#save me polites

[kindred-spirit-93]

polites be upon ye ft. baby duckling

what should i name le duck?

thank you to me for the idea. now stop procrastinating >:I

[dandylion-s]

Bastille was right. How am I gonna be an optimist about this. Also right about eh eho eho.

[lady-raziel]

I think that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s proven once again that it is easier for people to sacrifice their own vulnerable neighbors or tell them they wish those neighbors didn’t exist at all because it is easier to allow a man that represents the worst of humanity to have ultimate power than tolerate an imperfect woman who they believe is not appealing to them specifically.

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

Shen Yuan's life would have actually been far more difficult if he was the only transmigrator. Instead of airplane, he would have been dealing with an active and malicious spy who would not have hesitated to take advantage of him and his situation.

Either he believes the entire amnesia story or picks up that SY is an imposter. Maybe even both. He believes the amnesia first but then realizes something more is going on when he tries to take advantage of the so-called "amnesia."

Whatever the case, Shen Yuan's life would have gone from easy mode to medium or even outright hard.

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station

[icomefromthemountains]

YEASSSSS!!!!!!! !!!!!!

[razansharif1]

هكذا اصبحت حياتنا

This is how our lives became, after we lived in yes, we became living in tents of severe bombardment, cold and winter, our children became homeless from shelling, hunger and all kinds of bad life.

[vee-lociraptor]

playing isat in discord and right as i hit this scene @skitters-menacingly unmutes to go "hey vee trump almost got assassinated again"

[ofswordsandpens]

I rewatched Zuko and Azula's Agni Kai recently and it's left me wondering – when Zuko begins to goad Azula into striking him with lightning, was he making the decision to kill her?

Because had Azula shot lightning directly at him like he planned and not at Katara, the most forthright implication to me is that he was intending to strike Azula with her own lightning. And Azula, for all her mastery, would not have been able to counter that.

On the other hand, maybe he wasn't planning to kill her at all and was simply planning to redirect it elsewhere (similar to what he did with Ozai). But given the tone of tragedy throughout the Agni Kai, the fact that they both acknowledge that this fight will be "the end" to them, I don't think it's inaccurate to read Zuko's actions as him preparing to kill Azula, even though an Agni Kai doesn't have to end with death (and in canon it didn't). Also, why goad her into striking him with lightning if he wasn't planning on doing something intentional with it? If anything, it adds another layer to the tragedy to me, because I don't believe Zuko wants to kill her. And it stands in such contrast to the way that Azula desperately wants to kill him.

I also think that there would have even been something sadly poetic in that sort of demise for Azula should the Agni Kai had gone this direction: Azula, struck down by her preferred sub-skill. Azula, struck down by the very bolt of lightning that she intended to kill her brother with. Azula, struck down by her own power.

[hyacinthusmemorial]

Hope is the theme of today for quite a few reasons.

[mylittlecrow]

i will never shut up about jon promising to protect sansa in 6x09 and then the parallel of lyanna begging ned to promise to protect jon IN THE NEXT EPISODE. something something “if the day should ever come when your lord father was forced to chose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other what would he do?” and we KNOW ned picked love. ned loved his sister so much he lied to his king and bff to protect jon. ned loved his daughter so much he sacrificed his honor and duty to the realm and lied to protect sansa.

the writers intentionally put sansa at the center of jon and dany’s conflict. sansa’s not in king’s landing during the battle in 8x05 or 8x06 but she still haunts the narrative, her name is brought up by FOUR different characters. jon was ready to die if dany saw him as a threat to the throne. “i'm tired of fighting it’s all i've done since i left home.” and the only way to get through to him and to get him to fight again and to kill dany is to mention sansa and how she’ll never be safe with dany around. “if we don’t take back the north we’ll never be safe i want you to help me but i'll do it myself if i have to.”

and sansa is so used to being alone. she spent months waiting for robb to rescue her from king's landing, and it never happened. robb chose the north, his duty, over her. and she's beaten for the north's independence and then sold to two different families who stole the north from her. and then she finally finds help in theon and brienne and podrick but she doesn't feel completely safe again until she's in jon's arms. but even then she's still ready for more disappointment, to be separated from her family again because “life is not a song” and “there are no heroes.” but jon isn’t robb. “jon isn’t tormund. jon isn’t davos, or the red woman, or stannis for that matter. jon is jon.”

“where will you go? where will we go. i won’t ever let him touch you again. we need to trust each other. until i return the north is yours. touch my sister and i’ll kill you myself. what you did for her is the only reason i’m not killing you. i’m her family too. what about everyone else? what about the other people who think they know what’s good? i’ll protect you, i promise. no one can protect me, no one can protect anyone.” but jon proves her wrong, he can protect her. he will keep her safe. because when his day comes and he has to chose between love and duty, he chooses her. there still are heroes in her story and their story isn't over yet.

[hamletthedane]

y’all want a commune but you can’t even handle one (1) voting block lmao

[poseidon-you-loser]

Cursed!Odysseus EPIC au drabble

(Warning: Iittle bit of body horror ahead)

“Choose.”

“Choose?”

“Someone’s got to die today and you will get the final say. You?” Zeus leaned in next to his ear, sparks alight in his eyes.

Odysseus held his side, blinking away the salt of the sea.

“Or your crew?” Zeus backed away as his eyes darted to the cowering remainder of his fleet.

“Please don’t make me do this, don’t make me do this.” He pleaded. He was so tired from it all.

Zeus paused, awaiting his decision, and his eyes unblinking in only a way that a god could.

“Please anything else. Please.” He begged, his knees giving out as he collapsed in front of the king of gods.

Zeus stared at him, then a wicked grin filled his face. “Very well.”

He breathed, looking up. “What?”

“Let’s make it a game. I won’t kill anyone. Their fate will rest in your hands, King of Ithaca.”

Odysseus stared in shock. “I don’t follow.”

Zeus stretched out his hand. “Your last game was a wind bag. Let’s see how long you last holding back the monster you’ve become.”

Odysseus felt a pressure in the air, a charge similar to the feeling before a thunderstorm. It made the air suffocating and his breath hitched as he pressed harder on his stab wound.

“The rules are this: you will have safe passage home if you do not kill a single member of your crew. If they kill you or release you off the boat, you all die. Can you play this game, Odysseus?” Zeus continued speaking.

Odysseus squinted at the brightly shining god, knowing there was a catch. There was always a catch. But he knew looking at the god before him that he had no other option. From behind him, Odysseus heard Eurylochus take a step closer to him. “Captain?”

Ah, and here he was, captain of the ship again. Words spoken so hatefully by his second reverberated in his ears once more:

“If you want all the power you must take all the blame!”

He told himself that Eurylochus didn’t know better, he’d never had to be captain, to own up to his mistakes for the crew.

And it didn’t look like he would start now.

Odysseus met the eyes of the god, never acknowledging the presence of his second. “Yes.”

Zeus, hand still outstretched, twisted his wrist in a flash and lighting struck Odysseus so hard that he lost his breath.

He might’ve screamed, but he wasn’t sure if sound even escaped him or could even be heard in that moment.

He vaguely heard the cries of his remaining crew, Eurylochus the closest to him yelling for him.

The bright white surrounding him abruptly faded away and he gasped on the deck as the lightning tapered off.

“Captain?” Eurylochus kneeled down to him, hands hovering over his body.

“Let’s see if you and your crew can handle the monster you truly are, King of Ithaca.”

Zeus boomed over him and that’s when a shiver went down his spine.

“Wait-“ he gasped out as his right hand supporting his weight on the deck suddenly cracked loudly.

He bit his lip as he groaned out at the terrible pain. His hand started to distort and he saw claws break through his fingertips.

He realized what was happening in horror. “No wait-please-“ he pleaded until he was interrupted by his own cry of pain as the rest of his body cracked sickeningly as it took a new form.

Eurylochus backed away from him.

The laughter of the king of gods boomed as he stepped back from them, taking his leave.

“Remember this, even one man dies and you lose the game. I will not shelter you from the wrath of my brother any more.”

Odysseus would’ve tried to respond to the retreating god, but he was busy holding his ribs as they rearranged below his skin.

He gagged and dry heaved onto the deck of the ship, nothing to come up from their lack of meals.

The whole reason they were in this mess to begin with, he thought bitterly as his breaths rattled in his aching chest.

It was agony for his body to betray him like this, but not unsurprising when betrayal was the most intimate feeling this crew felt.

He let out a guttural sound as his hands became giant paws, his hands clawed, and that wasn’t the only pressing issue.

His back throbbed as dark wings sprouted next to his shoulder blades, blood spraying out as they emerged violently from inside of him and tore through his clothes. He gasped out a strangled sob, and his tailbone had become some twisted tail emerging from underneath his cloak.

He’d felt every change happen slowly and agonizingly, until he was a panting mess on the boards of the ship, nothing human left about him. He blinked open his eyes, aware that his headache and stab wound from the mutiny were unfortunately still present.

His stomach growled loudly. A burning hunger unlike anything he had experienced before lit up his insides.

They had starved for countless days, this shouldn’t be anything new, right?

Right?

The burning felt all consuming and he vaguely realized what this feeling was.

Bloodlust.

His eyes darted to focus on his surroundings. He was so hungry, so desperate for relief, and he whined low in his throat as he picked himself off the deck.

He stood, noticing that he was much larger than before.

Even Eurylochus and his giant sword seemed small.

Insignificant, he thought.

Food.

A fumbling but still solid step was taken before he realized what he was doing and all the remaining crew on deck had drawn their weapons and pointed them at him.

Oh. Oh no.

Odysseus stood frozen. He opened his mouth to speak, finding an assortment of teeth of large sizes taking up space there and preventing him from forming words.

They had taken such a precious commodity from him. Who was he, King of Ithaca, former champion of Athena, and known strategist without his mind and his words?

A beast. A monster.

He gasped back a sob, backing away from his crew as they stared on in horror at him.

He felt something shift inside him, a minuscule thing really, but enough for him to groan as he grabbed his ribs.

He looked down to see a part of his flesh briefly reverted back to human before changing back to the grotesque combination of mammalian fur and reptilian scales.

He blinked, shock fading and his brain picked back up to problem solve.

Was this not permanent? Could he revert back to himself?

His stomach growled again and the bloodlust clouded his eyes. He fought it so hard, arms locking over themselves in front of him.

“Captain?” Eurylochus called for him, and the uncertainty in his voice was one he’d not encountered many times before they left for home.

He’d moved abruptly, tail swinging wildly as he backed himself to the edge of the ship. He was too large to go below deck and wait this out. Zeus knew this well he was sure.

He tried to open his mouth and speak once more, but all that left his throat was a low rumbling growl that reverberated through his chest and vibrated the very boards beneath him.

The crew did not drop their weapons.

Odysseus couldn’t blame them. The bloodlust was near impossible to fight and he panted harshly as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Penelope. Think of Penelope.

His left hand cracked loudly and he groaned. Looking down, he saw it was shifting back to normal, shrinking and taking on the hue of his flesh.

Taking a deep breath, he kept thinking of Penelope, her smile and the way she laughed.

More cracks of bones, more groans and growls of pain, but he didn’t stop.

Penelope. He would return to her, no matter the cost.

The cracking took a different sound. He looked down to see it had halted and even reversed, and the hunger hit harder than before.

He fell onto the deck, claws yet again supporting him as he fought back more bloodlust. It was so intense he could see red on the edges of his vision.

No. What had caused this? He was thinking of Penelope. What harm could she cause? She was the only thing keeping him human.

Or.

No. His drive to be with her is what caused his monstrous actions in the first place.

Scylla could attest to that.

But he couldn’t bring himself to think any differently.

He would do anything to see her again.

Saliva dripped from his panting mouth, and huffs of air burst from him as he could only see red.

Penelope.

I must have her.

The cracking became louder, but this time, it was not making him human again.

He howled, pain and hunger and bloodlust making him sound like a true monster.

He rose to his feet, and he heard distorted cries of fear from his remaining crew.

Good.

The blood from his stab wound still bled, red staining the fur and scales on his side, and he opened his mouth to roar.

These men betrayed him. He wanted to go home so badly and they were in the way.

He would make it back to Penelope, no matter the cost.

He charged at the nearest crew member, dodging the sword slashing down at him as his claws punctured their shoulder.

He raised them up in the air, and his memory told him this was the one who’d stabbed him, wasn’t it?

He’d opened his mouth, ready to feast upon him when a slash down his back, between the wings lying there, made him roar and drop the man.

He turned to see a man with a large sword. His eyes shined with horrified shock. His second. His betrayer.

Eurylochus.

Odysseus widened his eyes.

Eurylochus.

He froze. This was his friend. His brother. These were his men, his crew. What was he doing?

Odysseus could hear the echoing laughter of the king of gods in his head.

They were never meant to win this.

An arrow slammed into his right shoulder.

Stumbling back, he brought his left hand up to break the arrow shaft off with a wounded growl.

Red tinged his vision again and he took a step forward towards the direction of the shot arrow.

A clanging sound diverted his attention and he looked over at the source.

Odysseus took deep breaths as he saw Eurylochus shout at the crew, his sword tossed to the ground beside him.

The crew lowered their weapons. They had stopped.

He noticed that he also had stopped.

The crashing waves around them and his harsh pants were the only sounds for a moment.

“Captain?” Eurylochus held out his hands and did something he’d never expected him to do.

He stepped closer.

“We don’t want to fight you, Captain. Look at all we’ve lost and all we’ve learned.”

Odysseus recoiled, the familiar words hitting him hard.

Eurylochus was right.

The cracking started up again and he hunched over with a groan.

Eurylochus was right.

They couldn’t afford to fight each other like this. It was all a part of these god games.

He wouldn’t play their game.

He’d play his.

“Come back to us, Captain.” Eurylochus held out his hand and Odysseus could swear he saw the shadow of Polites from behind him.

He blinked and it was gone.

“You can relax my friend.” The words echoed, said by the wind and his second in front of him.

A sob choked out from his chest as he’d collapsed on the deck, nearly human again.

“Captain!” He’d heard murmurs around him as he panted harshly, bones trying to arrange back to what they once were.

Some didn’t quite make it, as he felt the uncomfortable feeling of sitting on a tail and the wings lying limply to his sides. He felt his head fall back and heard a hollow thunk at the same time his head jerked with impact. A hand raised to inspect found horns as well upon his head and his ears were not the shape or location he was used to.

They twitched when he touched them.

Eyes closed, he sighed and groaned at the pains of his body, and flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, Captain.”

“Eurylochus.” Odysseus slurred the words, teeth too sharp and large in his mouth and the blood loss, wounds, and body transformation trauma catching up to him.

“Rest. I need supplies for his wounds. Now!” His second commanded from over his shoulder.

Shuffling and murmurs confirmed a few of the crew’s compliance.

“We will get through this.” Eurylochus spoke under his breath.

Odysseus groaned again as a hand reached for the arrow lodged in his shoulder.

“Nooooo,” he’d moaned, a low underlying growl vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, my friend.” A pause. A shaky inhale. “I’m so sorry.”

The arrow came out with one swift jerk.

He howled as his claws tore at the wood beneath him and his eyes shot open to see the stormy skies above him.

He would make it. They would make it. The gods would not win this game.

Part two is up now!

[introvert-slushie]

[moomeecore]

Hey guys. So I know we've all gotten some very bad news, and anyone with a conscience is deeply upset. But one of the things this means is that the situation in Palestine is even more urgent, because we know that while Kamala might have, Trump isn't going to listen to any calls to lessen America's support of violence in Palestine. So, I'm putting out my next fundraiser post a bit earlier than expected - I really, really encourage you all to read these and try to match at least one of my donations, and reblog if you can't. I wish you all the best.

Waleed Ayman Alanqar and family - vetted (#107) - The fundraiser is for Waleed, his wife Areej Haniyyeh, and their 3 year old son, Ayman. They were forced from their home almost a year ago. The fundraiser is to help them raise the money needed for the family of 3 to evacuate to Egypt. They have €1,606 raised of their €20,000 goal - only 8%! - so I'm donating a little more than the usual €5 (€7). Waleed's tumblr account is @ayman-waleed, if you want more info.

Alaa and family - vetted - Alaa and her husband were displaced from their home on October 7, while Alaa was pregnant. Alaa's husband died before their daughter was even born, and now Alaa is raising her baby without him, after having to give birth without the needed medical care. Because of the poor conditions, her daughter has been suffering from illness, including a viral stomach infection and histolytica worms. Alaa needs to pay for her daughter's medical treatments, and for milk and diapers which are very expensive in Palestine right now. They have $14,280 raised out of their $30,000 goal. Alaa's account(s), for more information: @alaa-gaza / @alaa-gaza223

Wafaa Abdul Karim Abu Al-Rish and family - vetted / vetted - The fundraiser is for Wafaa (@wafaaresh3) and her family, which includes her mother, her brother Mohi (@mohiy-gaza), her sister Fidaa (@fidaa-family2), and Fidaa's two children (Sila, who is two years old, and Mohamed, who is 6 months old). They also have a cat. They have been displaced more than 10 times. Wafaa's mother has chronic illness (hypertension), and is unable to access her medicine, which means her health is getting increasingly worse over time. The main goal of the fundraiser is to help the family evacuate to Egypt. Wafaa's fundraiser has $74,018 raised out of her $85,000 goal.

I'm going to post a second part with three more fundraisers soon!

Here's my previous fundraiser posts: Post 1, post 2, post 3

[troythecatfish]