#it's called meeting people where they're at

[shouyuus]

very 18+, vi-shaped, modern underground fighter!au tw: in which vi uses a vibrating strap d1ldo and also fucks ur throat

popular underground fighter vi! x reader in which vi "soft launches" your relationship with this photo posted on instagram with clear red nail marks down her back and just the caption "post fight ritual 💋" and it's obvious that her knuckles are still bruised, but someone else made those marks on her back and they're definitely not from any fight she's ever been in.

and it's not like she's a stranger to people thirsting over her posts -- she kinda knows she's hot. or at least, she's been told enough times to know it empirically, but it still stuns her a little when she catches you staring, or when she sees the way your pupils literally dilate in her presence; it's not something that she grew up hearing, always being told that she's too tomboy or that she's not feminine enough, even though her own family never cared, and they've always supported her no matter how she wanted to dress or what she wanted to do.

you, though. she doesn't know how she got so lucky with you.

she might call it a chance meeting, but later on, you'd admit that you'd had your eye on her for weeks, thought she was so, so pretty, even with all her black eyeliner and her choppily cut hair (she does it herself; oh, you could tell? why? what gave it away? the weirdly uneven buzz or the fact that she totally missed a patch at the back of her head?), and you'd put yourself squarely in the line of her sight and hoped (prayed, really) that she'd notice you.

and notice you she did.

wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, leaning up against the bar of her favorite lesbian haunt, the one she goes to nine times outta ten after her fights, the adrenaline's still high, eating through her veins, the tattoo of her pulse pressing against her ribcage.

she'd pushed off the far wall and caged you in against the dark wood of the bar, turning her charm up to eleven and hoping against hope that she wasn't just imagining things when she saw your gaze run up and down the length of her body (she wasn't).

"hey pretty. thought you might wanna take a closer look."

you'd grinned then, caught someplace between bashful and triumphant.

"but... it's so dark and so... loud," you say, letting your hand linger on her shoulder even as you put up the very convincing front of uncertainty, the blatant tease of your words the only thing cueing her off that you were picking up what she was putting down.

"yeah? then... wanna go somewhere quiet where you can... take a better look in peace?"

vi's apartment, despite all the winnings from her fights, was a modest place, a small studio in the heart of the city, though the floor the ceiling windows are really what caught your eye that first time she brought you over.

that, and the giant mirror that covered the length of an entire wall opposite the windows.

"so i can check my form," vi says when you ask, running a tall glass under the tap water, holding it out to you afterwards.

and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting a hookup. and honestly, so had you. but somehow, the pair of you had just ended up curled on the couch, sitting face to face, sharing stories and laughing. the next you looked up, the pink of dawn was teasing across the far skyline and vi was frowning at the dying phone in her hand, her eyebrows hitched.

"holy shit... it's 6am."

you bury your face in the cushions of the couch, your hands still wrapped around a half-empty cup of spiked apple cider (a bottle of martinelli's at the back of her fridge, along with a half-empty thing of grey goose she'd found, tugging the cap out with her teeth), feeling the tiredness drag at your eyelids.

"oops... sorry," you grin sheepishly at her, "usually, when i keep people up all night, it's not like this."

vi laughs at your tired little innuendo, but her eyes soften when she catches you watching her. and for some stupid, unfathomable reason, she feels her cheeks heating up.

"yeah peaches. i figured. but... i don't mind being kept up like this."

your brows furrow even as a grin threatens your lips as she nudges you with her hand. you shift back, making room for her as she sits down in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off her skin.

beyond the windows, a brilliant sunrise is peering out over the city, and the sharp, shard-drawn light of it pierces vi's studio as she reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb and forefinger trailing the line of your cheek till she's coaxing your chin up towards her.

"peaches?" you ask, your breath a bit short.

"yeah," her eyes flicker towards the tiny little stud earrings you'd put in, truly miniscule peach-emojis that you'd picked to match the shade of your dress. and you laugh, the tiredness making the air around you both effervescent.

and that was the first of many nights you'd proceed to spend at vi's, though eventually, she does drag you forward to kiss you, her lips insistent against yours, with you pulling back to gasp -- "took you long enough --" against her only for her to sink her teeth into the bared skin of your neck, letting her fingers curl around the delicate pulse-point nestled there as she says --

"they say good things come to those who wait."

neither of you can truly pinpoint the moment where this... thing became something more. something that neither of you had the words or will to deny any longer.

it might've come up the first time vi pressed three fingers into your sopping cunt, her eyes fixed on the way your expression goes slack, how your hips kicked up at every curl of her expert fingers. or perhaps the first time you'd pushed her back and kissed a line down her front, lavished her body with your lips, teasing and nipping at her tits before making your slow, arduous way down to her clenching cunt, licking up the wet slit before latching your mouth around her clit and sucking hard enough for her eyes to roll out of her eye-sockets.

or maybe the first time she'd pulled out her bright pink strap, the base equipped with a vibrating function and an opposing dildo that hooked into vi's pussy as she rucked her hips into yours, fucking into you so hard that tears had creased in your lashes after she was done with you.

"fuck peaches -- you just look so good cumming on my cock, don't you?"

and that's all it takes these days, a smirk, a slap on the ass, and her voice saying peaches for you to feel your body clench over nothing, for your stomach to curl with heat, even if she's just coming over to press a kiss to your cheek or murmur against your skin, asking how your day went, though sometimes, you'd get shy and your voice would get a bit too quiet.

"c'mon, speak up, doll. and look at me when i'm talking to you, yeah?"

her fingers squeezing your jaw, just tight enough to make you gasp.

and no one questions it; bc why would they? her coach is ecstatic -- not like vi's ever been an unfocused fighter, but these days, she's in such tip-top form that he's not got much feedback for her after her long training sessions.

"whoever she is," vander says, grinning even as vi flushes and sighs (she knows it's useless to lie, vander's known her for way, way too long), "she's good for you."

he presses a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly, "and my advice? when you find a girl like that -- you grab on with both hands and you don't let go."

so that's what she does, and what she's still doing now. it's been months -- almost a full year since you've made it all "official", though neither of you have posted much about it online (her fans have been speculating for a while though, specially the hardcore ones, the ones who have been with her long enough to know her, to spot how she scans the crowd before and after every right, how her smile's just a bit different these days, how there seems to be one particular girl she's always winking at, always hidden in the shadows but she's always swiveling around the first thing after a fight, win or lose).

"f-fuck -- that's a good girl --" vi groans, her hips jerking against yours as she fucks you through your third orgasm of the night (she'd wone her fight that night -- as she does most nights -- and you'd come over to celebrate), your nails biting into the skin of her back, dragging down the expansive tattoo there.

she feels the burn in her own thighs, her arms flexing, the veins popping blue as she drags you down the length of the bed by your hips, fucking into you, her eyes trained on the sticky white ring at the base of her pink strap, the sight in and of itself enough to send her over the edge.

"c'mere -- open your mouth, peaches," she says, guiding you towards her even as she pulls out of you, a thick string of cum slicking off the head of her strap as she inches up the bed to position herself over your chest and shoulders.

you let your jaw fall slack, moaning thick as she presses the tip of her strap to your tongue. you blink up at her, lashes fluttering as she sinks her fingers into your hair, hissing out a long breath as you swallow around her length.

"sweet fuck that's hot..."

she pulls you over her cock in shallow thrusts, her breath growing quick as she watches the way you eagerly clean your own cum off of her with your tongue, the completely fucked out, blissed out look in your eyes as you look up at her, so utterly besotted and at her mercy.

her feels the coils twist in her gut seconds before she shoves you down over her, the combined sound of your gagging and the pinpoint vibrations of the dildo sending her right over the edge.

"shit, shit -- shit oh -- fuck... mm..."

her fingers fist in your hair as she jerks around the dildo end of the strap, tugging out of your mouth with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"such a good girl for me, hm?" she says, tugging you up for an open-mouthed kiss. you mewl against her lips, so soft, absolutely melting into her arms as she shifts the both of you into the center of the bed.

it's not till she goes to shower later, with you sound asleep in her mussed up blankets, that she sees the marks -- red and raised on her back, scratched over her tattoo. a soft smile lifts her lips as she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, her neck twisting over her shoulder to get a good look.

and before she knows it, she's grabbing her phone and turning around to snap a pic, with the full intent of keeping it just to show you in the morning but... well, she thinks as she stares down at the photo with a dopey sort of grin, her heart thudding dangerously close to her mouth.

maybe the best gift she could give you on your one-year anniversary is this -- telling the world that she's yours.

[kousanosgf]

men, minors dni

councilor!sevika x assistant!reader headcanons

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ getting together　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

i have too many thoughts about miss councilor sevika (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

◗ 　they get on each other's nervs at first. sevika is still too new for her position and the need to prove herself to the most of the council drives her insane, cause those fucks are hella dense. so she's constantly on the edge, trying to wiggle between mentally fighting for her people on the meetings and actually taking part in rebuilding of zaun. and sometimes (or a lot of times) sevika sees reader as just another nuisances and a person who's ready to judge her just because she's not from piltover

◗ 　reader on the other hand just can't comprehend sevika's nature. she was raised and worked for years in a more "higher context culture" if you can call it so, so she's shoked how straight to the point sevika is, often taking it as nothing but rudeness. reader also can't say much to sevika, since she can't make herself speak up, taught to be respecrful and obedient to her supiriors, leaving a lot of space to passive aggression

◗ 　 they're taking all the first places in the misunderstanding and miscommunication competition

◗ 　sevika hates how reader is set on the formal speech with her. "stop calling me councilor" "that's who you are" "yeah but you don't have to say it in every sentence, you sound like some wind-up toy" "okay, ma'am, I'll take you wish into account".

◗ 　she realises that reader calling her "ma'am" is worse but not for the same reasons

◗ 　 their relationship is very much about learning and understanding each other and those around you. mostly for reader, cause she was brought up with a mindset of zaunites being someone lesser. and even though she follows etiquette, trying to be polite and serve as a perfect assistant, cause her whole life she dreamed of working with someone who changes other people's lifes, or even being that person, she can be judgmental towards sevika, refusing to see her point of view properly

◗ 　 eventually they get closer and more comfortable with each other, which means reader drops her nice formal persona with her passive aggressiveness, and they actually menage to solve more problems while arguing and letting the steam out than just walking around on eggshells for days

◗ 　 that's when sevika starts fall for reader. it's like reader's mask slipped and she can finally see a real person and not a workaholic machine. she loves how both sassy and caring reader can be. their fights now end in laughter and omg they also can say sorry to each other

◗ 　 sevika insists on brining reader to any important event, where plus one is required. because reader helps her monitor her actions and gives helpful insides of other participants of course, not because she just wants to spend time with her, definitely not

◗ 　and reader is oblivious™. she's so happy, she finally doesn't hate her work and her and sevika can even be called friends, she doesn't notice any move sevika makes, simply thinking it's nothing but platonic gestures

◗ 　 eventually she snaps. "are you straight?" "what?" "i asked around, and people said you're into women. did they lie?" "n-no" "then what?" "what what?" "if it's just me you don't like you could've said so"

◗ 　 reader is of course shocked. she has to take couple of days off, embarrassed with how blind she was and to think the situation through

◗ 　 next time they meet reader refuses sevika, saying it's not right to have a romantic involvement with any colleague, especially not with your boss. sevika understands and agrees

◗ 　 well actually she doesn't. a compliment here, a touch there. sevika does nothing too provocative so reader can't say she's acting improper. but she's just playing a long game

◗ 　 and yes, it works. months of teasing ruins poor reader's morals. flustered and very much horny she tugs sevika into a kiss on just a normal tuesday in councilor's office

◗ they may or may not have sex right there they definitely do

—————————————————————————

kay, a bit messy. definitely gonna do part two or a full drubble with them later

[rambles-on-dragon-age]

The Veil Jumpers were founded by the Dalish but the Dalish aren't their only members. Did you skim past the literal intro to the Veil Jumpers when you were making your character? Arlathan Forest is riddled with reality warping magic and it's incredibly dangerous. They know it's incredibly dangerous and they risk their lives being there and exploring. There are still deeply mistrustful Dalish clans in the area re: the ones being massacred by the Evanuris that escaped that they're trying to help, that's just not the faction we meet. And if you forget, it is crawling with Tevinter Agents (the Venatori) as we have to fight them constantly.

I suggest you play the intro again because they don't meet Bellara and then walk into the bubble; they have already been in the bubble by time they meet Bellara. That's why her intro speech includes "hey, would love to go back with you to Veil Jumper camp, but we can't leave the bubble. Can walk in, cannot walk out. We are stuck." You comment on the funny fog you're walking through before you find her which is the "shell" of the bubble. You are already trapped in there with her, the resident expert, and probably only person that can free you. She has the upper hand in every respect and she knows it; she's just also, as a character, very open and curious and trusting through the rest of the game. You think it would be "more interesting" for her to act out of character and like she's still in a Dalish clan and doesn't like anyone she meets. You're projecting your personal desires at a character and situation that doesn't fit them. That's not the writer's fault, that's on you that you think all Dalish need to act the same. Then again, that gives you purchase to write all the fic you want to rewrite the scenes for your enjoyment.

Also, what proof would they give that they're from the Veil Jumpers besides the inside knowledge that Strife sent them (the name of their leader) because she's the best at elven magic (she is)? That stuff's probably not things that a massacring Venatori crew much cares about. Like what, a lil note from Strife that says "They're not evil." "Hey they're cool." "Trust me bro." or like a hall pass/badge that they give to their newest outsider friends? Arlathan forest has been long picked through of the best stuff and treasure hunters; what's left is incredibly dangerous and the Tevinter gits that try to steal it usually die in the process. Being a Veil Jumper is dangerous after all and the forest doing things it shouldn't is why the Veil Jumpers were founded.

And yes, you are missing the context. 10 years of in-world context apparently. Dragon Age is a mixed media franchise. There's an anthology of short stories, Tevinter Nights, that set up some of the factions and some of our companions and NPC friends and a four volume comic series, The Missing Collection, that details some of Varric and Harding's adventures before picking up Rook (that they picked up cause The Missing makes it obvious that Solas knows them too well and they need a new person that would throw him for a loop). You don't even have to buy them if you can't, you can find where people reupload them for free and share the download link. You can also read the wiki page and get a quick synopsis of each story instead if that's too much work. It'll give you a pretty good idea of the big themes and actions, though you'll miss the good little details. Dragon Age has never contained all of the story in the games. (see, setting up Celene and Briala and meeting Felassan in The Masked Empire or the fact that it's Fiona that's Alistair's mom and Duncan's old friend in The Calling.) Ruins of Reality (free as part of the Dragon Age Day celebration) shows Strife and Irelin getting involved with some of that dangerous awakening magic in Arlathan forest and can be safely viewed as a precursor to why they founded the Veil Jumpers. Between that short story and The Missing is when the group is founded.

But skipping all of that, we learned at the end of Trespasser that Solas was out in the world and has spent 10 years freeing slaves and spreading the news of his self and what he's working towards. He tells the Inquisitor much of the same information he's going to share with others when they catch up to him at the end of the game. Strife and Irelin are the ones that tell you the Evanuris were bad news when you meet them (Rook: OH joy I thought Solas was lying); safe to say, that means it's more likely to be common knowledge now between Solas and Morrigan running around then not. Bellara felt the fuckening happening with the Veil and the magic all starting back up again; it's an easy to accept explanation that that fuckening and the sky getting all weird a few days ago was Solas's ritual that went wrong and the gods busting out of their prison. Gods that they already know are bad news.

You're upset that the faction that welcomes anyone into their ranks with a common goal isn't acting like a Dalish clan when they are not a Dalish clan. It's not shallow writing, it's you getting an idea in your head of how you wanted their meeting to be and then calling it shallow writing.

We do, actually, see slavery in the slavery capital. Even though Neve tells us to our face in no uncertain terms that we are in the poorest part of the city and people here can't afford to have slaves. We walk through multiple homeless camps. There are people in cages and chains down by the docks. You have a mission to kill mercenaries capturing people to sell as slaves. You need to clean up the Blight in that tunnel under the Shadow Dragon hideout because that's a path they use to get slaves out of the city. There's notes about their other escape paths crumbling and needing work so they can keep going. "There's no slavery in Minrathous!!" you walked into a closet and asked why there's no toilet in this bathroom. There was slavery in Minrathous; they just didn't take us to the rich part of town and rub our faces in it to make sure people wouldn't miss it.

The Crows are putting on their best face to their new ally cause they would really really like help with their occupation problem. Crow!Rook and Lucanis have banters about how deadly and grueling and cruel their training was. Lucanis is the last of his family because of infighting slaughtering the rest. Illario straight sold him out to a blood mage, kills that blood mage before she can snitch, and then sells out the other crows and kidnaps/fakes the murder of his grandmother just because he wants to be first crow. There's more, I'm just not hunting it down. Someone else already compiled a post about all the banters showing the Crows are still a bloody problem. Again, the game didn't rub our faces in it so it's magically not there? It's there, it's just not in the limelight right now because of the whole "escaped gods trying to destroy the world" thing happening.

The factions themselves don't even interact until the final battle and only if you've helped them all. And things are kind of cut to the bone by then; it's do or die on a global scale. The cultural conflict does happen between your hired coworkers though. It's mostly in banter so you have to take the time to get to it (like most of the best details in these games tbh) but again not rubbing our faces in it doesn't mean it wasn't in the game.

Not everyone is super devout to their religion in real life either; we are in the North of Thedas instead of the South. Dorian never seemed as religious as the others, either. In fact he thinks they're going to think he's influencing you in terrible ways Inquisitor. Tevinter has never sounded as religious as the South seems and the South is where we've been. (Exluding Kirkwall, but they are operating like the Southern Chantry so it's safe to lump them in with Southern Chantry Behaviors.) How do you expect the writers to shoehorn the Black Divine into the game? Like, where would it have been appropriate? What would the Black Divine have to do with the little people and back alley factions we're working with here outside the Mourn Watch? Tevinter has long established that their Chantry is basically a figurehead and that the Magisterium is the ones that have the real power and do all the actual "work". We don't have any devout Chantry employed people like we have in past games, either, for them to bring it up and talk about it. *EDITING TO ADD A CORRECTION* It's no longer kind of hinted by conversations and codex entries, The Viper/Ashur is the Black Divine. We literally met the Black Divine and didn't even know it because they don't advertise it. Makes sense cause like if that's common knowledge then he'd probably be assassinated. But this man literally looked at the Magisterium, realized it was failing the people, and started an organization with one he could trust after they were stripped of their title to take direct action. Why couldn't he just give orders and do that as the Divine? Because as Divine he doesn't have political power here. Like. It was right there. He is actively among the little people as himself because his political self as Divine was powerless.

How would you expect them to arbitrarily shove in and retread the exact same stuff for a fourth time? EA set them up for an impossible task, repeatedly hamstrung them and their team, and they still produced a good game.

It felt shallow to you but it also sounds like you barely scratched the surface and didn't really bother taking the time to thoroughly explore what the game offered because you were so offended it wasn't what you, personally, wanted out of it. Which is fine, just say it's a bad game. But absolutely flying past what the game does have while you insist it doesn't have those very things?

a really cool part about dragon age veilguard is the first scene where you meet bellara, especially if you're a shadowdragon mage and you have neve with you

so to set the scene: bellara, the dalish elf who's devoted her life to the conservation, discovery and protection of her people's lost and ancient history, meets two strangers, two tevinter mages, in sacred arlathan. They tell her, hey your gods are back in the world but also they suck and we gotta kill them, and instead of telling them "fuck off you vile enslaving shem, you defile this land with your presence" like most normal dalish, not only does she instantly believe them that her gods are bad for some reason, they're back among the people and need to be stopped, she also happily starts telling them all kinds of secrets and valuable knowledge about ancient elven magic and is even so kind to, without question, take them on a grand tour of this very historically important and sacred ruin in arlathan to find a truly priceless artifact, a one of a kind archive of ancient elven knowledge thought lost forever, because really, what could these unknown tevinter mages possible want with that!

...

are these writers smoking crack?? is that it? theyre smoking crack??

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 14 (Joel x reader)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2000

Your mother was busy getting all the side dishes ready for the picnic while your dad packed coolers of beer, soda and water outside and prepped the grill.

“I'll bring these out,” you offered, repeating what felt like a thousand times, “What else do you need?”

You knew your mother had a thousand things to say, and maybe a hundred questions after that. Still, she remained cordial and attempted to seem normal on the surface. You knew by her tightly wound mannerisms that she wasn't even close to portraying that - at least not to you. She might've fooled a coliseum full of people with her mask, but not you.

When everything was set up and less than an hour remained until guests began to arrive, you tried to excuse yourself.

“Okay, I’m going to shower.” You scampered toward the stairs but your mother called you back.

Fuck. You had almost gotten up the stairs, but without stalling made your way back to where your mom stood in the kitchen.

“Do you need any more help?” You tried to butter her up a bit by offering your aid and pressing on a smile, but your mother wasn't having it.

“You need to consider what you're doing, (Y/N),” she warned, “I'm saying it for your own good.”

“Okay,” you halfheartedly agreed.

“I mean it,” your mother went on. “I honestly don't know what other advice to give you. He’s a man. He's married.”

“He's not with Cecille,” you insisted, “Do you really think I'd get involved with a married man? I mean, I guess legally he is but they haven't lived together for awhile and they're getting a legal divorce.”

“You're twenty-three.”

“And I'm able to date who I want to date,” you said without trying to sound confrontational. “Mom, I know on the surface this looks bad. But I'm going to feel this out and see where it goes. If I get my heart broken, it's on me. I have feelings for Joel and he has feelings for me. I’ll deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.”

She stared at you for a long moment before saying quietly. “Okay.” Her white flag was waving and, if nothing else, she was done fighting you on it - for the moment.

A temporary victory. You knew this meant your mother wasn't going to tell your father; not yet. And so you silently thanked her with a closed-mouth smile and took the stairs to take a shower.

***

The picnic had dragged. You checked your phone again and again and again. Joel, you guessed, was refraining from being the one to initiate conversation. You couldn't blame him, and you hoped that was all it was - him being cautious.

What if it's over? You wondered. What if that's it? What if all this scared him off?

Your anxiety got the best of you and you wandered around the side of your house to text him. Your thumbs danced on the screen as you asked how his day was going, if he got in touch with Tommy and if later was still good to meet up.

You chewed on your thumbnail and rounded back into the picnic. It was much to your relief that Cecille hadn't shown up. As the hours ticked by you grew more hopeful that she wouldn't swing by. Still, seeing her car in the driveway next door made your insides twist with a concoction of feelings.

Ding! Your phone sounded off and your head was pulled down like a magnet toward the screen.

Text me a time, Joel texted back to you, remember how to get to the fishing spot?

You typed back without hesitation: Yes. I'll let you know when I'm done here.

All you wanted was to be back with. You wanted to take in his body language, hear his words. You wanted to know that despite what had happened that morning, that everything was alright.

You glanced around the backyard at the scene you would have typically enjoyed. There was a four on four volleyball game going on, two people were playing cornhole, others were talking and laughing around the tables you'd helped your parents set up. Regardless of the smiles, the music, the laughter and the sun shining down on everyone, your smiles were forced and fake.

By the time the last of the guests were waving goodbye, you couldn't wait any longer.

Seven o'clock? You typed to Joel, while helping your parents clean up.

You folded a table in half and began lugging it toward the open bay of the garage. When your phone pinged, you set the table down on the driveway so you could check it.

I'm addicted, you acknowledged. Fuck.

Being head over heels for someone was more than you bargained for. You truly felt addicted to Joel Miller.

I'll be waiting, Joel wrote back.

His words out more pep in your step, and you hurried to lug in the cornhole boards and a second table. Inside, you helped your mother wrap up some of the leftovers and wipe down the countertops before finally hurrying to retrieve your keys and a backpack you prepared.

“Are you going to be home tonight?” Your mother asked. She held your gaze and you shook your head.

“I don't think so “ you told her honestly, “But I'll let you know for sure.” She added, “Is that alright?”

“Like you said, you're twenty-three.” She shrugged. “You can do whatever you want.” Your mother turned toward the sink. “Be careful. And text me.”

“I love you.”

She turned and met your gaze. Despite her outward, quiet concern for the situation she said honestly. “I love you, too.”

On a completely opposite and oblivious note, your father high-fived you by the front door as he entered after putting some things in the garage.

“See ya later, kiddo!”

You smiled to yourself, relieved by his nonchalant demeanor. “See ya later, Dad. Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

You were out the door a few seconds later, speeding off into the night to meet Joel at your secret location. You needed to see him in the worst way. Despite his agreement to meet, there was doubt that plagued the back of your mind.

What if, what if, what if…

Your foot hit the gas a little harder as you drove from back road to back road until the park came into view. You had to really think to remember a few of the last bends in the road but soon you recognized the wooded area that led down to the lake.

Where is he? Where is he?

Relief filled your core when you saw Joel’s truck in a small clearing. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you pulled up beside him. Joel turned from where he sat in the driver’s seat and he flung his door open almost immediately.

Oh, no, you thought. He has something to say.

Joel looked like a man on a mission. You prepared yourself for the worst. You prepared yourself for the heartache. The other shoe was about to drop. All of a sudden you were scared to get out of the car. Joel's face was too serious. If you just sat there then you wouldn't have to hear his let down.

Stop! You scolded yourself.

You popped open your door and let yourself as Joel rounded the front of your car.

Fuck, he looks good.

Joel was all you thought all about all day - not that that was anything new. He stared at you down with jeans a snug fitting white t-shirt. It hugged his rugged upper in all the right places and your former anxious thoughts were replaced far different ones.

“Hi,” you said to him, folding your hands in front of you.

Joel didn't immediately say anything. He appeared as if he was studying you. You were sure he was far better at it than you were.

He walked the rest of the way to you and you went to speak again.

“Joel, I-” You were cut off when he grabbed your face and kissed you firmly on the lips. You kissed him back, letting your guard down completely in his embrace. Almost immediately it grew heated. Your hands began to wander. He began to snake your shirt up over your head and before you knew it you were nearly naked in the bed of his truck with his body blanketing yours.

“Joel,” you finally choked out, “I want you.”

“I love you,” he voiced in a gruff whisper against your lips before devouring them once more.

“I love you,” you whimpered back. One of your legs hooked around his naked waist and Joel groaned into your mouth.

Everything about the moment was feral and raw and right. Being apart all day amidst the uncertainty and the angst made you needy for one another. As bad as you wanted Joel, you wondered if he wanted you more. It felt impossible, but the way he approached you that evening without even saying a word left you breathless.

Darkness had fully taken over the world when the two of you finished. Even long after your lovemaking was through, your lips touched, your hands explored one another and Joel kissed along your collarbone, neck and shoulders.

Being out in nature completely nude and basking in the afterglow of perhaps the most tender, emotional sex you had ever had was an experience you wouldn't soon forget.

“I was afraid you were going to break things off with me,” you said quietly, kissing Joel’s neck as he closed his eyes beside you.

“I could never do that.”

“Never?” You let your teeth graze his neck as you continued to kiss him there.

“Mmm..” Joel moaned out loud, “Never.”

Laying face-to-face you linked your arm up under his and rested your palm on his shoulder blade. You pulled him close and kissed him. There was no getting enough of Joel. You slipped your tongue past his lips and he eagerly reciprocated. As you made out you felt him harden again against your upper thigh.

“I want you again,” you practically begged, pulling him closer. “Please.” Your hand drifted down to his lower back and Joel rolled his body back on top of yours with your encouragement.

His kiss was smoldering. You pawed your arms around him and tangled a hand in his thick, dark hair. When Joel’s lips parted from yours he kissed down your neck to the tops of your breasts before separating himself from you.

“No,” you begged, pulling him back with a smile as your teeth caught your bottom lip.

Joel satisfied you with a sloppy, closed-mouth kiss. “I'm just reaching inside for some blankets,” he explained, whispering against your lips. Joel pried open the back window on his truck and grabbed a small stack of blankets from the back seat.

You adjusted so he could place a few down on the truck bed and then laid back down flat and pulled him back to you.

Your bodies connected immediately as his lips crashed back against yours. When your lips finally parted to take a breath, you gasped out the words, “Don't leave me.”

Why was this such a problem for you? Even Joel, himself, saying he would never leave wasn't convincing enough. You were too deep into it emotionally and it was making you a wreck inside.

Joel, patient as ever, brought his lips to your ear. “You're mine.” His teeth latched onto your ear lobe and he swirled his tongue around the area. “All mine.”

Your head dropped back in pleasure and you dug your fingers into his back.

New kink unlocked.

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[kwamiwayzz]

Jeckole Yapping

Had to dig through my old posts to find the template, but I'm bored and doing this again but for Jecka and Nicole this time. Mostly headcanons and such below

__

• When or if I started shipping it:

I'm going to be honest, but I don't remember. I only got into Co09 a few months ago. All I know is that once I watched the out of context videos on Class of '09 and Re-Up, I wanted more content of them and came across a lot of really good fanart and fanfic.

I think there were a lot of boxes checked off when I slowly went down the rabbit hole lol. There's an emotionally constipated dark-girl paired with a preppy blonde girl who acts as the former's foil. I think what really drew me into them, fanart aside, were the foils and parallels between them. The codependency, expanded upon by Progman, was probably the final nail that dragged me down the brainrot.

• My thoughts:

I've known about them for awhile, and thought they were some random white girls in a cult classic VN that somehow regained a surge of popularity last year. I didn't know the VN was relatively new, and most of the time when I do ship Jeckole, it's without the creator in mind. They have a certain flavor to them that hits in a way where I can't stop brainrotting over them.

Someone mentioned this in a fic comment, but they see them as foils when it comes to dealing with people and the world around them--where Nicole acts as this snarling animal that will bite you if you get too close, while Jecka acts as this wall that doesn't allow things to get to her even if it does bother her. In a way, they envy each other for that, and after reading that fic it reinforced why their dynamic is one that I gravitate towards compared to the others. They have pieces of each other that they're missing and they can't live without the other (I love codependent Jeckole).

• What makes me sad about them:

In-game, they probably wouldn't last after high school when they go their separate ways. As much as Nicole sees Jecka as a slightly more "special" person to her than most people at the school, their friendship is more for convenience--with Nicole finding Jecka to be more tolerable and cool compared to everyone else (along with the added bonus of not being a loner), and Jecka finding Nicole more fun to hang around with than all her other school friends despite knowing how much Nicole is a fucked up mess and bad influence. In-game Nicole is also someone who would continue to keep everyone at an arm's length and also wouldn't fight too hard (outside of the Jecka and counselor smoking scene) to maintain any meaningful relationships once they're out of her reach.

But also, who cares what the creator thinks because fanart and fanfic exists lmaoooooo.

• What makes me happy about them:

There's a scene in Flip Side where Nicole calls Jecka first thing in the morning at 7am asking her where McDonald's keeps their frozen patties, only for Jecka to say they don't have them because McD serves breakfast during those hours. Then Jecka calls Nicole stupid, and I just found that scene funny in an oddly comforting way.

Nicole is comfortable enough to bug Jecka and wake her up so early in the morning for something so mundane, while Jecka just stays on the phone listening to whatever antics she's in instead of hanging up immediately and going back to bed. I also mentioned this in another post, but someone on Twitter said the thing they love most about Jeckole is how Nicole was willing to get to know Jecka even after saying she has no desire to make any connections at her new school. It can be interpreted as a convenience thing on Nicole's end, but every route in the original game has her willing to either ask for Jecka's name or share her name when they first meet.

To me, their back and forth dynamic keeps them balanced enough to stay fucked up with the potential of becoming well-adjusted in the future.

• Things done in art/fic that annoys me:

There's a number of interpretations when it comes to the Co09 characters, so I understand it can be hard to write them. But for me personally, I'm not a fan of when Nicole is depicted as either way too nice and uncharacteristically soft or way too mean and following the stereotypical SBN interpretation that "Nicole doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything".

• Things I look for in art/fic:

When they're codependent :) or when they're codependent with a slight chance of them getting healthier over time. Also, just them being stupid together.

I'm also one of the few people (I haven't come across too many others yet) that seek out future Jeckole stuff. Whenever I picture them as adults, it's always aurawra21's art in mind.

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

I'm a monoshipper when it comes to Class of '09, so probably no one. It adds to that codependent flavor :) but if you want a real answer...

For Nicole, probably Emily.

For Jecka, probably Emily also.

• My happily ever after for them:

Moving out of their town, healing from their trauma, and getting healthier over time. Maybe they won't be better people exactly, but they'd at least be less fucked up and a little happier (with Nicole finding some will to keep living past 30) after cutting off their toxic families.

• What is their favorite activity?: 

Nicole forcing Jecka to watch Mythbusters and How It's Made with her (in exchange for watching Smallville and Charmed with Jecka). Also, probably smoking together, assuming that Jecka hasn't quit her smoking habit ten years later.

[heartfe1t]

    ❝    i'll definitely teach you a thing or two, mi amor.    ❞    smirk turns into a grin at mila's next words.    ❝    oh yeah? well i'll make a note of that. no waiting three days to call.    ❞    he pretends to write it down with a mock serious face.    ❝    i'm sure i'll see you sooner than later. i'm pretty back and forth even if i am away a lot this time of year. will always end up back in la.    ❞    

    ❝    yep- people know where i am for what days pretty much for a good half the year. but it's not all the time, and i'm not usually too worried about getting chased down unless something's going down. and hey- no baby mama drama like some of these guys    ❞    he jokes, a laugh as he brushes off the concern and the topic.    ❝    not like i've got anything to hide, but it is pretty weird, huh? even if the weird memes are what a finsta is for.    ❞    god she's cute when she giggles like that, scrunching up her nose. mila's sweet, he can already tell he likes where this is going and it's not even been an hour since they've met. the next bit is more straight up though, he's not teasing.    ❝    i'll give you a call tonight, mila. and i will definitely meet up with you for those pictures in a bit.    ❞    they're heading in different directions for now in a physical sense, but... he knows this is right where things are meant to go. and they won't be going in different directions for much longer.

❝     i'll     keep     that     in     mind     and     make     sure     to     send     you     all     the     puns     i   �� can     find.     ❞     she     teases,     batting     her     eyes     at     him.     ❝     yeah?     guess     you're     gonna     have     to     tell     me     all     the     baseball     metaphors     we     can     enjoy     together.     teach     me     a     thing     or     two.     i     bet     you're     a     good     teacher.     ❞     she     can't     remember     the     last     time     she'd     flirted     like     this     with     someone,     but     it     felt     so     nice.     ❝     and,     actually,     if     you     wanted     to     ditch     that     antiquated     waiting     three     days     before     you     call     a     girl     practice,     you     could     call     me     tonight     and     we     could     plan     to     get     together...     ❞

❝     yeah,     that     is     pretty     weird.     yours     is     a     lot     more     accurate     than     mine     is.     usually     people     are     just     updating     social     media     about     where     they     saw     me     or     they     know     i'm     filming     on     location     somewhere.     your     entire     schedule     is     out     there     for     anyone     to     see.     ❞     she     shakes     her     head,     a     little     baffled     by     what     a     sports     schedule     actually     means     for     the     players.     ❝     it     kinda     sucks     to     have     to     be     at     that     level     of     professionalism     and     even     your     social     media     accounts     have     to     be     presentable     and     polished.     sometimes     i     miss     silly     usernames     and     posting     stupid     memes.     ❞     she     giggles,     nose     scrunching     up     in     delight     s     she     looks     up     at     him.     ❝     i     mean...     i'm     not     opposed     to     the     dungeon     as     long     as     you're     there.     ❞     she     tells     him,     shrugging     her     shoulders.     she     was     almost     sure     she'd     follow     him     wherever     he     led     her     right     now     as     long     as     it     meant     they     were     still     together.     she     sighs,     nodding     her     head     in     agreement     with     him.     she     still     wasn't     ready     to     part,     but     she     knew     she     had     to     get     back.     ❝     yeah...     i'll     text     you,     or     you     can     call     me     tonight...     whatever     you     want.     ❞     or     maybe     she'd     call     him.     she     could     take     the     lead     if     she     needed     to.     she     just     wanted     to     keep     talking,     but     as     she     turns     to     leave     and     go     find     where     she's     supposed     to     be     right     now,     she     can't     help     but     take     another     look     over     her     shoulder     and     give     him     one     last     smile     before     she's     headed     back.

[pettybourgeoisblues]

just saw a post of a reddit screenshot about depression. don't want to reblog it because I want to be negative about it, which isn't really the vibe. But.

The post was the OP asking the question "does depression reveal the truth of reality?" like does living really just suck? and his full statement was cut off. The image was really just that of a comment where someone's like "no dumbass, your brain is literally broken."

But I'm not so sure about that. The other day I saw someone assert that suffering was the human condition. As usual, I first balked at those words but then considered it and agreed (In the past I would have just agreed, but without truly understanding). As someone who has struggled with depression, I do believe that life entails suffering, and that is the problem we are faced with. You can blame that on my brain, but its my brain. You can't deny my personal experience just cause my brain's a little fucked up.

So, dismissing the depressive mindset out of hand rubs me the wrong way. It conflicts with my worldview and experience. I have experienced immense suffering. Not so much materially mind you; thankfully I have a fair enough amount of privilege, but the levels of suffering my brain or mind has reached is ungodly. I cannot dismiss that. I have experienced it directly. I have looked at the world and seen the misery that takes place and has taken place and will take place and I have felt it, or at least as much as I possibly can and it is hell.

But I have also found its equal (or greater than), opposite, joy (note: this is the dichotomy of euphoria/dysphoria). Either greater than because there is actually more joy in the world, or, as I tend to believe, joy, by its very nature always overpowers sorrow. The smallest moment of great joy abolishes and makes worth the deepest sorrow, no matter how prolonged.

This is basically the implication of Nietzsche's demon of eternal return. The one that comes on the loneliest night and says that when you die, your life simply starts over again, but you can't do anything to change it. Do you wail and gnash your teeth at this curse, having experienced the deepest sorrow, rejecting life? Or do you hail this demon as a god, knowing you will experience great and greater joy, again and again and again, vowing to live a life worth living. To embrace convalescence, the great noontide, etc. etc. This is easy to do once you have experienced the greatest of joys.

Is it possible to experience sorrow just as deep to abolish joy? Yes. But again, that doesn't matter because it is temporary. Great joy is temporary too, but since joy will always be better than sorrow to us, that just doesn't matter. The mere fact that joy exists and we can experience it makes life worth living.

Theoretically, if someone was incapable of experiencing such joy, than their life would not be worth living. But I think at some point, anyone can. The post itself even points out that measures can be taken to relieve depression, affirming this.

I also take some issue with the total dismissal of a depressive worldview. By negating the statement "existence is bad" you are more or less asserting the opposite. It's not stated explicitly, but replying with "your brain is just broken and therefore your worldview is too", it at the very least is saying that "existence isn't bad;" you aren't supposed to feel that way, you are experiencing the world wrong, and you are wrong. But that doesn't automatically mean it is good, either. Feel free to call me a nihilist, but one should reject the absolutization of such value judgements. Existence merely is. We decide how we feel about it; those feelings are subjective. The real question is, which is the best judgement to make? I think the answer to that is clear.

So is existence bad? Is it good? It is neither and it is both. But the simple fact that it can be good is the only thing that matters, so focus on joy. This is the superior view. Depression doesn't give you the wrong answer per se, just the inferior one.

[wizardnuke]

i truly don't understand how people can get really into a fandom without seeing all/most of the material involved. how are you doinf that

[trans-axolotl]

What is harm reduction outreach? I saw you mention it in a post.

Sure!

So I do outreach through an org in my city that provides harm reduction services to people who use drugs and sex workers. We have specific areas of the city that we go to on specific days, and also do deliveries. We also do at least one overnight shift a week to be able to better provide services to sex workers. For outreach, we hand out safer use supplies including needles, sharps bins, tourniquets, cookers, sterile water, stems, Narcan, fentanyl test strips, condoms, lube, bad date sheets, wound care supplies, food, water, etc. We also try to help provide people referrals to services like HIV and Hep C care, share what resources in the city are trans friendly and how to navigate social services with the least bullshit, and also provide peer support and harm reduction education to help people have all the information they need to make choices, and help reduce risk.

It's really important to us that we are not acting like exploitative nonprofits that come in, hoard resources, and expect people to be grateful. outreach is pretty much done entirely by people who are also drug users and sex workers. We are also really involved in local advocacy--we participate in a decriminalization campaign, a drug users union, and a sex work advocacy coalition. and i think nonprofits and government attempts to coopt harm reduction are so fucked up and actively harmful--you can't do harm reduction without also fighting to abolish the oppressive systems that are targeting drug users and sex workers. we have a lot of ties to the community that we're doing harm reduction in--for most of us it just is our community + neighborhoods lmao, and we make sure that we're always getting feedback, respecting autonomy and consent, and building mutual relationships. we've been around for a while and do have a lot of community trust, but we always want to be making sure we're respecting what people want and need instead of coming in with ideas about what services + supplies they want.

anyway. harm reduction is so fucking important to me and it's not just like, something i do to like, build my resume or to try to "save people." i'm a former sex worker and when i first started doing sex work, i didn't have any information, community, or access to anything that would have helped me to be able to work safer. it fucked me up pretty bad and i survived a lot of violence. i wish so fucking badly i had all those things, and it's super important to me to try to build community, care for each other, resist fucked up systems and protect each other.

[standfucker]

not gonna lie yall, it feels like all I do is either work or recover from work and it's bumming me out big time

[sleep-safe]

*banging metal objects together*

if your patients don't understand what you tell them, you are not an adequate or effective healthcare provider !!!

[scorpius-rising]

Lotta liberals on this webbed site huh

[void-kissed]

My selfship with Aqua is about finding someone worth fitting in with and my selfship with Clio is about finding someone you don't have to fit in around

And yes I will elaborate (or try to, anyway)

[magentagalaxies]

i should go to sleep but my cat is lying at the end of my bed purring because she loves spending time near me and i want to be awake for this moment

[statusquoergo]

“Come on.”

“Uh?”

Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.

As if there's anything else to do today.

“I'm not going to the hospital.”

“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”

Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.

“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.

“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”

“You'll drop me.”

“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”

It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.

They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.

“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”

She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.

“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”

That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.

Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.

“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”

Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.

Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.

“You can sit on the bed.”

It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.

“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.

“Take off your shoes.”

Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.

Lucky, was it? It's about time.

The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.

“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.