're feeling right now, everyone including Jungkook is being a little extra careful.

Though he can't say he doesn't enjoy moments like these, where he's truly got you all to himself.

He's opening a pack of wet wipes specifically for hybrid features, and you automatically move to lay your head in his lap as he cleans your ears for you- something back then, the shelter had told him to teach you to do yourself first things first since you hated having it done with a passion, but he's never had any problems with you. Sure, you can be a brat-

But you always have somewhat of a reason for lashing out if it happens, down the line. And he's learned to take a step back and look for that reason first and foremost, before judging or scolding you.

You wiggle around a little bit as he finishes up, putting everything away before he lets you go to lay down somewhere near the windows on a mattress he'd laid out. He chuckles as he walks back inside the living room, holding out your collar towards you, and his heart breaks a little when your ears clearly droop, probably still scared of leaving the apartment. "I know, but we have an appointment today that has to happen at the doctor's." He gently speaks, squatting down to where you're stubbornly rolling away from him, shielding your neck so he can't put your collar on. He clicks his tongue, carefully putting the collar down into his lap before he pulls your wrists away from your neck. "Baby please. I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again as long as I'm with you, okay?" He presses on, and at that, he can see your ears turn towards him, before you slowly give in to his hands pulling yours down.

He carefully places the simple velvet collar around your neck, both an Identification mark and a Yellow mark with the words 'Caution; Nervous' on it. He's received it from the doctor that checked up on you right after your episode had started- and he feels awful that you have to wear it like this.

But he'll do anything to make sure you're safe.

"…kook?" you ask, and he immediately perks up at hearing you speak again, arms open to let you crawl into his lap. "M' scared." You admit, and he nods.

"I know." He agrees, because he really does know that you're still fearful. It's only natural after what had happened. "But I'll do anything to keep you safe. You trust me?" He asks, and after a moment of thinking-

You nod into his chest, making him feel unbelievably proud of himself.

He won't let it go to waste.

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It's been a week, and Jungkook has to admit- he's never been happier that you're back to your old, chaotic self.

"You know you're in trouble." He states, holding up one of his sweaters-

The strings of the hood all chewed up, clearly because of you. You're just sitting on the floor on a random pillow, tail wagging, as if you're proud of your work. "People keep staring at you!" You complain, huffing in anger as you cross your arms. "You need my scent on you, so they know you're taken!" You say, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"It's not like I'm gonna wear this with those strings still in place anyways." He tells you, and you seem to become even more frustrated now. "In fact, I'm not really wearing anything top-wise in the most recent photoshoots-" He says, and suddenly, you get up, and dash past him, your shoulder hitting his body as you push towards your room- But he doesn't want you to just lock yourself in and 'sleep it off' like you always do. He wants you to explode into his face like this- he needs you to be honest for once. "No, you'll stay right here." He tells you, but you shake your head, trying to claw his hand from your arm.

"I don't want to!" You bark at him, now simply letting yourself drop down, hanging limp from his grip, and he just watches how you throw your little tantrum. "Let me go!" You hiss up at him, but he just takes in a deep breath, and continues to hold you.

"No." He denies. "And I can do this all day long, you know?" He shrugs, dragging you over the floor by your arm into the kitchen to get some water out the fridge.

And even as he can see your eyes start to tear up, he doesn't budge.

"You know, I'd really like to help you." He sighs, sitting down on the floor close to you. "I hate seeing you cry."

"Then let me go!" You try again, but he shakes his head.

"I won't." He denies once more. "I told you that's not how it works. Over and over again." He reminds you, his grip softening a bit. "I need you to talk to me, not just bottle things up and shove them into a corner inside your head." Jungkook complains, and you deflate at that.

"I don't like that.. no one takes me seriously." You say, and he tilts his head a bit in question. "People act like.. like I'm not even there." You say quietly, and he's unsure what you mean.

"What are you talking about baby?" He wonders, helping you sit on his lap, legs over his thighs wrapped around him just like your arms. "Many people love you. And by now, almost everyone knows you too." he reminds you, but you shake your head.

"They know me as your hybrid." You say, in a defeated manner. "But people don't see me as.. you know.. your mate." You complain into his shoulder, and at that he hums to himself, seeing the issue finally reveal itself.

"You're jealous?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Sometimes." You admit. "When.. people how well this or that.. famous person fits you, you know." You finally say honestly. "And the worst is that they're often right. You do look nice with a pretty actress maybe, or-" You begin to rant, when a hand runs over your back, up and down.

"Mark me." He tells you, and you freeze.

"What?" You wonder, leaning away to properly look at him. But he just smiles, teasingly almost, and leans his head to the side a little.

"You heard me." He chuckles. "Wherever you want. Mark me up." He shrugs.

"But.. I'm not allowed." You shake your head, unsure if you understand him correctly. "I'm not supposed to."

"I do it all the time to you, don't I?" He asks, and you nod, a little shy now. "So? Only fair if you get to do it too. I'm sorry I didn't realize how.. that must've felt like to you, the fact that I always told you not to do it." He offers, a hand running over your tail.

"But they'll get angry at you-" You remind him, and he still denies it, instead leaning in to peck your lips once. You huff at that, even after the second, the third- but the fourth is when you melt, join in, and let yourself be swepped away by his love.

Jungkook knows best, you remind yourself. He knows what he can and can't do. He'll manage that.

You're mouthing at his neck on instinct, careful still- before you actually do end up biting and marking him, the evidence of this staying even the next day and the day after, causing his management to scold him numerous times- all of them Jungkook simply lets wash over him, not really taking it to heart.

He loves you, and therefore things like these are simply normal. They shouldn't be forbidden. He's not a child anymore.

And, at the end of the day, he doesn't need the fame, or money, or anything else.

He only needs you.

[sunderwight]

In the theme of "just ignoring whatever the people behind the show say", I have disregarded the idea that the people of KL don't cheer to see Meleys' head because they've somehow forgotten that she killed a bunch of them just a short while ago and are thus somehow mourning her.

I think reactions are muddled because they just really don't know how to take this.

The last time a dragon was killed and anyone other than the riders involved saw it would have been when Maegor slew his nephew Aegon and Aegon's dragon Silverwing. And even Maegor didn't parade the dragon through the streets. Because Maegor presumably understood that his control over the populace was reliant upon the image of dragons (and Targaryens, by association) as closer to gods than to mortal things. That image is diminished by reminders that dragons can not only be killed, but are reduced to the same rotting animal parts as anything else after the fact.

So this is strange. It's doubly strange due to Cole's decision to try and call Meleys a "traitor dragon", which was a bad idea and almost certainly went against previously established notions and precedents.

To go back to Maegor again, the guy was such a widely unpopular king that he is still wielded as an example to discredit other Targaryens. Otto warns that Daemon is too like Maegor. Anti-Rhaenyra statements often slander her as "Maegor with teats". Being like Maegor is shorthand for "person technically in the line of succession who should never inherit because the people and gods would not support their rule".

Maegor, however, flew Balerion. The Black Dread. Aegon the Conqueror's dragon. The dragon. The same dragon that Viserys I claimed. The fabled "last living creature to see Valyria before the Doom" that still lives large in the cultural legacies of Westeros even by the time of Robert's rule.

Dragons can live for centuries, and they don't seem to give much of a shit about political allegiances when accepting or rejecting riders. While it's certainly a feather in the cap of any Targaryen that can tame a powerful dragon, you cannot hinge much on the dragon's "opinion". You can call Rhaenys a traitor but not Meleys, because ideally if they'd killed Rhaenys and not Meleys then one day one of Aegon II's own descendants might have claimed and ridden Meleys.

Cole, I think, has made this decision because he finds the idea of dragons as beatable animals reassuring in the wake of watching the battle at Rook's Rest. He's trying to take control, to treat this as a victory. He's not registering the unease and questions he's introduced into the minds of the even the least transgressive common folk by putting a dragon on the level of an animal, or the fact that this undermines certain ideas that bolster Aegon's right to rule as much as Rhaenyra's. After all, the people of King's Landing haven't come back from witnessing a battle where the dragons unleashed their terrible might.

I think this fits well into the impending uprising that is going to result in Certain Events at the dragon pit, too. No cheering. Just unease.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

A Brilliant Color From A Voiceless Völundr

[Jack The Ripper x Nezuko!reader] [platonic]

Warnings: violence, hurt/comfort, ooc, spoilers for season 2

Special thanks to @onecantsimply​ ​ for providing feedback/edits to make this best possible fic it can be. 

The battle was over.  Another victory for humanity, and another god swallowed by their opponent’s malice. 

But was the outcome worth it all in the end? 

Jack the Ripper would remain despised as a psychotic serial killer who sent Heracles’ soul to Niflhel. A sentiment that both human and godly spectators shared when they slandered him in the arena, screaming to give their beloved hero back to them. When one rock bludgeoned Jack across the temple, more of them followed in a steady shower. The crimson vortex of the audience’s emotions only grew stronger, much bigger, when he bowed to them with a wide grin stretched across his bloodied mouth. 

Just when a rotten tomato then hurled towards him, a clawed hand caught it in midair. He blinked in surprise, seeing a young lady standing near him protectively and growling through her bamboo muzzle, [Hair Color] locks and [Favorite Color] kimono covered with just as much sweat and blood as him. 

[First Name]. His Völundr. 

Although he had been informed by Brunhilde that his partner for the fight against Heracles was to be a young lady by the name of Hlokk, certain…circumstances had happened. In short, the aforementioned Valkyrie refused to bond with him because of his reputation even when the existence - or annihilation - of humans was at stake in this Ragnarok. Although Brunhilde struggled with this sticky situation at the last minute when her younger sisters also refused under the same excuse, she found a willing volunteer in [First Name]. Thurd tried to argue with Brunhilde, protesting that their sibling’s mental state was still delicate, yet the latter refused to compromise further. 

She knew [First Name] was much stronger than the other Valkyries gave her credit for. Brunhilde could never forgive the gods for the unspeakable crime they had committed against [First Name]….but if that malice can be harnessed as a weapon, then so be it. The healer who had overlooked her sister’s mental conditioning assured her that the hypnosis was perfected. 

Her enemies were the gods who acted high and mighty. [First Name] would protect the humans as if they were her family. But if a human acted maliciously against her, cripple but do not kill them. 

Dropping the fruit, [First Name] swiveled around and stood in front of Jack, her small back facing him. Before he had a chance to speak to her, she leaned down and hooked his legs around her middle, keeping a steady grip as she stood up at her full height, dashing towards the arena’s exit, carrying him as if he were a small child and not a gentleman with his arms around her shoulders just so he wouldn’t fall backwards. Jack felt a small twinge of embarrassment at their current situation…though how could he have the heart to tell [First Name] otherwise when she was so earnest in doing this?

“Much obliged for your assistance, young lady.” 

[First Name] did not say anything and just kept running down the marbled corridor towards the medical wing. If it weren’t for the slight squeeze of his legs, Jack would have thought that she was ignoring him. 

“I am aware that you cannot speak, given your current…situation, though would you allow me to express my gratitude?” Another squeeze prompted Jack to continue. “Thank you. Firstly, I did not expect such…support from you in the fight, young lady.  ‘Tis one thing to allow me to change anything into a weapon against the gods, but to also harness the power of fire with my piano wire and knives as a conduit? Quite brilliant against a god of immeasurable strength.” Jack frowned. “Yet with this victory…I’ll never see that color of his ever again, will I? It’s funny, really. I reveled in seeing that beautiful color when life was being drained from the people I’ve killed, yet now…all I feel is remorse for extinguishing that light from Heracles. Fate is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

Silence fell between the human and his Völundr for the rest of the way to the medical bay. Nurses were already standing by the double doors, prepped to heal humanity’s representative immediately. When [First Name] lowered him to the ground, he almost expected her to leave and go about her business. But just when he followed the medical personnel inside, the Valkyrie stood in front of him. 

Standing on her tiptoes, [First Name] carefully pulled Jack down to her height before her clawed hands stretched forward to cup his face. She stared at him long and hard, [Eye Color] orbs reflecting neither malice, exhaustion, or grief. Instead, they shined with pride and concern as her fingers gently caressed the bloodied, bruised skin. 

Like a loving parent would act towards their child. 

Although her actions made him speechless, it shocked Jack even more to see the bright and warm yellow light circulating around [First Name]’s body. The very same color Heracles possessed right up to his untimely demise by Dear God. How was this even possible?

“You -”

“There you are!” A voice boomed before [First Name] was suddenly lifted up in the air by two large hands coiled around her waist. The culprit was an enormous green-eyed woman with reddish-orange hair pulled back in a braid and fitted crimson armor. Although his Völundr wiggled around her grasp she did not try to harm the stranger. Instead, she appeared…annoyed? 

Jack blinked, seeing a pair of pristine wings jutting out from the woman’s back. Ah, she must be one of the Valkyries. What was her name again? Hrist? No, that was the samurai’s Völundr. Then who…

“Lady Thrud!” A nurse squeaked. 

The Valkyrie hummed in acknowledgement before she turned her attention to [First Name], a frown stretched across her face. 

“You were fearless in the match, my dear sister. I am proud of you.  But there is a difference between being brave and needlessly reckless!”  A whine emitted from [First Name]’s muzzle as she began to wiggle again in Thrud’s grasp, only to have the older woman tighten her grip ever so slightly on the Ripper’s Völundr. “Don’t you dare say that you are fine! I was in the arena when you were carrying him out, and I know your side is still bleeding! We might be able to heal ourselves, sister, but we are not invincible. Which is why you are coming with me to for a medical checkup, now.” 

[First Name] mewled pitifully in response, stubbornly trying to pry herself free until a pained groan spewed from her muzzle. Thrud looked down and huffed. “See? This is what happens when you do not listen to your elders.” 

Jack could only watch in slight amusement and worry as the Valkyries bickered for a bit longer till [First Name] finally agreed to be taken away to a separate section in the human’s area to be healed. It was obvious that she wanted to stay with him. Although he was touched with her concern, he wanted his Völundr to get some proper rest. She needed to, should they ever be summoned again to fight for humanity’s sake. 

As Thrud walked away from the medical wing with [First Name] in her arms, she peeked over the giantess’ shoulder and waved at him enthusiastically, her voice muffled by the muzzle before she winced, earning another scolding from Thrud.

Jack chuckled and waved back, watching the two figures grow smaller as they traveled further down the corridor before he walked inside the hospital wing. Who would have thought that a black-hearted monster like him would kill a god, and yet be saved by the loving touch of a voiceless Valkyrie? He certainly did not deserve it. Perhaps…this is the ultimate punishment bestowed upon him by God.

Bonus Content:

Once he was healed, Jack took it upon himself to bake a homemade apple pie to share with [First Name]. It took him plus Hrist and Kojiro to persuade the terrified Valkyrie that it was not Brunhilde’s specially made pies. 

[First Name] was allowed to eat and drink without her muzzle so long as she was not within the vicinity of the gods or else she would (possibly) go berserk upon seeing them. 

taglist:

@recreationalfanfics

@nyxthehunterxdblog

@onecantsimply

@rukia-writes

@radioactivesweet

[tamayula-hl]

It's been a long time since I've posted as my daughter and I have both been in bed with the flu and Covid! And once again I apologise for posting an article that is disturbing the atmosphere of HL fandom.

I have discussed the false accusation of trace plagiarism levelled against me with @freewld and have received an apology from her saying that it was a misunderstanding.

Here is a verified image of this case (Twitter/X)

I am now deeply relieved that we were able to end the discussion with a result that convinced her of my innocence. If it was a misunderstanding, I am willing to end it all this time. I would like to end this false accusation racket with a discussion with her. I will refrain from mentioning the matter once and for all (unless another disturbing incident occurs), and I hope that you will refrain from further mention of it too. I also do not want any slanderous behaviour, excessive criticism, speculation or falsehoods towards her, so I strongly urge you all to refrain from doing so. (Just in case , I have compiled screenshots and other evidence regarding the defamation of me that I have received in this row, and submitted and consulted with lawyers and others)

She also requested that I make a correction announcement on four points, which I would like to make here.

She said she conducted the survey with the intention of "using it as one reference for the opinions of her followers".

Tamayula's wish was the reason she decided to make the suspicion of plagiarism public.

She did not vote on the survey from multiple accounts to give herself an advantage.

She only made her Twitter account private after the survey was invalidated.

My verified public article was written in Japanese, which I wrote in a very confused and upset state, and translated into English and published at DeepL. Therefore, it was very difficult to understand and there were many phrases that may have led to your misunderstanding. I would like to apologise deeply for the confusion caused to everyone by my misunderstanding and incomprehensible article, and at the same time, I would like to correct it here. Although it has taken me a long time to respond, I have corrected the English text of the article on Tumblr and made it private, and on Twitter, I have deleted the tweet that referred to the survey.

I was very upset by the false accusations that suddenly fell upon me, and I sincerely regret that I repeatedly exposed myself in an emotional and unsightly manner, and that I failed to respond correctly to the incident. I cannot thank enough those who were kind to me and gave me warm words and those who believed in my innocence. I am sorry, but I will refrain from replying to you now, because if I do so, it is likely to cause an uproar again, but your words of encouragement and support, which I received at a time when I was feeling quite emotionally drained, gave me tremendous emotional support, more than you can imagine. Thank you very much. I am deeply grateful.

As for my future creative activities, I plan to continue with both Tumblr and Twitter as they are now. (However, I intend to move at the end of March in my real life and will be very busy for a few months with preparations and my new life, so my activities will be quite low-key for the time being). My interest in HL, Seb and Omi has not changed, and I am still motivated to paint, but in reflecting on the current turmoil, I now realise that I was very easily influenced by other people's creative styles, and that I had a vague idea of what the boundaries of inspiration were. In the future, I will continue to be self-conscious about my own dangerous values and make every effort to correct them, and if I have used a work as a reference, I will clearly state it and do my utmost not to cause trouble for others as an artist.

Finally, I am very sorry for the trouble I have caused to so many people. And to those of you who have been so warm and thoughtful, once again, thank you very much indeed 🙏 I will continue to do my best in drawing from now on!

[acequinz]

WWX would have been a better sect leader this, Jiang Cheng is the best sect leader that.

Yknow who would actually kill as a sect leader? Wen rouhan.

Jk that was a bad joke, it's every sect leader. All of them have killed in cold and warm blood.

But in all seriousness. Jiang Yanli as a sect leader would have been perfect. Now whether she leads the Jiang sect or the Jin sect because you cannot convince me that Jin Zixuan would have absolutely loved to hand it over to her if she wanted to be the sect leader.

She's gentle and understanding but also firm enough when she needs to reign people in. She is so demure and mindful but insult the people she cares for and see how fast she puts you in your place.

She's unshaken in her belief, she trusted her A-xian until the end and even forgave him for what happened with jzx even when everyone turned against him, she never uttered one mean word towards him and stood strong.

She's amazing. I love her so much and I wish she hadn't died.

I know JFM said that WWX truly understands and follows the Jiang sect motto, I think Jiang Yanli executed it better, because while she didn't have the same skills she never let it hinder what she could do, she was out there helping in the camps and healers and providing so much emotional support, she stood tall by Wei Wuxian even as he was slandered and everyone doubted him but she just worried for him and said it outright.

Also comparing other women candidates for sect leader position.

Wen Qing would also make a good leader, but I think she would prefer doing research so it's a disqualification by choice.

MianMian already has her happy life going and I am not disrupting that, good for you queen enjoy your life with your man, hope he treats you well.

Madam Yu and Madam Jin are immediately disqualified because they are both people who take out their anger of their husbands on your kids and if you can't even handle you anger and upset well, you would not make a good sect leader.

I honest to god can't even think of any other women from this....

Anyways Jiang Yanli my beloved. They had to kill you because you were too powerful and would have eventually fixed shit so WWX wouldn't have had to d ie.

[introverted-imagineer]

The Innocent and Guilty Parties

Warnings: Classist themes and language. This chapter jumps between 3rd person and 1st person. Each section has a name above it to help guide who each bit focuses on.

Hello, fellow Imagineers! Please forgive the long wait. I have been battling writer's block. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have tried and failed to start and write this chapter (so frustrating!) But I truly hope you, fellow readers, enjoy this chapter.

Please support me here and enjoy! http://buymeacoffee.com/the_introverted_imagineer The Introverted Imagineer

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Y/N

‘Why did he just walk away like that?’ Twyla asked innocently. 

She sat in the small wooden tub, her knees under her chin as she hugged her legs tightly to her front, resting her chin on her kneecaps. My body froze, my fingers stiffly nestled in her thick locks as the soap bubbled against her tiny scalp. Why did he walk away? A question I’d like to know the answer to myself. 

‘Well, sweetheart it’s been a long time…I suppose he was just very shocked, you were just a baby when he left and now you’re a beautiful young girl…’

She simply nodded, but her rigid posture relayed the truth, that her queries and worries were still very much at the forefront of her mind. My fingers slightly released from their rigorous mortis like state, allowing me to massage them through her curly locks, a feature I had almost forgotten that resembled Harald’s so closely. 

‘He thinks I’m a thief’ she whispered, whether she intended for me to hear her or not, I couldn’t stop my instincts from diving into protection mode. 

‘Well he doesn’t know you.’ I fiercely responded, the resentment in my voice not mistaken, even by a seven year old. I tentatively reached for the small bowl, scooping water from the tub, rinsing the long curls that reached halfway down her back. ‘I mean to say darling, you’re not a thief, and what transpired this afternoon…’ my voice trailed, my thoughts racing. She wrapped her arms around her legs tighter, almost trying to cocoon into herself, bracing herself for whatever consequence was to come. 

‘Sweetheart…why did you not feel you could go ask your tutor for some spare materials? Why did you just take them?’ I remembered my own mother, how she would always meet troubling topics with an open mind, an open ended question, no matter how much she probably wanted to clip me around the ear. 

She didn’t move from her self made cocoon, only shifting her head so that her cheek rested on her knees, gazing at me side on. Her words clearly rested on the edge of her tongue, but her willingness to share was evident. I reached for the cloth, returning to scrubbing her back as a way to make it seem my concentration was elsewhere. 

‘Because…they don’t like people like us’ she reluctantly uttered. 

‘People like us?’ I responded quizzically. 

Truth was, there was no need for her to explain. A childhood full of slander, stereotyping, and misunderstanding meant I knew all to well what her words meant, and the weight they carried. 

‘He said I’m the Emperor’s bastard…and he accused me of taking things that I didn’t take.’ 

It was almost primal. My urge to attack, to scream, to shout. The wickedness of it all unbearably believable, to think that someone could be so sinister to anyone, let alone a child. My own childhood was plagued with such burdensome thoughts. So carefully I had tried to shape a life for Twyla that wouldn’t be anything similar to my own, a life where there was no space for such thoughts. Yet here she sat, in her most vulnerable state, my heart bleeding with guilt and worry. 

‘Everyone at the palace is the same…even him’ she said, sighing deeply. ‘Him?’ I asked curiously. 

‘My father.’ She sighed. 

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Y/N 

What was usually the sounds of birds calling and insects chirping was replaced by the sound of thumping in the distance. I opened my eyes, gently brushing Twylas curls from my face as she rested in total uninterrupted slumber. The thump followed a continuous beat, the rhythm thumping from afar. 

I quietly rose from the bed, eyes adjusting to the gentle sunlight as I moved the cloth from the window. Each morning, the small settlement was usually busy with farmers milking their cattle, children distributing hay to the livestock with pitchforks that were too big and heavy for them. The sound of crunching as people harvested crops for their market sales. Instead, it was barren. In the distance, I could see familiar figures walking down the hill towards the city, following the sound of the drumming beat in curiosity. It was only when the distant sound of cheering emitted that the reality truly hit. 

The Emperor’s army had returned in full. 

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Twyla

The day before had been exhausting. The overwhelming adrenaline that had transpired from the events of the day before, the trepidation of being faced with her father; someone she always thought deep down she might recognise if their paths ever crossed. The reality that she would no longer be welcome at the palace…although in that moment she wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing. 

The little girl felt heavy, slumber-some at the thought of having to face the day, a new day which didn’t include the long walk to the palace, the droning on of her tutor, or her post lesson debriefs at the tree with her best friend. 

She wearily reached into the bucket of water in the corner of the hut, wiping away the dry tears that had formed crusty cluster on her skin. 

The sky was already shining, contrasting to the normal black sky she greeted most mornings. The hut, usually filled by her mother making her breakfast, was instead stark silent. She opened the door of their small home, startled by the absence of her mother or any of her neighbours. Retreating inside she dressed herself, lacing up a pair of boots that were slightly too small for her growing feet. Her other shoes long lost amongst the gardens of the palace, likely already thrown into a fire somewhere. 

Daring to venture out she stood in the doorframe unsure whether to retreat back inside or explore the vast emptiness. What if they had taken everyone away? What if the settlement had been ransacked while she were asleep? What if they had taken her mother away? Her thoughts racing with questions, anxiety bubbling in her stomach at the thought of her mother being questioned and crucified by her behaviour the day before. 

She took a deep breath, poking her head out, assessing her surroundings determining the safety. Whatever had caused the silence, she was determined to find out why. 

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Y/N

As I edged closer to the city centre, the noise was overwhelming. What had started as a solemn solo journey, I was now swept up in a sea of people constantly pushing one another as more people joined the crowd, all joining the expedition to the central chaos. Women held bouquets of flowers, men held long wreaths that they shook above them in celebration. Children ran around clapping their hands as they weaved through the crowd of people. 

The drumming became louder, the sound of clanging symbols now complementing the rhythmic beat. People stood on the roofs of buildings, people hanging out almost every window of their homes as they cheered and sung praises below. I weaved through the crowd, placing myself at the edge of the stone wall, looking below. A sea of red paraded through the streets, each one equipped with shields and weapons as they waved at the adoring crowd. Flowers rained down as people threw petals and stems at the soldiers, yelling admirations and blessings, some even crying joyfully. The sea of red seemed to endlessly flow through the streets, people following their path right towards the palace walls. 

As I made my way closer to the palace, the sea of red was a stark contrast to the small party of gold that led the parade. So perfectly, the army lined themselves in rows that stretched all the way down and around the path. The crowd watched from above, packed shoulder to shoulder as everyone cast their eyes towards the front of the palace. A long black canopy adorned the front of the palace walls, blocking the view from the crowd above. 

As the drumming stopped, the rhythmic clanging from the symbols subsided, the chatter and cheering from the crowd turned to quiet. Many members of the crowd were unsettled, their eyes desperately searching amongst the crowd of warriors, looking for lost family members and loved ones. Their attention disturbed as two men made their way forward, standing on the small podium facing the mystery canopy. 

Their presence was met with cheers from the crowd below, banging their weapons on their shields, clapping. As the pair peeled their helmets from their heads, I could feel my blood turn cold. His hair, even from such a great distance, those thick brown curls, the bits of yellow naturally bleached by the sun. Exactly like Twylas. Silently grateful for the crowd from above, I hadn’t noticed my weight leaning against others at the mere shock of his grandeur presence. 

From under the canopy, a bejewelling gold figure emerged from underneath. It was only when the priest had finished his speech was the silence broken by an even more chilling voice.

‘Today we welcome back our beloved army, and celebrate their overwhelming victory in Sicily.’ 

Another voice I hadn't heard in seven years. Another voice that reminded me that the last seven years, everything I’d worked for, the home we’d built for ourselves, the friends we’d made, all of it could be ripped away from under us by the click of the Emperor’s fingers. 

The crowd cheers, relishing in all his glory. His every word, his every movement, the crowd couldn’t get enough of his splendour. The excitement amongst the crowd was electric, intensifying as the Emperor invited another presence that terrified me even more. 

Her new name, the Empress Zoe. 

It was in this moment. Looking at the endless sea that was the Emperor’s army, the way the Empress, Emperor and Harald commanded the audience, did I truly realise the fragility of our situation. The last seven years was only but a passing dream. Reality had returned, and it had returned in full. 

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Twyla

Twyla walks cautiously through the streets. The sound of cheering emits from the centre of the city, the calls sporadic and inconsistent. It seemed like a deserted wasteland, clothing left to dance in the breeze, every door and window shut, which were usually open in such heat. She had even seen a couple of rats running freely on the cobblestones. 

Her tireless venture was eventually interrupted by the smell of smoke. Instead of following the cheers that had come from the city, she followed the wafting of burnt embers that encapsulated her senses. It wasn’t a smell of wood, or food, or even animal excrement, all smells she was used to at home. 

She trailed around, poking her head around the corner of one of the buildings, finding the source of the fire itself. The house stood at the end of a desolate lane, a small courtyard with an array of shrubs and overgrown gardens. Clearly a place that lacked any attention for some time. At the edge of the courtyard, a short stone retaining wall stood enclosing the property. It was along the wall she saw a small collection of scrolls and papers, inscribed with words and drawings she couldn’t make out from her distance. 

She tentatively ducked, slowly following the edge of the property. The edge of the retaining wall backed onto a small cliff, but this didn’t seem to deflect her new-found bravery to find out what was written on all the discarded pages. She climbed atop of the small retaining wall, crawling along the top that was just thick enough to maintain her balance and weight. She cautiously looked around, there was no noise, no presence, only a burning fire and a bunch of parchment. She reached down, sitting herself on the wall, and unravelled the wonders of her new-found treasure. 

Upon the parchment, sketches of plants and flowers, along with descriptions of healing properties. Another parchment showed drawings of the night sky, little scribbles and notes she couldn’t quite make out. As she kept unravelling, she didn’t notice the new presence that had entered the courtyard. 

‘Found what you’re looking for?’ The man sarcastically noted, causing the young girl to jolt, dropping the parchment she was holding. Frozen, she stared at the man as he held an armful of leather bound scrolls above the fire. She didn’t know what was more terrifying. Him, or his willingness to burn what seemed to be a library full of information and knowledge. 

‘Bring those to me’ he commanded, dumping the parchment on the ground, taking the metal rod and poking the small fire. Twyla remained still, casting her eyes down at the cliffs edge, debating if it would be a worthy escape. But the man interrupted again. ‘Don’t be foolish, just bring me some of those papers by your feet’ he said, not even looking up at her, clearly more concerned with his task at hand. 

She carefully placed her feet on the ground beneath her, watching the mans every movements as she collected bits of paper. He looked up at her, his eyes a natural squint, his hair untamed, his skin a deep brown that indicated he had spent too much time in the sun. She slowly approached, standing opposite him, the fire a barrier between them that made the young girl feel a little safer. 

‘Why are you burning all this?’ She asked, her arms full of parchment. 

He looked down, his lips pursing, slightly hunched, clearly uncomfortable by her sudden inquisitiveness. He glanced at her, his attention intensifying on her as he took in all her features. 

‘Where are your parents?’ He asked, countering her question with another. Little did Lief know, it wouldn’t be enough to deter her. Little did Twyla know, Lief Erikson already knew all too well who the her parents were. 

‘Answer my question first’ she responded more confidently. Lief couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, the similarities to y/n evident. He watched the young girl, wondering how similar she might be to his own niece or nephew. 

‘I’m burning these because the information they possess are not helpful for anyone’ he said solemnly, his attention turning back quickly to the fire. 

‘Why is that their fault?’ Twyla asked, tilting her head to one side. 

‘Whose fault?’ Lief asked unenthusiastically. 

‘Well…all this information? Just because you don’t think it’s helpful for you doesn’t mean it’s not helpful for anyone else?’ Again, her attention unwavering, making Lief feel all the more uncomfortable. He didn’t want to have to tell a child about the horrors of Syracuse or the guilt that he carried since. 

‘It’s just not something anyone should have’ his voice carrying a tone of impatience as he said it. The young girl let out a sigh, raising one of her eyebrows, a feature that undeniably matched that of Harald. It always bothered him when Harald did that, but he couldn’t find himself getting the same feeling from the young curious girl. 

‘You disagree?’ Lief asked, placing the metal rod to the side, crossing his arms. The young girl was clearly tense, her head lowered slightly as her eyes flickered between Lief and the fire. ‘Go on’ he said, forcing his voice to be more cheerful. 

‘Well…I think that there are things here that could be used to better the world…and maybe there are things here that can be shared’ her words trailed off as she busied herself with the scrolls in her arms, reaching for one in particular. Her new found confidence was striking to Lief, as the previously timid girl walked around the fire pit, her arms outstretched as she offered Lief a piece of parchment. He tentatively took the page, unravelling it’s contents. On the page, a series of drawings and words about plants and flowers. 

His throat hitched. The memory of Miriam, how she carried such plants on her person to manage pain and aches. It was only the sight of Twyla in front of him that brought him back from his internal darkness. He sighed, unsure of how to balance the moral queries of the little girls questions and what happened in Syracuse. 

‘Maybe I can take some? My mother and I could maybe use some of this to help people? Better than burning it?’ She said, opening scrolls and assessing the contents. Lief couldn’t help but feel enamoured by the young girls curiosity, and her proficient wisdom. He couldn’t help but admire the young girl, and the job her mother had done in raising her. He hoped his own sister had done the same for the child she bore. 

Lief smiled to himself. ‘You have a look, and show me what you want to take, I can’t promise I’ll let you keep everything, but if you think these writings will make the world a better place then I’ll let you take it.’ The young girl couldn’t help but jump up in excitement, and Lief happily watched as she took to her task, unravelling all the parchment within reach.  

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Harald

The palace, that had stood solemnly and lonely for the past seven years, now possessed a resurgence of life. A grand feast covered the tables in the main hall, there was chatter, and laughter, almost causing a headache for the Empress. The Emperor strode around his grand hall, the familiarity giving him a sense of peace. His castle the same as when he left, but with his newfound successes, it felt all the more glorious. 

The Empress watched from afar, watching as Harald politely shook hands and engaged in conversation with admirers, accepting congratulations on his new title Spatharkandidatos. She watched as Harald glanced over at his friends, trying to politely dismiss the strangers who were desperate to talk to him. The Empress slowly made her way towards the group, anticipating her moment with Harald without drawing the suspicions of her husband. 

As Harald finally approached the group, the Emperor approached also. ‘Harald!’ He cheered, his smile wide, his teeth gleaming as Harald directed his attentions to him, bowing dutifully. As the Empress was about to speak, the Emperor interrupted again. 

‘Harald Sigurdsson, I’m disappointed to not see your wife or daughter here celebrating with us’ he said, wrapping his arm possessively around the Empresses waist. The discomforting look did not escape their friends, however the Emperor was none the wiser. 

‘After seven years away, it’s overwhelming for us all I suppose’ Harald offered as diplomatically as he could. The truth was Harald was speaking more for himself than of y/n and Twyla. The parade, the honouring of his new title, his return to Constantinople had been all a blur since he came face to face with his daughter the night before. Like the walking dead, his consciousness was punctured and subdued by the fear in his daughters eyes when he had faced her. Harald had gone to bed that night, replaying the scene over and over. How he had yelled, how he had scared her, but how he sensed that the life he had tried to set up for her had not acclimated at all. The prospect that his daughter had succumbed to a life of thievery and pickpocketing to survive. The way her clothes were ripped, the mess of items that fell from her bag. Harald was disappointed, but no more than himself; how he had simply walked away, failing to acknowledge his wife nor daughter after seven years of absence. 

His guilt was matched, however, by anger. How y/n had never responded to any of his letters, how nobody seemed to know anything of his wife or daughter when messengers travelled between Constantinople and wherever the war had taken them. In his mind, y/n had robbed him of what little he could have. Seven years of wonder, of broken hope when messengers informed him they had no news of his family, that his wife refused to take any letter or message from him. The torture of the unknown was more menacing than any opponent on the battlefield. 

‘I sent the invitation personally’ the Empress remarked, placing her hand on her husband’s which still rested on her waist. Harald’s face dropped, his eyes seeming sullen all of a sudden. ‘The child had stopped attending her lessons…I wonder if she is unwell?’ The Empress continued. But the Emperor interrupted once again, sensing the confusion and concern that was rattling inside his noble warrior. ‘My dear, this is not the time to discuss such personal matters’ he whispered, his tone condescending. 

‘Emperor’ a voice called, drawing his attentions to another part of the room. He placed a gentle pat on his wife’s lower back as he walked away.  

‘Do you still wish to return to Norway to be King?’ The Empress asked. 

‘My desires have never wavered. It is my destiny’ Harald responded, his unwavering doubt clearly a disappointment to the Empress. 

‘Destinies can change’ she remarked confidently. 

Harald was not naive. It was very clear, even after seven years apart, the Empresses admiration for him had not faltered. Harald knew that her feelings was more a cause of danger for him rather than the Empress herself. But even with a wife, Harald could feel his insides quiver. There was no doubt, the Empress was beautiful, generous…possessive, but Harald needed to get closer to her. She clearly knew something about his child, and he was desperate for information. 

His sense of danger heightened as a group of palace guards approached him in the middle of the celebrations, leading him to the underground of the palace, away from the safety of anyone else. 

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Y/N

‘Y/n’ Mathilda’s voice softly called as I sat in the garden, ripping weeds from the crops, aimlessly throwing them over the small wooden fence. Anger. All I felt was anger. How proudly he stood, basking in the glory of an empire that wasn’t his. How the Emperor and Empress decorated him with titles. 

‘Harald is back’ she said, letting herself in through the small garden fence, picking up the destruction that I had clearly made by ripping away at the garden. 

‘I know. I saw him’ I stated coldly. 

‘You weren’t at the celebration?’ She said, more as a question rather than a statement. I couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of it. ‘How was I supposed to know that I had been called to see the great Harald Sigurdsson? He certainly didn’t say anything yesterday’ I sarcastically and aggressively stated. 

‘You saw him yesterday?’ She quizzed, lowering herself down to the ground next to me. ‘He called Twyla a thief, and then walked off when we finally came face to face. SHIT!’ I exclaimed, holding the stems of an onion plant that clearly wasn’t ready to be pulled. ‘Seven years, you’d think he might have at least said hello or asked how we were, not fucking walk off’ I yelled, startling the livestock as they ran further away from the fence near the house. ‘You know, from what those viking scum took from us all those years ago, the events we endured, how our lives have been affected, why is it that people like that seem to get every fucking thing they want!’ 

I could barely catch my breath before Mathilda made another remark. 

‘Are you jealous y/n?’ She asked quietly. 

It was then that my arm seemed to involuntarily thrust, my arm giving a sharp whip as the premature onions went flying into the paddock. 

‘I’M NOT JEALOUS, THE WORLD JUST TIME AND TIME PROVES OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO BE FUCKING CRUEL AND COMICALLY UNFAIR’. It was only when my shouting finished did I realise that a sheep had jumped the paddock, and my cheeks were wet with tears. 

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Harald

‘Forgive the intrigue, but no one can know where this place is’ the Emperor noted, standing cynically at the end of the hall. Harald, startled, remained quiet as he waited for whatever move the Emperor was about to make. 

The Empress stepped into view, making Harald’s insides quiver. 

‘Can I trust you Harald Sigurdsson?’ The Emperor asked. 

His question struck two emotions within Harald. Disbelief and fear. Disbelief that after seven years of loyal service, that the Emperor would question his loyalties. Fear, as to the uncertainty of the Empresses presence. 

‘I believe I have earned that trust’ he responded. The Emperor smiled, turning around as he walked further into the private chamber. 

‘Then enter the Emperor’s vault’ he announced cheerfully. 

The room was filled with gold, silver, and jewels. It was unlike anything Harald had seen. In that moment, he was finally distracted from any thought of his daughter or y/n. His attention wavering even further when the Emperor announced it was for Harald to take, and not simply admire. 

But the diverted attention only lasted momentarily. Even faced with all the treasures he could ever dream of, he still wanted information on his greatest treasures of all. 

‘What of my daughter…and wife?’ Harald asked. The Emperor smiled. ‘I admire your devotion to family’ he said, strolling casually towards another door. ‘For this, I shall leave you to deliberate with my wife’ he said, exiting the chamber mysteriously. 

The Empress watched him eagerly, teasingly strutting closer and closer to his large frame. But Harald was determined to keep his composure. Eyes were always everywhere.

‘I tried to give your letters to your wife personally’ she said. ‘I even tried to give them to your daughter to take home, but they never seemed to make it home’. Harald’s hands tensed, clamping his fingers into a fist. 

‘You said she has stopped attending her lessons?’ He asked. 

‘Harald, I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but your daughter has been accused of stealing prized jewels from the palace.’ Harald couldn’t help but be confused by her statement. ‘What kind of prized jewels?’ He asked curiously. ‘Some relics that clearly have been taken from the church, her tutor managed to retrieve from her belongings, but there are more missing items that the clergy have noticed.’ Her faced offered a comforting softness as she looked at Harald, lifting her hand and brushing her hand against his cheek. ‘I’m sorry, this is not news I wanted to share’ she whispered softly. Defeated by the news, she trailed her hand down his arms, placing something solid in his hand. 

‘But you don’t have to choose, you can have everything’ she said, gesturing to the items in the room, before taking her leave, leaving Harald Sigurdsson vulnerable and confused. 

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Harald

’This is what you fought for. Everywhere we went these were your rewards’ Harald exclaimed, baffled by the sight of Lief burning all the knowledge that he had procured over the last seven years. But Lief was determined, he had already been diverted by the young girl earlier that day, he simply wanted to finish what he started. 

‘I intended to use the knowledge to make the world better. I have used it to make it worse’ Lief coldly responded. 

Lief, what happened in Syracuse was not your fault’ Harald said, so matter of factly in a way that had always irritated Lief. But as he looked at Harald, his stern face softened to one of compassion, he couldn’t help but speak. 

‘She’s a lot like you…the expression similar’ Lief said, waving the scroll in his hand. ‘Expect, she’s a lot wiser than you or I in many ways’ he said, facing his back to Harald as he retrieved more materials to burn. 

‘Who?’ Harald asked curiously. 

‘Twyla’ Lief responded, deciding not to look at Harald, incase his words hit deeper than intended. 

‘You met her? You talked to her?’ Harald asked, pacing closer to Lief, his face one of disbelief. Lief simply nodded casually, fuelling Harald more. 

‘She was here? What did she say? What is she like?’ Harald asked, his strong hand grasping onto Lief’s wrist as he went to throw another scroll in the fire. Begrudgingly, Lief dropped the scroll, walking over to the retaining wall, taking a seat as he looked at the dumbfounded Harald Sigurdsson. 

‘She is stubborn, but wise and curious, especially for someone so young. She is kind, but not in a manner that is overbearing. She is cautious, but bold. She is certainly her mothers daughter.’ He said, realising that his last sentence might not be a comforting factor to his friend. 

‘Did she ask about me at all?’ Harald asked, his vulnerability surprising Lief. 

‘Not specifically’ Lief responded. ‘I asked her where she learnt to read, she said she used to go to classes her father had organised for her before he left for the war’ he noted nonchalantly. Harald raised his hand, covering his mouth in frustration as he scratched at his chin. ‘The Empress told me she’s been stealing from the palace’ Harald responded, his face back to that sternness that was so common to him. 

Lief laughed, angering Harald. 

‘What?’ Harald demanded. 

‘Harald, you and I come from very different worlds. I have known thief's, and pickpockets, and liars. Your daughter is not one of them��� Lief said, so matter of factly.  

‘Well Elena said…’ Harald begun, only to be interrupted by Lief. 

‘Elena is dead, she is now the Empress Zoe. Elena was your friend, but the Empress is not’ he sternly told Harald, reaching for more scrolls and waltzing back over to the fire. 

‘Well explain to me why she has been accused of thievery, has stopped attending her lessons, and my daughter nor her mother ever responded to any of my letters? The Empress seems to be the only person willing to tell me what's been going on, so explain to me how I cannot consider her a friend if she’s the only one telling me anything of use’ Harald impatiently remarked, using his fingers to count off each fact. 

‘Maybe you should ask y/n yourself’ Lief remarked, causing his friend to stomp off angrily with a final remark. 

‘My wife has refused contact with me in seven years, why would she start now!’

Little did either of them know, the young girl sat hidden, her back pressed against the wall, having heard everything between Lief Eriksson and Harald Sigurdsson.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Y/N

‘YOU LIAR’ Twyla’s voice screamed, causing me to jump. 

‘What are you talking about sweetheart?’ I asked, dropping the large wooden spoon in the pot. ‘And what are all those scrolls?’ I asked, rising from the small stool, giving her my full attention. 

‘I HEARD HIM, I HEARD HIM TALK ABOUT THE LETTERS!’ She yelled, stomping her foot on the ground. 

‘WHO AND WHAT LETTERS?’ I yelled back, my eyes closed, my hands involuntarily twitching. 

‘MY FATHER! He says he sent letters!’ She exclaimed, my dumbfound expression not deterring her. 

‘You spoke to him?’ I asked, squatting to match her height as I reached out, trying to comfort her distresses. But she took a step back, determined to keep composure. 

‘No, he told the man, his friend…Leaf’ she said heatedly. 

‘Lief?’ I asked. 

‘He told Lief you didn’t respond to his letters’ she expressed defeatedly. ‘Maybe he wouldn’t believe I was a thief if he knew a little about me, but you didn’t reply to his letters.’ She dropped the scrolls, her mouth turned downward. 

I cautiously shuffled closer, placing my hands gently on her now-crossed arms. 

‘Twyla, I never received any letters.’ 

[horizon-verizon]

I don’t understand the fuss. Not long ago, people were complaining that it didn’t make sense for Rhaenyra to carry a sword, completely ignoring its symbolic meaning. Yet, just a week later, Audrey Benjaminsen’s artwork for the new Fire and Blood edition by The Folio Society shows Rhaenyra holding a sword. Seriously, it feels like people are just hating for the sake of it.

Anon is responding to this post, where I reblog many things that are in response to S2 Rhaenyra holding out a sword before S2 aired. My personal thoughts, I had way more issue with Rhaenyra a sword around like she either had intention to use it or she knew how to fight with it more than her holding a sword at all. And bc it's these writers and I trust none of them, I thought they they might try to make Rhaenyra into a swordswoman like Visenya when she was nothing like that. And thus, in the writers' eyes and after the producers have:

seemingly decided to both have Emma say the "power" the blacks/she should have will not be in jewels and clothes and appearance when canon Rhaenyra very much both just loved these things/"beautifying" herself and used these things to signify her status (femme-coded things) to make their Rhaenyra more "serious" as if canon!Rhaenyra was not a fierce woman and "girliness" means "not strong" bc the idea is you lean into "femmness" and "femininity" is socially coded as inherently "weak"

remade older!Rhaenyra into a much more people-pleasing person than she originally was, her in hotD seemed like it'd stay on track of her being too eager for approval from men instead of feeling entitled to support and loyalty as she was

(Yes, Emma waving the sword around could also be interpreted as just Rhaenyra trying to practice feeling powerful or pondering her own limitations or learning to defend herself enough; the issue is that bc it's these writers who remain...weird about how to write their female characters, well you know?)

All in a bid to make her more "likeable" or to get already sexist-based audiences to think she is a better leader simply because she (show!her) refuses to recognize a danger when it apears and properly prepare for it. Is it commendable and necessary to try to neotiate your way out of possible violence, yeah...that's not what show!Rhaenyra did, though. She was ready to totally capitualte, whic NOT good in of inteself for anyone, esp her and her kids (Otto and hostages). And it makes as if the book was not showcasing an imperfect victim-turned to victmizer was still only usurped bc she was a woman.

It's very important in how Rhaenyra was not as compassionate as Daenerys or even Alysanne, but it is important to not react to the gender violence and injustice of the entire war being predicated on upholding male entitlement (regardless of a woman's true character). The slander done against her. Her being NOT a swordswoman, leaning more into the femme-coded aspects of womanhood as understood in Westeros--and thus NOT being closer to the Westerosi/Western ideal of a "nongirly" woman--lends to the idea of a "girly" irl being "strong", even with GRRM not allowing her to participate a bit more in the non-fighting aspects of war when he's writing so much about war and its effects. One cannot and should not expect a person, man or woman, to repress their grief and also do a fabulous "job" in order to prove they are definitively a good leader...Rhaenyra lost sons successively, the same ones she worked for years to protect from the court and the greens after having had little choice to marry a man who no one would ever believe fathered her heirs.

Which is why I do not care for the "show is different from the canon" argument, bc the show has been doing a horrendous disservice to a huge element and point of the Dance from the very beginning of S1. A show's characters can deviate, but HOW do they do so, that's the real question that matters!

So, it appears that people are misunderstanding each other or misunderstanding the PRES2 priemere comments of Rhaenyra with a sword. The fuss is what exactly Rhaenyra's seen with a sword means as her being a woman trying to defend her lawfully-given rights towards leadership. And people are ignorant of how women in history has and continue today to impress others and esp men that they should and can be a leader or occuoy a previously male-dominated position OR create and enforce performances of leadership to affirm their power traditionally outlawed, excluded, or proibited to them. And some people are just hating to hate, but some are trying to bring a level of nuance.

[haggishlyhagging]

[Christine de Pizan] began [The Book of the City of the Ladies] with a marvelous account of her own transformation of consciousness. Sitting in her study reading one of the many misogynist tracts of the day, she began to wonder "how it happened that so many different men. . . are so inclined to express . . . so many wicked insults about women . . . It seems that they all speak from one and the same mouth." She examined herself and her experience and could find no evidence to support the claims of these men. Yet, she bowed to the authority of the male experts. "And so I relied more on the judgement of others than on what I myself felt and knew." Here, for the first time in the written record, we have a woman defining the tension every thinking woman has experienced—between male authority denying her equality as a person and her own experience. Christine was deeply depressed by this recognition, when, as in a vision, three ladies appeared to her to comfort her and to bring her out of the ignorance which had blinded her intellect. Lady Reason explained to her that she had been selected to "vanquish from the world the same error into which you had fallen" and that she was entrusted with the task of building a city of ladies in which all valiant women might find refuge from attacks and slander. The other two ladies, Rectitude and Justice, would help her in this task. Awed and elated, Christine asked the three women to explain to her why men had so universally attacked and slandered women. The ladies offered various explanations: men were motivated by greed, envy, impotence and thwarted desire. The ensuing long dialogue with the three spiritual guides allowed Christine de Pizan to develop her historical argument and to illustrate by exempla the virtues of women.

This allegorical framework, which assumes that the patriarchal explanatory system is built on error, structures the book. It determines also the way in which she uses her sources. Where Boccaccio, with a few exceptions, followed a roughly chronological outline, Christine de Pizan arranged her list to follow a series of themes and arguments. She also used different criteria of selection. She wished to write a universal History of women and their achievements, therefore she included women of Antiquity, the Christian era and even her contemporaries. She reinterpreted the lives of the women on her list in a significant way, since her aim was different from that of Boccaccio, who simply wanted to prove that there had been illustrious women in Antiquity. Christine de Pizan wrote in defense of women against what she considered the misogynist attacks of men, and she wrote from an entirely woman-centered point of view. In revising Boccaccio's list therefore not only did she exclude all evil women, but she often reinterpreted the stories of women with a bad reputation so as to present them in a positive light. This is most obvious in her treatment of Medea, who is cited under the heading "The Faithfulness of Women in Love" without any reference to her murdering her children. Boccaccio's story of Medea abounds in condemnation of her treachery, her witchcraft, her cruelty. He described her murder of her brother, her theft of her father's wealth, her winning of Jason by sorcery and finally her murder of his children out of jealousy. Christine ignored all these crimes. Instead, she credited Medea with the wisdom and magic skill which she used to help Jason win the Golden Fleece on the condition that he would make her his wife and be faithful to her. "However, Jason lied about his promise, for after everything went just as he wanted, he left Medea, for another woman." At this, Christine tells us, Medea turned despondent, and thus she ends Medea's story. . . .

Neither Boccacio nor Christine could meet the standards of objectivity demanded of professional historians nearly 600 years later, and one cannot expect that they should. The changing of evidence to make a point or impart a didactic message was a well-established convention in the Middle Ages. What is remarkable is Christine's consistent insistence on her right, as a woman, to interpret the past from a point of view sympathetic to women, and her speaking as their advocate.

After questioning the truth of the historical tradition by pointing out the male bias of selection, Christine attempted to answer every commonplace prejudice voiced against women. Men had charged that women governed unwisely when they had power. Christine refuted this argument by citing a long list of exempla of women who governed wisely and well. She answered the charge of women's intellectual inferiority by citing a long list of women who excelled in learning, in poetry, in science and in philosophy. Here, as elsewhere, she freely mixed historical figures with allegorical and mythological persons. She also attempted to show female superiority in sensibility and caring by citing a long list of virtuous wives and mothers, chaste virgins and self-sacrificing women. All of this material evidence allegorically built the city of the ladies. When it was finished, the Queen of Heaven was invited to be its first inhabitant, attended by a large number of female saints.

Having thus completed the city, Christine dedicated it to "ladies from the past as well as from the present and future," urged all ladies to take refuge in it and to defend and guard it against enemies and assailants. She explicitly defined men "who accuse you of so many vices in everything" as the enemies and urged women to flee from male slanders and entrapment, "to cultivate virtue, to increase and multiply our City, and to rejoice and act well."

The allegorical city of the ladies, filled with heroines of worth and valor, represents the first consistent effort by a woman at constructing Women's History as a means of creating collective consciousness. Her attempt at creating a unifying ideology is deliberately broadly based; she speaks at various points of “all women—whether noble, bourgeois, or lower-class,” and even her seeming distinction between the virtuous and others is not to be taken too seriously since in her various lists she manages freely to include wicked and even sinful women. Her essential contribution was not only to attempt to rebut misogynist arguments by means of historical evidence but to insist that patriarchal generalizations and dicta would have to be evaluated and tested in light of the female experience, past and present. What Christine de Pizan had to offer to women was the insight that women must look to other women for their defense and that the collective past of women could be a source of strength to them in their struggle for justice.

-Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness

[desideriumdaydreams]

I posted about this, vaguely, on my main blog... but, since it involves Desiderium, wanted to post more about it here.

Someone random stole two pictures of Flopsie and my self-insert, Flora, to use them as ammo against somebody else in a PSA. This person has never contacted me. I had to be informed by a third party a few days after my art was stolen.

They decided to steal the art because they wanted to accuse somebody else who had made an Art Fight for me last year (what the PSA creator called "a commission," oddly) of supporting CP, and without asking me, decided that my self-insert was "a child" and "a baby."

I've always known that depicting my own body proportions- and sometimes depicting them even a little more chibified- would be "iffy" for some audiences. But there is a difference between feeling uncomfortable with it and calling somebody you haven't made contact with, point-blank, "CP," "pedo," "little girl," and saying I wear "children's dresses," since I do wear frilled nightgowns irl to bed.

If I had been spoken to I could have let them know she was a self-insert, and indeed follows my own body type and mannerisms, but based on how this person speaks down on others I doubt they would have cared. And, I personally believe they did not contact me first because they knew if I had told them the character is of-age, then they would not have had extra ammo against the person their PSA was actually about.

I draw cartoony porn of a fantastical version of myself with my own plushies. I do not draw NSFW of children. Whether one is uncomfortable by it or not, you cannot slander them like that. You are not "more moral" by being mean to somebody over something you don't even understand, because you didn't even speak to them about it.

I get that people are very wary online, but I do not feel that these accusations were made in good faith, especially given the incorrect details of the PSA (that I commissioned that person) and the commentary (OP blackmailing someone, saying opposition was 'going over their head,' and claiming the one questioning them was somehow my friend when I'd never seen them before).

I have half a mind to give out this person's usernames- after all, if they are making PSAs like this they want to be seen, and do want attention on it. But I don't feel like it would be worth it, given everything. But, I have taken screenshots of the most heinous parts of their commentary.

If you must involve yourselves in PSAs, just please do not be like this person (hell, you shouldn't speak to anyone like that at all.) "Assumptions make an Ass out of You and Me," and all that.

[theridgebeyond]

one last thought before I go to bed. I am so scared of the new Bonhoeffer movie. for the following reasons.

All The Light We Cannot See had such a horrifically dangerous depiction of Nazis that I am so afraid Bonhoeffer will just be another Captain Evil “I vill shoot zhe puppy” von Evilheimer parade. Because that portrayal lulls us to sleep with the lie that it could never happen here.

Angel Studios has already produced a lot of far-right media. Like, an alarming amount. Even The Chosen jumped ship.

Christian Nationalists, for some reason, love pretending that Dietrich Bonhoeffer is one of them. From the guy who wrote the literal book on Bonhoeffer becoming a major Trump stan to the Bible study in my own church watching documentaries about how Bonhoeffer totally supported Christian Nationalism, there are endless people who are convinced that the first person to publicly denounce Adolf Hitler (and at the age of 27), who went from preaching that “Jesus doesn’t mean we should actually love our enemies, that would be like saying Jesus doesn’t want us to protect the Volk!” to fighting white supremacy in America the minute he had his conversion in the Black Church in Harlem during the Harlem Renaissance, and was very likely a part of two or three assassination attempts against Hitler (who at the time was publicly endorsed by the Evangelical church in Germany and given a pass by the Lutheran church in Germany), is somehow a fucking Christian Nationalist? How are we looking at the same guy?!

I have seen far too much slander, far too many misguided interpretations, and far too many red flags to have any faith in the Bonhoeffer movie. I haven’t seen the trailers, I don’t know a thing about this film. But if my suspicions are correct (and I hope I’m horribly horribly wrong) it’s just going to be more fuel for the alt-right to make its way mainstream.

[themonotonysyndrome]

For the question I asked earlier, (what if the children were slanderred by the press), I had sort of an add on question?

Let’s say the situation and scenario are the same as before, but the teens have now reached their late teens. Would Cecila and Castin do the same? Would Rhett tell Cecila to still calm down? As Castin cannot now protect them from the media’s cruelty and slander towards them, what will he do?

I don’t know if age makes a difference, but I thought that it would’ve been more serious given that they are now older; and they see it for themselves. Will Cecila still do the same thing, or more of a cruel punishment?

What would happen then?

Thanks, as always, Mono!

Castin and Celica are still enraged but Celica is gonna use this as a teaching moment. Remember, she's a Baroness first.

So she's gonna let their children decide on how they wanna deal against this defamation and slanders. Celica's only statement is: "Remember. They did not just slandered the two of you. They slandered the reputation of House Anesidora as well."

Castin, immediately wary. "Babe..."

Celica: "Be at ease, husband. I will support whatever decision our children will make."

At first, Dain and Deirdre would definitely feel hurt and confused when they read the newspaper. They didn't even do anything wrong! They literally just came back from the academy!

But after the hurt comes the anger. Dain is feeling particularly nasty with pettiness, and Deirdre wants to throw some hands. Castin helped them work out their negative emotions, but the pettiness is still there.

If they want to start shit up? Fine.

It's also interesting to note that the twins felt pretty powerful because, for once, they had their mother's full attention and resources. It made them feel giddy and special. But since they're still teenagers, they asked for Celica's help in planning how they could get back at the media and journalists.

(I haven't figured out yet what their revenge entails, though, so you have to excuse me for that.)

All in all, unlike how Celica would do it, the twin's revenge isn't as cruel as their mother's.

[smolwritingchick]

How would Jungkook feel when he keeps seeing rude questions about Jennie like "Why are you dating a black woman instead of a Korean woman?" Would he be really mad or annoyed? What would the other members' reaction be if they see rude questions/comments about Jennie and Jungkook as a couple?

Definitely a mixture of both. It’s ridiculous getting bombarded with ignorant and nosy questions about Jennie. It’s nobody’s business and he can love whoever he wants. It’ll anger him to see some people make it seem like Jennie isn’t “good enough” for him and that “he can do better.”

Like who tf are you to tell him who he can’t and cannot date? After everything he has been through to confess his love for her, do you honestly think he’s going to stand for the slander? Nah. He will be vocal and won’t play about Jennie. Same goes with Jennie defending Jungkook when people rudely ask why she is dating an Asian guy instead of a black guy. They will defend each other and shut down any rude questions or comments. The way some people are about interracial relationships is so weird. The rude comments and so on. It’s so ridiculous.

Big Hit will also step in to take legal action against malicious comments against the couple. Once the blacklists of antifans start to drop with it trending on social media, people are going to understand that Big Hit is serious about the safety of their members. And I see it getting a lot of praise especially with them protecting a black woman who is getting hit the most with antifans hating.

The members will think it’s laughable how some people assume JenKook are going to break up easily. They made it this far, they will keep going and withstand through anything. I see the members immediately frowning at the rude questions and comments and call them out on it.

I know at times it seems whenever idols date, everyone is pretty much silent on the matter. But I wanted to go a different route and have the members protect JenKook and defend them during interviews and so on. The constant vocal support and praise will be well received by real fans and supporters of BTS and JenKook will definitely feel the love from everyone

I rambled but I hope that sort of answered things! As I write the chapters the ideas will come to life and be better when written.

Also I apologize in advance for the hurtful words I will be writing for the negative comments regarding their relationship 😣💜

[female-malice]

Dave Zirin's article slandering Title IX lawyer Nancy Hogshead Makar:

Rightists have a genocidal perspective on trans kids. Now they want the federal government to use Title IX to further push trans young people from public life.

One Olympic gold medalist who supports a trans bans and has written upon it extensively has been the swimmer Nancy Hogshead-Makar and her organization Champion Women. As Dr. Johanna Mellis, cohost of the End of Sports Pod tweeted to me (and I reprint with permission): “Enraging how several cishet [cisgender, heterosexual] white women like NHM [Nancy Hogshead–Makar] who ostensibly vote Dem and believe in abortion rights are trans panic-ers and boosting their platform off such bigotry.”

I guarantee that these very forces will at some point call for Title IX to be thrown out. No one connected to women’s athletics should give them one droplet of credibility. They should be aghast to see Title IX, some of the most important legislation for gender equality ever produced by this country, used as a cudgel to keep trans kids off the playing field. They should call that what it is: an obscenity. Either Title IX is a shining example of inclusion or it is not. For it to be used months after its 50th anniversary as a tool for bigots is the true perversion in this story.

The anti-trans feminists of the sports world say that their support is only for this bill and that they aren’t part of the larger movement of exclusion backed by street violence being whipped up against trans people. This is a cheesecloth-thin cover for the reality of what this legislation represents. HR 734 is a not-subtle way of saying that trans people have no place in public life. Not surprisingly, the same GOP rallying in lockstep behind this bill is also pushing Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene’s (R-Ga.) “Protect Children’s Innocence Act,” which would make it a felony for doctors to provide gender-affirming health care to transgender minors. That is also going to be taken up this week. The GOP establishment is all in. The bills are strongly supported by the Conservative Political Action Conference and its leader, Matt Schlapp, who is accused of sexually assaulting a male staffer. At CPAC over the weekend, Michael Knowles, a GOP yipping head, called for the “eradication of transgenderism,” only to threaten lawsuits against people who accurately described his speech as violent and even genocidal. As a Jew, if someone at CPAC—perhaps next year—called for the “eradication of Judaism” and then explained it by saying, “We just meant Judaism, not Jews,” my mind would not be put at ease. And not surprisingly, there has been no condemnation of these statements either by CPAC or anyone who claims to be pro-trans in every area except for sports.

–

Nancy Hogshead-Makar's response to Dave Zirin's sorry excuse for journalism:

I. am. pissed. I know Dave Zirin. I've been on his podcast and he has my contact info, including being connected here on Twitter. Yet he uses me to make this ridiculous argument that pro-female bills that put up appropriate boundaries around our sport categories are "anti-trans" ... and that I'm part of an effort to eliminate Title IX. You have lost your mind.

Tell me Dave, how many times must I repeat that I want transgender people to have great lives, in employment, in classrooms, in living their best lives... but that there are a few places where biology matters. I've said it on CBS Sunday Morning, Dr. Phil, USA TODAY, Washington Post, Daily Mail ... just to name a few. So I missed Michael Knowles ... I am a liberal democrat and do not pay attention to CPAC. That's some shitty evidence of being "anti-trans". I've repeatedly said I am supportive of the Bostock Supreme Court decision, (businesses cannot discriminate based on sexual orientation or gender identity or gender non-conformity) of the Obama regulations that required schools to not discriminate against trans students, but did not allow males in female sports.

Tell me Dave, you know my story of being way out front addressing sexual abuse in Olympic sport, and what it cost me. Was I doing it to "boost my platform" then?

Tell me Dave, as survivor of a violent rape followed by horrific PTSD, should I have to get changed in front of a male, however they identify? If you think I should "be kind" – fuck you.

Should I teach my 17 year old daughters that they should suppress their inner-voice of danger when they see males in our changing rooms?

If so, you're a misogynist, a woman-hater... someone who isn't allowing women to have their own boundaries, to be safe, to have our own spaces, our own sports, our own ability to shine and be recognized for what we do. We say "NO."

Biology matters in very few places, and where it matters it is absolute. There is no other way to chop up a person to give females half the opportunities to win. Males do not have the right to compete in OUR sport categories.

And I'm beyond offended that you wouldn't contact me about it.

[thefernmanner]

"The Kosher Fish." From the Book of Sirach, "The Manner of the Fern" 26: 1-4.

The world has demonized women for reasons which no one understands. Evil made a mistake in the garden of Eden and both she and Adam were cast out, but the other women in the Torah did amazing things. This is how life works, girls are stupid with their whining and tangled hair and that stupid way they walk and talk, but eventually they become women and perfect their appearances and their work.

Every good wife or mother was once Eve, but got out of her habits, just as we should be doing virtually through the study of the Torah. Sirach calls the stage after Evil, "a good portion." There are therefore no reasons society should suppress or oppress women or slander them that is not acceptable:

The Joy of a Good Wife

26 Happy is the husband of a good wife; the number of his days will be doubled. 2 A courageous wife brings joy to her husband, and he will complete his years in peace. 3 A good wife is a good portion; she will be granted as a portion to the man who fears the Lord. 4 Whether rich or poor, his heart is content, and at all times his face is cheerful.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1-2: Happy is the husband of a good wife. The Number is 10102, קי‎ב‎ ‎, kibe, "a fire that should not go out."

"Kibe" (כבה) in Hebrew means "to extinguish" or "to go out," primarily used in reference to fire or a lamp being put out; it often appears in the negative form, signifying something that should not be extinguished. 

Key points about "kibe":

Root meaning: The verb "kibe" is related to the concept of extinguishing a flame.

Biblical usage: In the Bible, this word is frequently used to describe God's wrath as a consuming fire that cannot be extinguished.

Example: "The fire on the altar shall be kept burning on it. It shall not go out" (Leviticus 6:12-13). 

v. 3-4: A good wife is a good portion. The Number is 8433, חדגג‎ ‎, haddag, "know where to fish."

The secret, I think, is to choose persons and organizations with good habits. A boy who sits on his phone during a date is a no show in my opinion. A guy who gossips in church, one who says lewd things about himself or his sexual partners around others, one who stays out late and wakes up late, and shows up late is a loser. The same is true for organizations; churches that speak ill of social norms and feed political fervor against the grains of charity and amity these are also no good, they are not appropriate places to look for companionship.

I mentioned I went to a church I really liked, the music was medieval, the choir boys were all cute and sang like stars, my favorite, the ordinary mass was executed with perfection. But the rector was a huge gossip and had more than few problems on the side which he bred into the church community and this spoiled the whole lot of them. He and his partner put on a good show but they were January Sixers and avid Trump supporters, and you know what that means.

These things do not mix with good sense or the Gospels so I chose to drop my line elsewhere, hopefully I will catch a Kosher fish the next time.

A Kosher fish=356, שן‎ו‎, shannu, "both of us."

A non-Kosher fish=486, תףו‎, tephu, "pumice, porous rock" it holds nothing.