#then at what point is the move just to get as many refugees into those pockets as possible

[jewish-kulindadromeus]

A friend asked what they can do to fight antisemitism, from the perspective of wanting to free Palestine and thinking that is a more pressing issue. My response was, I feel, good enough to repost here. Please read it:

"I think the main thing here is that these are not exclusive issues. Netanyahu wants more Jews to move to Israel for similar reasons; so he benefits from Jews feeling unsafe worldwide. Any feasible pro Palestine activism requires active and intentional anti-antisemitism

I also want to point out that Americans who do not have native ancestry or weren't brought here by force are settler colonialists, with much less of a claim to the land than any Jew has to the levant, and the genocide of native Americans is ongoing. Americans have more of a responsibility to land back at home, no matter how pressing the situation across the ocean is.

Another thing is that many countries are at fault for the plight of Palestinians, not just the USA and Israel, though that’s the dominant narrative. Many neighboring countries refuse to allow refugees or provide real help. Egypt especially deserves to be criticized.

Finally, and this is the hard part: our society (western) was built on a foundation of antisemitism. It goes back to ancient Egypt and Ancient Greece. This hatred is the dna that runs through Christianity and Islam because it is how they defined themselves and every country that is a majority people from those religions. Colonialism itself is a direct descendant of supercessionism from both religions, and racism directly grew out of the racial laws of Spain that came from the inquisition and the antisemitism that caused it. If you want to fix anything - including the situation in Palestine - you need to pay attention to antisemitism and fix it and work on it. The pro Palestine movements primary problem is its antisemitism - many slogans have either the direct or indirect meaning of “kill all Jews”, and serve as dogwhistles. And this goes beyond even that - the current waves of transphobia are intimately tied with antisemitism. The hatred that defines so much of our society was born of antisemitism.

If you want to fix anything, at all, you need to get at this root and pull it up. It’s hard, but it’s necessary. There’s a reason progressive movements keep falling short or outright failing, and it’s from ignoring the centrality of antisemitism."

And that's why you should care, even if it never seems particularly pressing. Which, for the record, it is pressing - if you can't tell, it's because you aren't Jewish.

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi (WC: 6.7k)

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

The first time you see Levi, whispered-about-thug and recently-enlisted Scout, you think he doesn’t seem as scary as everyone paints him to be. Sure, he has a hell of a glare, but that’s not the thing that sticks out.

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

How alone he looks, shadows like bruises under his eyes.

.

.

.

Levi is lost.

He’s not lost in the physical sense, of course.

Levi very well knows where he is. He has repeated these words to doctors so many times he’s starting to sound like a broken record: My name is Levi Ackerman. I come from Paradis Island. I live in Marley.

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

Rather, Levi is lost in the ways often described in novels. Those cheap-thrill books Erwin liked to read so much, the kind that ensured suspense and chest-clutching moments. Usually, it involved a character going on a journey and finding the thing they lost.

“It’s all a metaphor, you see?” Erwin once pointed out.

But Levi did not see the point of metaphors back then, and he certainly doesn’t get it now.

Levi was a soldier for most of his life: so that he could aid the fight against titans, so that Erwin’s vision to help humanity could come true, so that Hange would not be alone in shouldering the weight of it all, so that the world would not crumble under Eren’s actions.

Now, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, his body is changed, and his mind… well, that's the thing that’s lost, isn’t it? He’s still sane, he knows that, but… there's ways he feels himself slipping.

The first two years after the Rumbling were by far the hardest. There was so much to rebuild, so much to do. Levi spent most of his time in makeshift hospitals and infirmary tents. Refugees all around. People who had lost everything, who were in search of a new home, but who lacked the means to do so (Levi never thought he’d have to witness the sight of starving children all over again).

And then, one day, a new start.

Onyankopon was the one who discovered Mare a year ago. He told Levi that it would be the perfect place to retire from his soldiering days. "Mare," Onyankopon said, "is the town where sky meets the sea."

Levi isn’t sure what to make of that idiom; there’s no such thing as a place where sky and sea connect. Another metaphor, perhaps—another thing that flies right above his head.

But he decided to take Onyankopon's proposal there and then. Levi had been idle for far too long, and there was still fire in him, a will to push on.

To keep going, just as he had in the past.

A month later, Levi moved into his new home—a one-story cottage located by the edge of town, overlooking a cliff that descends into sandy shores. It is far enough from the crowds, just the way Levi likes it, while still remaining close to all necessities—just a ten minutes' walk from Onyankopon's home.

Levi's life, as it were, became ordinary. 

Because Levi now has a roof over his head. He has a garden, with a broken fence. A patio, where he watches sunsets. He gets money from Marley for his so-called war accomplishments (accomplishments is a strange word for murder, he thinks). He sees doctors, all kinds of doctors—specialists that didn't exist back on Paradis.

Despite this, his routines have stayed the same. Levi has always been a creature of habit, and that much hasn't changed in his new life.

There’s tea, for one. Despite all the special blends available in Marley, Levi still prefers the tea he drank back in the Underground, made from cheap black tea leaves. Piss water, Kenny used to call it, and maybe the old geezer had a point. The tea is bitter to its core, much too strong for most people to stomach (“I’m going to be on the shitter for days after this,” Hange once declared after trying it.). And yet, Levi likes it this way. 

There’s his knife, the one Kenny gave him decades ago. Levi still keeps it in his boot or tucked under his pillow. He doesn’t hold it out of sentimentality per say; Levi just doesn’t see the point of throwing it away.

As for other patterns in his life, Levi keeps busy. He sees his doctor on a weekly basis; he's taken a job at the local carpentry shop. He tries to improve his body on a daily basis, even when his mind fights him against it. His leg hurts some days; it’s at its worst when it rains. Over the last year, Levi's regained some of his mobility, enough that he can sometimes walk using a cane when his legs aren't too stiff, though most days, he uses a wheelchair. It frustrates him, sometimes, his reduced range of mobility—he misses pushing his body to the limit—but the physiotherapist ensures him that he is just where he needs to be. He feels coddled, and that annoys him.

Then, there are the people in his life. Scarce as they are, they are all that is left of his past and Levi clings onto scraps of conversation where he can find them.

Most of the brats of the 104th are living their own lives. Levi is relieved to see that. When the war ended, he worried that they would linger too much, but they never did. They moved on.

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place.

Onyankopon is another familiar face—a talkative one at that. Every time the man stops by Levi's house, he brings something new to show Levi. Sometimes, it feels like Onyankopon is on a personal mission to get Levi up to speed with the new world. Coffee, typewriters, vinyl players… there doesn’t seem to be a thing Onyankopon doesn’t want to show him.

All these machines are met with a somewhat lukewarm reception on Levi’s part.

All except one.

Because if there's one invention Levi is inclined to think is useful, even if a part of him equally loathes it, it's the telephone. Onyankopon was ecstatic about it, and his enthusiasm eventually rubbed off on him too. It's not that Levi likes to use it—the sound waves, the grated voices… they remind him of the sound of planes and machines, of war and guns, and that gets his heart palpating to the point where he sweats (because Levi’s learned that with his growing age, his body sweats faster than ever before, so much so that Levi sometimes has to wash twice a day).

But the first time Levi hears a familiar sound—your voice—on the receiving end of the telephone, his breath stops. His clammy fingers tighten around the phone, and he glances at Onyankopon, who only gives him a thumbs up in response, two dimples appearing on his lifted cheeks.

Levi decides then that the telephone might not be so bad after all.

“Levi,” your distorted voice sounds from the other side, “can you hear me?”

At first, Levi doesn’t know what to say. He’s seen phones, of course; he remembers Hange using them to communicate with Zeke and the Azumito clan. But he never thought he’d use them personally, and that makes his brain go blank.

“Shit, I think I lost you,” you say, the sound of crumbled papers resonating across the line, “Jean, I think the tele-thing you gave me isn’t working properly. Can you—”

“Hey.” Levi’s voice bleeds into the machine, rough like sandpaper. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I wasn’t using this correctly. Gee, isn’t this just unbelievable? Onyankopon promised me he’d work to set up a phone line in your house, I’m so glad it worked! I know these things are costly but, you know, at least we get to talk, even if it’s brief. Of course, I’ll still write you letters on top of that! And hey—Levi, are you still with me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. You’re the one going on a monologue.”

“I’m just excited! Can you blame me? I haven’t heard your voice in… a long time.”

Levi's heart stutters, your words pulling something in him. He’s all aware of how long it’s been (347 days, by his account).

“I can’t wait to see you next month,” you add in a lower voice, as if you were trying to whisper into the phone, words only meant for him to hear. “I’ve… missed you, 'Vi.”

Levi’s throat feels thick when he hears your familiar nickname for him. His mind buzzes with words, words he has long thought about, words he wishes he could tell you.

I’ve missed you too. I want to see you again. Please come back to me.

All things he thinks to himself, but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, he manages a breathy, “Mhm,” because more feels impossible right now, especially with Onkyankopon so close by.

“How are the brats doing?” Levi asks instead.

“Oh, they’re good! Armin cut his hair recently. He looks like a blonde mini-you or err… I suppose he’s taller than you now.” If you were standing by his side, Levi would definitely have glared at you. But you chuckle, oblivious to his souring mood. “Guess he always did admire you a lot; I think he’s learned a thing or two from your leadership style.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Doesn’t glare at everything that moves like you, though.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t lost your shitty sense of humor, I see.”

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

“But you always found me funny—I could always tell.”

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

“Anyway.” You huff with an indignant tone. “Aside from that, Reiner and Connie have changed a lot too! Reiner is still pining over Historia…”

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

“Yeah… weird, right? I keep telling him to move on, he’s got so much going for him now. But he’s hopeless like that, they all are. Besides that… well, Jean grew his hair! Think he’s secretly trying to impress someone. He’s applying pomade and everything.”

He hears the sound of muffled protest, “I am not, Doc,” blending with your sentence. It is followed by your hearty laugh as you seemingly tell Jean to scram.

“That aside, they’re all good. Growing into real adults, you know? It feels like yesterday I was doing their first medical checks... just stupid teenagers. Your old Levi squad, huh?”

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

“Yeah, sounds like they’re still a real handful,” Levi mutters.

You chuckle. A comfortable silence follows, one that reminds of old times—you and him sitting in front of the fireplace; him reading his reports, you drawing. The cracking of the phone lines almost sounds like splitting logs now, and Levi feels warmth spread from his lower belly to his torso.

He hears your breath through the phone, like you were leaning closer. “Hey, so… less than a month, yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

“Because if it’s too much, you can still say no.”

“Adler, I promised I’d take care of you all, and that’s gonna be the case until I’m buried below ground.”

“Don’t speak like that, Levi! It’s morbid.” Levi hears the sound of your laughter again. He wonders if your eyelids are crinkling, the way they always do when you laugh too loudly. “But, hey, thanks. I really appreciate your help, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder what it is like, your new life.”

“S’nothing special.”

“Sounds to me like you’re still selling yourself short.”

“And sounds like you’re still talking nonsense.”

After a year of not seeing each other, you are finally coming back to Marley.

You are finally coming back to him.

Levi wonders what you will think of all the ways he’s lost.

.

.

.

Section Commander Erwin Smith seeks you out in the infirmary one day. He tells you that there’s a wound he wants you to check, one he supposedly got during the last expedition.

“I have the new recruit’s file with me. You might have seen him around,” Erwin says as you inspect the wound. "His name is Levi."

In lieu of a response, you give him a nod, not thinking much of this passing comment. This is probably just patient small talk. 

You should have known better. Erwin Smith isn't a man known for triviality.  

“I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”  

You pause at Erwin's words, eyes shifting away from the stitches. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

Erwin leans back in his chair. “Levi's just lost his friends, and that's made his integration... complicated. He's flighty and hot-headed; he refuses to get a medical check. As it stands, that won't do—I need to know that his condition is stable to place him on my squad. I need him operational.”

“With all due respect, most of these duties you’ve listed fall outside my medical jurisdiction.”

“I know.”

You raise a brow. Erwin shoots you an eyeless smile. You finish the stitch. Erwin pulls his hand back, admiring your work, then shifts his focus back on you.

Waiting on your answer.

“I’ll... I'll see what I can do, sir.” 

Erwin stands, interlinking his arms to the back. “I should tell you he’s from the Underground. Will that be a problem?”

“No, sir…" You rise to your feet as well. "Though, knowing this, permission to speak my mind?”

“Please.”

“May I ask what’s so… special about him? If rumors are to be believed, you went through quite the trouble to get him out.”

“I didn’t think you listened to gossip, Dr Adler.”

“I don’t. But if that wound on your hand speaks for the labors of your efforts… well, I think I have cause to worry.”

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. “I believe Levi is one of a kind—that with him, we may be giving humanity a fighting chance.”

.

.

.

Today is the day.

The morning shines brightly over the little town of Mare, an endless cerulean that speaks of summer and new beginnings. The sun peaks over the horizon, lingering where the sky meets the sea, a ripple of lavender and peach glimmering over the reflection of the water.

At this time of the day, the wind is at its strongest, a breeze that blows the long strands of grass to one side. Beyond the valleys, there's footsteps dotted across white beaches, only to be ushered out of existence as the waves roll in.

Mare. This little town was nothing but fire and dust three years ago. Today, everything has changed. Houses have been rebuilt, trees replanted, and life has begun sprouting again.

Levi spent the first hours of the day cleaning his house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking for him nowadays. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt. But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready, and he's now driving Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

Levi grabs his favorite cane, an elegant stick made of dark wood from up north. For the occasion, he’s wearing his nicest navy suit, silver cuff-links, and a matching hat—a gift from you, something you bought him the day the Survey Corps first set foot in Marley. You thought it suited him and Levi’s inclined to agree: he doesn’t look half-bad.

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi denies. He's not nervous, not really. He just needs silence to gather his thoughts.

After a year of not seeing each other, he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely.

Will you be happy to see him?

It’s ridiculous, really, all this uncertainty. In all his years as a captain, Levi never stopped to linger on hesitations, on regrets. No matter what it was—grief, rough expeditions, political coups—he trusted his comrades, he trusted Erwin. Levi trusted himself.

That it would be you, now of all times, who makes him this agitated, seems a strange twist of fate. Perhaps it is his growing age that has turned him into a sentimental fool, perhaps it is the knowledge that it is you, perhaps it’s because Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of the uncertainty... but Levi feels restless.

It took Levi by surprise, your letter. Three months ago to the day. Can I stay with you, Levi? you'd written. Just for a little while, until I figure out what it is I want to do next.

You were gone for a year, helping the Alliance become delegates of peace. Now, Armin and the rest are ambassadors, and Levi no longer needs you letters—he gets to read all about their exploits in the newspaper.

And yet, you never stopped writing to him. Levi's glad of that.  

Following all of this, it was decided: of course you could stay with him. Yes, he would help you. When it came to you, there was little Levi wasn’t prepared to do.

And so, with Falco’s and Gabi’s help, he made sure everything was well-suited for your arrival. He got a bed, a night table, a wardrobe, a desk. All of it was arranged into the spare room in his house.

Levi remembers Gabi teasing him about it. “Is she your sweetheart, Mr Levi?”

Levi had just finished fastening a mirror to the wall when she said this; he scowled at the teenager. “No.”

“S’just, it’s an awful lot for an old comrade.”

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

But Gabi raised a point. What were you to him, exactly?

Levi doesn’t know the answer to that question, not exactly. He considers all the people he’s cared about in his life, and he still falls short in finding the right word to describe what you are. He cares for you, that much he knows—he’s cared for you for a long time. It isn’t the same care that he feels when he thinks of his mother, of Isabel, of Furlan, but it’s just as deep. Love, some might call it, but Levi has seldom witnessed it, so he doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

He supposes if he had to label what the two of you are, it’s connected. Remnants of an old system, a memory of a past when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls. Two survivors who carry the legacy of those who sacrificed themselves for the cause.

Not that defining it truly matters. Levi’s long accepted his role as the one to carry the torch. He has found stability and peace this way.

Only, Levi wants more for you... even if it means being far away from him.

Yes, it will have to mean being far from him, won’t it? He knows it will. And yet, it doesn’t stop that tiny wisp of something he sometimes feels in his heart at the thought of you—like air, it fills his lungs, begging to be ignited (if you would choose him, he thinks it might).

But Levi’s life was always that of water, and he fears he will drown you if you come too close. 

.

.

.

You glance at the injury on his forearm, gushing red. Those damn cadets, ganging up on the new recruit. Erwin’s gamble won’t pay off if everyone else is hostile to his new prodigy.

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours. It's the first time you're up close to him. His eyes are striking. Freezing gray, like pale moonlight.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice is deep, slightly grated, but not unpleasant. 

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain from now on, come to me directly, alright?”

"Please. Those cowards were outclassed. They only landed a hit 'cause they played dirty."

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help; it's important to take care of injuries before they worsen." A pause, one where you weigh each thought carefully. "That said... you also have my word. Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi glances at your hands for some reason— transfixed by the way you press on his wound with a clean cloth. “So, what are you, some kind of doctor? You heal people?”

Your lips tug into a half-smile. “I certainly try.”

.

.

.

The train groans as it comes to a stop. Levi knows you dislike trains; even on Paradis, when Hizuru helped to install train tracks across the island, you  blanched at the idea of riding in one.

So Levi isn’t too surprised to see you step out of the train carriage on wobbly feet. He takes a step forward, walking into the smoke hissing from the train, avoiding the throngs of travelers passing by. He removes his hat, just to make it easier for you to recognize him.

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

Levi could see your smile for the rest of his life and never tire of it. He hasn’t seen it in a long time, and it tugs at his heart, like a bird flapping its wings.

That you choose to run towards him—your travel bag swinging against your hip, arms dangling by your sides—is no great surprise. If there is something he knows about you, it is your never ending supply of excitement. It makes him want to smile back, but his mouth slightly parts instead.

“Levi,” is the first word that greets him, that swirls through the air and fills his lungs. You seem to catch yourself just a breath away from him, rooted to the spot in front of him. You dip your head down, coy amusement on your features. “It’s really you.”

Levi swallows loudly. He can hear his heartbeat climbing to his head, and he wonders if you somehow can hear it too.

“Your hair has grown,” you say. In the last month, Levi's only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow. “It looks good… it suits you.”

The coil in Levi’s stomach tightens. He shields his expression by tilting his head and placing his hat back on his head. 

“Hey, um…” 

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

His peripheral catches a crooked smile. “Would it be alright if…if I hugged you?”

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, he expected many things just not... that.

In his stupor, Levi can't think of the right words to say to you, so he manages a nod instead.

(He’s grateful you ask before you touch him—you always ask.)

And unlike your earlier display of excitement, full of frenetic energy, your hands treat him with more care. They interlace gently around his back. Levi feels his chest lock as your fragrance sweeps across his brain. The scent can only be described as one thing... Home. Levi grows stiff, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he just lets them dangle along his body. You stay put just for a few seconds longer, and when you break apart, there’s something akin to relief on your face.

(Relief for what, he doesn't know.)

Your hands briefly linger on his forearms. “Just needed to do that. My brain can’t make sense of the fact that you’re really standing in front of me. Like you’re not a figment of my imagination, you know?”

Levi’s gut reaction is to glance down. He doesn’t want to see all the ways you inspect him, all the ways he falls short of the portrait you have of him.

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself. “C’mon, we’ve been standing here long enough.”

“Alright,” you answer in a tone that’s no less bubbly than before. “Show me home.”

As you walk in tandem, away from the train tracks, Onyankopon comes to greet you. He envelops you into a hug where he lifts you off your feet. You chuckle, patting his shoulders, and when Onyankopon’s eyes find Levi’s, there’s a glint in them that Levi swears is speaking volumes of Onyankopon’s thoughts.

A look that seems to indicate: Should’ve hugged her properly, you damn fool.

Levi promptly ignores that look. Instead, he sets his glare in an altogether different direction.

The walk back towards the car is painful and slow. Levi tries not to let it show, but coming with his cane instead of his wheelchair really was not his brightest idea. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation shooting up in his leg; his knuckles turn white the more he leans on his cane.

You take notice.

“Is your leg hurting?” he hears you ask.

Levi dismisses your concern with a one shoulder shrug. “S’fine.”

It’s not fine. Levi overexerted himself with cleaning today. The sun is too strong. His leg is throbbing.

Despite that, Levi has no intentions of telling you all about that, because you have a tendency to care, to shower him with attention he doesn’t want, and right now, he just can’t deal with it.

You stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you sure? I can—”

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

Levi's ears are ringing as he steps past you. Shit—he didn’t mean to snap. Five minutes in, and he’s already screwing this up.

(It's like there's poison on his skin; Levi wants to peel it off.)

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind; you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead. From the corner of his eyes, he watches you purchase three lemonade bottles, a hand-out for this summer day. 

The drive back is filled with more words than the journey here. Onyankopon and you engage in easy conversation, talking about all manners of things—how the 104th brats are doing, how the world is looking three years after everything that transpired, how Onyankopon’s husband and family are faring.

Levi sits in the passenger seat next to Onyankopon while you sit in the rear. That doesn’t stop you from leaning forward, your hands resting on the head of the seats as you talk (“Put your seat belt on, Adler.” “It’s on!”). Occasionally, your fingers even tap his left shoulder, a heads up for you to point to interesting things you notice outside. Levi tries to ignore the sparking sensation that’s engraved in his skin.

(Sometimes, Levi wonders if your touch is actually electric.)

“What about you, Levi?” Levi feels your attention settle on the back of his head, drilling heat into his nape. “What do you make of your new home? Mare, the town where the sky meets the sea.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. “The townsfolk are nosy, you’ll fit right in.”

“Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.” You hum. “I’ve never started over. Not like this. I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

“That’s because you were a suicidal maniac, enrolling to save the lives of soldiers who’d soon be titan fodder. Normal civilians usually have safer aspirations, Adler.”

“I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, Ackerman.”

Levi huffs at that. The portrait that flashes through his mind is vivid, as were the words that went alongside them: Him, an ex-thug from the Underground and you, the crazy doctor. A pair of strange misfits, the Survey Corps' gamble in every sense of the word.

“Oh, Walls!” You’re gasping at something behind him, and Levi glances up to see what you’ve seen. It’s the sea—all shades of blue and as mesmerizing as ever. “This is where you’ve been living? Your descriptions in your letters do not do this place justice.”

“What? You expected me to turn into a poet?” Levi grumbles.

“No, but look at this—ugh! It’s everything. The valleys! The beaches! The bay! This feels just like…” you let your voice trail off, not finishing off your words, but Levi knows what you meant to say.

This feels just like the way it was when we first saw the sea.

And yeah, Levi sees your point. The sea here truly does glimmer like jewels, the way Armin always described it, and the breeze does carry that scent of salt that feels like it’s cleaning the air out of his lungs.

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

“This must be what paradise looks like,” you say.

And just as they pass a curve of the road, something new comes into view: between the soft clouds, a flying boat appears—not one carrying weapons, but instead, carrying with it the tale of a youth whose only sin was a passion for flying.

.

.

.

The medical check is done in silence.

Levi is underweight. His lack of sun exposure has left his skin and eyesight sensitive. You prescribe things to help, though you think some ailments might be a lifelong battle.

When it comes to checking his heart rate, however, that’s when you realize the full extent of Levi’s upbringing. Levi undoes his shirt and your eyes take in the cost of his survival—Levi’s torso, marred with scars. Some of them seem recent, while others are old, stretched-out skin that tells you enough.

These come straight from his childhood.

Just how much violence has Levi witnessed in a single lifetime?

.

.

.

“So?” Levi asks, looking directly at you. He leans his weight against the door’s frame leading to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can redecorate if you like.”

“Why would I do that? This is perfect.”

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated.

You continue to step around the furniture of your bedroom, inspecting it like you are discovering details of a new kingdom. Your fingers fumble over the bed frame. “These bed sheets are my favorite color.”

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

“There’s drawing supplies in the desk drawers,” he says.

He hears it then, the way you suck-in your breath, catching it in the back of your throat. He swerves his attention onto you, only to find you fixing the desk with a stupefied expression.

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

Why do you seem surprised? Isn’t this the least you deserve? Levi almost says that there is even more—that he has all your sketchbooks from Paradis, that they were recently delivered by his request. But he abstains from it. He thinks it might be too much right now, though whether it’s too much for him or for you, he’s not sure.

Instead, he just replies gruffly, “It was hard to forget.”

You take a step towards him, eyes softening. “Levi, thank you so much.” You gesture at the room. “For all of it.”

Somehow, those words make Levi want to look away. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate you expressing your gratitude, but he’s never known what to do with it served on a silver platter. He prefers to ignore it when he can.

“S’not a big deal.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing towards the carpet on the floor. “Couldn’t let you starve on the streets, now, could I?”

“Hah, I don’t know,” you say softly. You've moved to the windows, your fingers feeling the beige curtains. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

“Please. You wouldn’t last a day out there.”

You scoff at him, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“You’d want to help some poor fucker giving you puppy eyes, and they’d just end up mugging you.” Or worse.

“Well, alright. You got me there.” You glance away, raising your fingers to run along the scar on your cheek.

Levi follows your movements, studying the way your hands conceal your old injury. He wonders if it still hurts, if you forget it is there only to be reminded of its existence when you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The gentleness in your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

“No need to get emotional on me.” he mumbles.

You chuckle. “Still. Sometimes, it’s good to say things out loud.”

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door. 

But just as he’s about to head out, to leave you to unpack, there's a distinct sound that comes from the other side. Levi hears that familiar "Meow," before he sees the tabby cat sliding in between the cracks of the door.

“Oh..." you say, "what's this?” 

Right. Levi probably should have mentioned this minor detail in his letters.

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Yeah."

"Like a pet?"

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, tapping a rhythmic beat of five counts against his forearm. “Do you need to get your eyes checked or what?”

You ignore his surly attitude, the same bafflement still present in your tone. “And you named him Scout?”

“Her. She's a female cat.”

You look down at the cat for a moment, your eyes wide like saucers. Then, with a low, hushed tone, you let out a strangled, “Walls, you're a cat dad,” before pinching your lips tightly, like you were trying very hard not to burst out in fits of giggles.

Levi’s jaw instantly clenches. “Stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

“Yeah, alright, I was about to.” And then, as if saying those words out loud gave you the right to do as you please, you stifle out a snort, shooting up a hand to cover your half-contained laughter.

This time, Levi doesn’t bother hiding his glare.

Paying this interaction no mind, Scout looks at you with a quizzical stare, her big, green eyes taking you in. Just like you, the feline creature is now discovering the new room and the furniture that goes with it, and she now seems to want to understand what to make of the new occupant that is to share this space.

And so, with a last parting mrrp, the cat skitters towards you, her fast steps tiptoeing against the oaken floor. In response, you crouch down, outstretching a delicate hand in Scout's direction.

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement. Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digit.

A smile forms on your lips.

And when you look back up, there’s a sparkle in your eyes that makes Levi’s heart skip a beat. "Oh, she's cute," you coo, scratching Scout's chin. "How old is she?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"She didn't have an owner?"

"No, she was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

Levi had found the kitten half-dead under some debris less than three months ago; no one in town knew where she had come from, or how old she was. Most likely, her mother had abandoned her, but it was hard to know for sure.

All he knew is that the kitten had been alone, and that was enough for him to want to help the frail thing. Taking her in was only meant to be a temporary thing and yet, here she still was. 

"Well," you interrupt his thoughts, head tilting as you inspect Scout, "I reckon she can't be more than four months old."

Levi lets out a grunting sound, not really knowing enough about cats to refute or agree with your observations. Instead, he half-turns away, grumbling parting words, “I’m gonna make us some tea while you unpack.”

“Your bitter old tea, huh?”

He means to ask if you’d prefer something else, but it comes out all wrong, again. “Got a problem with that?”

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens. “Not at all. This feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat, turning away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

And he’s not the same man you once knew.

A/N: This story has been in the works for the last year, and it's been a very precious project for me. This fic seeks to shed some light on Levi's life after the war, with its ups and down - but ultimately, it's a story of love and healing <3 Furthermore, English isn't my mother tongue, so you know the spiel - don't hesitate to let me know if you spot mistakes, but pls be patient!

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

[rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world]

As a Jewish advocate for Palestinian rights, let me tell you something. I’m fucking hurting right now.

I hate Hamas because they have made the plight of Palestinians so much worse with their actions in that now even fewer people will be willing to acknowledge their 70 years of suffering.

I hate that they will be used as an excuse to demonize all Palestinians, and the US is already upping their already astronomical military funding for Israel.

I hate that they’ve committed unforgivable violence in the name of a cause that is just.

I hate the Israeli government and the IDF for creating the conditions for this tragedy and countless others stretching back to the Nakba.

I hate how they have perverted my culture into a settler-colonial ideology and perpetrated on the Palestinians the very kinds of pogroms my own family fled Europe to escape.

I hate that so many Jews in Israel and throughout the diaspora face ostracism from their communities and families for speaking out against the atrocities Israel has been committing against Palestinians.

I especially hate how many of my fellow Jews have bought into an ideology that can handwave the bulldozing of homes and schools, the imprisonment of children, the bombing of residential homes, the displacement, the massacres. Virtually all things we have suffered as Jews at points in our history.

My heart aches for the innocent people murdered across the board - no matter who the bombs came from. Even though part of me thinks settlers aren’t innocent, what can you really do if you just happened to be born there? And even if you moved to Israel, do you really deserve to die? No.

But neither do all the children in the Gaza Strip currently being bombed in a revenge attack that, with the denial of food, water, and medical aid, violates the Geneva convention.

But to everyone who is posting now about Israel and these “unprecedented tragedies” - yes, these are tragedies, and my heart is so heavy with them. But they are not unprecedented. Where were you when the same things were happening to Palestinians for decades upon decades? There’s a monumental amount of video evidence of atrocities against Palestinians, but somehow people have managed to miss all of that. If you’re only paying attention to the suffering of certain people, ask yourself why.

If you’re only now posting about “of course Palestinians should be free” in posts primarily about mourning the killing of Israelis, where were your voices before now? Those of us trying to organize and fight for Palestinian human rights could have used you.

If more people had spoken out against our government’s support of what Amnesty International and countless other human rights organizations have called an apartheid regime, who knows what could have been possible.

Edit: Since this is getting a little traction, I wanted to leave these links here. Both are very reputable organizations that are providing humanitarian aid:

[brehaaorgana]

i saw your post about the scammers trying to use current events to scam on tumblr, do you think you’d be able to break down what makes one a scam vs. a real request? i think thats smth not a lot of people know how to look for (esp when scams like the current one bank on you reacting with emotion or try to press some kind of fear of urgency onto you)

People are going to really hate this answer, but: the absolute safest way to avoid charity scams is to never give money to individual people you do not personally know and have not explicitly personally verified need those funds. The safest way to donate funds to a legitimate cause is to donate to verifiable charities who you have researched.

This is the old standard advice — and it was given loonnnggg before the current iteration of the conflict in Gaza. You cannot accidentally fall for a scam if you don't donate money to people you simply don't know.

"But what if they're real?"

They could be! Are you willing to lose that money to a scammer, and possibly put more of your finances and internet security at risk — when you could instead donate to a registered non-profit/NGO that you have researched their track record, and who can make the money go a LOT farther?

"sure, I'm willing to risk that money! This is important!"

Alright, so:

Do you trust the beneficiary middle man? PayPal, GoFundMe, etc do not allow for withdrawals in many countries. So if these servicers don't actually allow people to withdraw in their home country, do you trust a third party to make sure the money gets to these people? Are they trustworthy?

Even if they are trustworthy, do you know what currency is being sent or used? Is there a possibility of currency exchange rates and fees impacting how far your donation actually goes? Donating to an organized NGO/charity often helps relieve this issue! For Palestine specifically, keep in mind that they don't have their own unique national currency. So is this going to stay as USD? Israeli Shekels? Egyptian Pounds? Something else? (This article mentions how one fundraiser recipient only received less than 70% of the total raised due to GFM fees, and currency exchange fee inflation)

What, exactly, is the money actually going to be able to buy? Is it a bribe for another government extorting refugees? Is that bribe guaranteed to actually work? Or might they still be turned away AND lose all that money? Is it risking perpetuating crisis-inflation on the ground? What happens if there is nothing to buy?

The funds may have to be wired or money transferred eventually to the recipient. Does the infrastructure support these large wire transfers? What happens if a bank - at any point - freezes the wire, and seizes the funds for suspicious or possible criminal activity? They can do that, by the way, and in the US the bank doesn't have to give that money back. They could just cancel the wire, but retrying the same wire with slightly different info after the bank cancels for suspicious activity is not acceptable on the US side of things. For other conflicts, by the way, there are absolutely sanctions that would prevent wire transfers from the US from happening. And then, can cash even be withdrawn? Are local banks secure?

If it's not being wired to the recipient, how is the money getting to the recipient? If it's being used to pay for refugee extortion (which was absolutely what the Egyptian government was doing - extorting refugees) that's one thing. But if it's going to the recipient directly, how does it get there? Is someone delivering it personally? Crossing a border? Mail? Is there a reliable means to actually physically move currency to this location? How? Where? Does the fundraiser explain this at all?

What transparency and accountability are they offering at the end of a fundraiser?

These are the most basic things you have to know — how will this money actually make it to the right place and be useful? What will it be used for? If there's a blockade, then what? What happens to the money in the meantime? What if it's seized by opposing groups/governments/forces? What is the actual likelihood your money makes it to the right place without a reliable and known NGO/Non-profit with on the ground infrastructure helping? Do they have experience navigating the bureaucracy involved? What happens if it's stuck in limbo?

If you have thought through ALL of these things and still donate, that is an EDUCATED decision you are making!

There is a very good reason to prefer donating to existing, reputable charity organizations for your own financial safety and to ensure your money does what you want it to do!

These links detail how to avoid fraudulent charity orgs, how to research charities, and what charity/donation scam red flags to look out for:

Federal Trade Commission: How to Avoid a Scam

FTC: How to recognize and avoid phishing scams

FTC: Before Giving to a Charity

IRS: Beware of Fake Charities, Check Before Donating

Charity Navigator: Avoiding Charity Scams

FBI: Charity & Disaster Fraud

03.19.2024 FBI & IRS urge warning on illegal charities, donation scams.

PayPal Newsroom: Spot and Avoid Charity Scams

TN attorney general: Charity Scams (this is just one random state example)

FCC: Scam Charities will take your money and run

American Bankers Association: Charity Scams. NOTE this one literally says: "don't let anyone — Pressure you, call you selfish, or make you feel guilty about deciding whether to donate. "

GoFundMe: Recognizing online fraud schemes

Forbes: Israel-Gaza War Has Triggered More Charity Scams: Here’s 4 Ways To Avoid Getting Swindled

FTC: Safely donating in response to the Israel-Gaza crisis

Btw back on Nov 1st, 2023, Yahoo News UK reported: Scam warning: Gaza crisis appeals used to trick victims

Experts have uncovered $1.6m of fraudulent payments linked to the Israel-Gaza conflict as part of a rise in cryptocurrency scams.

Things that are red flags for scams/charity fraud per literally every US federal and financial professional resource:

Language used to create stress, fear, or shame if you do not donate

Language used to create urgency, or a pressing time limit — making you panic and less likely to calmly research

Requests for wire transfers, cryptocurrency, gift cards

Unsolicited requests for money, especially via text, messaging platforms/apps, email, or social media

Requests for money that have generic greetings or vague, non-identifying language. A lack of personalization in the address

Threats, name calling/verbal attacks, or repeated messages if not responded to quickly or at all

Lack of detailed information about how the money will be obtained and received, and how it will be used (for what purpose)

Requesting your personal information for any reason

Sending unprompted web links

[neil-gaiman]

“Two Minutes to Run”

Thank you. But (or maybe And). . . .

 “What will you take you?” is a question people think they can answer, but can’t until it happens.  It’s like being faced with the danger of death - some people freeze, some people run, some people laugh and charge. But you don’t know which you will do until faced with such danger. Same with the moment of fleeing. People don’t think, they react. 

Some people react practically. They grab official identification and jackets and water. 

Some people react sentimentally. They grab stuffed animals and photos and books.

Some people react frantically. They grab the coffee grinder and. . . .and. . . .time’s up. They have the coffee grinder. 

I am a professor of archaeology who studies diaspora and immigration and identity through the things people keep and collect and move with them. I have found bodies of refugees who have died along the US border fleeing to a better life. Many of my fellow archaeologists have too. And our graduate students - one who did an exhibit on the objects found in temporary camps and on the bodies of the dead.  So we know what people take, but we also know what people shed as they flee and it gets harder and harder and harder to stay alive. But you know what the bodies of those who didn’t make it almost always have on them? Identification. Sometimes in a pants pocket, sometimes sewn into a coat, sometimes grasped in their hands. A final plea. Do not forget who I am. Tell my family. 

My point? I don’t know. You are one of my few remaining living heroes, your writings have been a companion to me since I stole my ex-boyfriend’s Sandmans from him in 1990 when in college. And I know I am not special in this (well, the stealing of Sandmans maybe). Your words have a power that mine do not. Whether fiction or non. So I guess I just wanted you to have more information so you can continue to make the world an even better place. 

I guess that is my ask - continue to make the world a better place, which is response enough to my inquiry. 

Thank you for writing this.

[sugarlywhispers]

Yk that lava girl fix you made? I thought about how she can cover herself in lava..what if rain and water hurt her?

During fighting a super evil villain with bakugou (they're married) he starts speeding out rain and it injured her badly turning parts of her skin that was touched into sort of obsidian?

✨️these are really good questions that made me think of them for a few days so i could imagine the actual answers~

This is mostly what I took as inspiration for Y/N in this drabble:

Her body elevates in temperature to the point were you can see the lava running through her body, and her hair becomes complete lava, long locks or stings of lava she can use as weapon to capture things or villains (if the villain is something like those monsters of metal–she is not that heartless to burn people alive, even if they are villains).

Because she is basivally lava, the general answer is yes, Y/N can't fight in her lava form when it's raining. It actually hurts when her body transforms into obsidian–which is hard rock. I imagine that she becomes really good at fighting in her normal-human body so when this type of weather comes, she actually doesn't need to use her lava–if it's not for forming some kind of refugee or it's actually useful to help other heroes and civilians. She just stays on the helping civilians and rescue team during that kind of weather.

But I also imagined the first time Bakugou saw Y/N become obsidian because a villain threw water at her. He almost lost it when he heard your painful scream as you suddenly became rock. Like a statue, figure laying on the floor, hugging yourself in fetal position because of the pain. And nothing but simple rock.

He saw red. He went on a rampage, vengeance mode, so ready to tear and break and kill, that Deku and Red Riot had to interfere.

The villain was sent to the hospital, with custody of course. And Dynamight... he fell to his knees by your side, tears streaming down his face, body trembling with adrenaline and pain. You have told him water was your weakness, but he had never imagined it to this point. He didn't know it could kill you. He could have been more conscious, more careful of what villains crossed your path. He could have done so many things. He could–

The rock that surrounds you starts to break, the sound making everyone at the scene gasp as it moves. Bakugou doesn't understand what's happening...until it finally breaks completely and you emerge, taking a deep, long breath, in your normal form.

He watches you with big, wet eyes, almost not believing what he's seeing, as you say, "Fuck! Well that fucking hurt..."

People around start to clap and laugh because you're so... you.

And Bakugou feels... like he can breathe again. Like all that pain he felt seconds ago just dissipates in the air like the smoke that came from the rock breaking and making you born again, like a Phoenix rebirth from its ashes, so beautiful and so majestic.

He looks down and sobs, which immediately alerts the rest of the heroes and they start to pull everybody away from the scene.

"Oh, baby, I'm okay..." your arms surround his neck and he instantly reacts, hugging you back and hidding his face in your chest and neck.

Least to say, that image, Dynamight kneeling on the ground crying, with his wife comforting him, were the talk of the month. And what actually gave him the stop of Number One Pro Hero on the list for almost six months, until Deku beat him again with some other bullshit he did. But at this point, no one is concerned about the spots on that list. Dynamight and Deku go up and down between the first and second place all the time.

That is, until Y/N finally gets her breakthrough and wins first place for almost 5 years in a row.

And Bakugou can't shup up about how awesome his wife is.

[sha-brytols]

bethany and esther's relationship is also incredibly fucking arduous for. very good reason LOL esther's so cold to her. absent father but she's your older sister. when carver died there was this moment where bethany tried to talk to esther about it, and esther. emotionally closed off and of the belief she has to be the Strong One. just said "carver's dead. he won't come back if we just cry hard enough." and walked away.

esther also wouldn't let bethany do ANYTHING for those first couple years in kirkwall. in the red iron, esther's biggest rule was bethany waits outside while esther goes in and handles the business. business in hightown? too many templars. bethany stays home. esther does everything alone, but bethany has to do everything with esther. there's a point in a fic i never finished where bethany's just shopping for food across the street, and she realizes esther's tailing her. like she wasn't even being subtle about it LOL.

buuut come the expedition, bethany starts taking on a more independent role and that's partly because everyone around them was actually treating her like a person and not "hawke's charge". varric's a big part of this, because he recognizes how smart she is and how esther's stifling her and deliberately nudges situations so bethany's more involved. so esther sees how capable she is and also that she needs bethany just as much as bethany needs her. and this actually works. bethany's the one that does almost all the talking when they're tracking anders because it turns out "nice and polite" is way better for information-gathering than esther's whole "threaten everything that moves" routine. and not only that, but bethany demonstrating that she's a mage too is what convinced the darktown refugees to trust her and tell them about the healer.

and it's because of bethany's contribution that they're even able to get the money for the expedition. and throughout this whole process, bethany and esther finally get a chance to be sisters. esther stops treating bethany like she's fragile or a child and lets her make her own choices and bethany stops being so desperate for approval that she lets esther make all her decisions for her. they're finally friends. esther's proud of her and bethany's proud of herself and it's soooo great, and you know what? mother's wrong, you SHOULD come with us! you've done just as much work for this expedition as we have! for ONCE esther gives bethany her own agency instead of just dictating what she can or can't do.

and then bethany gets blighted ❤️ and she's dying. and she looks just like father did on his deathbed. and esther's whole brain is going a thousand miles an hour because bethany's dying and it's her fault. she let bethany get involved, she encouraged her to jump headfirst into danger, she wasn't ready. and she's so desperate to fix this mistake that she takes anders' suggestion without even considering bethany's input. it was a mistake letting bethany go with her. she has to make this right. so once again bethany has no say over her own future, esther just decides to hand her off to the wardens without even a second of thought and bethany. can't say no. because how selfish would it be to choose death when there's a way to avoid hurting your family?

and it's in the wardens that all of this slowly begins to sink in for bethany. this wasn't what she wanted. esther was so eager to be rid of her that she sent her away to the first solution she could think of. she wasn't even important enough to actually fight for. and she allowed this for years, always telling herself never to add to the burden her family carried by having a mage in their house. and for years esther made her feel like she was a liability. like her existence was a constant problem that esther had to manage and solve. she spent so much of her life in constant petrified fear of the templars that she didn't even realize her own sister was just a templar without the armor. a cage with a loving warden is still a cage. and in the end it didn't even matter because she was taken from that gilded prison anyways, only now she was alone in a much darker one where her life must now be spent in the pursuit of killing and being killed. and she's ANGRY.

bethany only writes to esther once (☝️) just to tell her she survived and nothing more. and then there's that moment, in the middle of the qunari invasion, when esther and bethany reunite. and esther's so relieved to see her and she's talking a mile a minute because so much has happened since she left.

"i need to tell you about mother—"

"i know."

"...you don't care?"

"mother's dead. she won't come back if we just cry hard enough."

and then bethany just leaves her standing in the street and walks away without saying goodbye and esther is. stunned. and it hurts because she knows bethany's all she has left and she's so cold, she's never been this cold. she's the one that's supposed to be strong in the face of hardship, but bethany doesn't even look sad. she's changed. it's all her fault for letting her get hurt. she's failed her. just like carver and mother. she can't even be there for the last family she has left.

[saranghae2207]

𝘓𝘖𝘕𝘎 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌, Mando x reader

Chapter III: Prison Break

Summary: After escaping the grasp of a menacing sex trafficker, Y/N accidentaly finds her way onto the Razor Crest

Masterlist

This series will follow the general storyline of The Mandalorian, starting between chapter 4 and 5. It is going to be a SLOW burn, that I can promise. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Descriptions of rape, sexual assault and forced sterilazation, sex traficking, kidnapping, canon typical violence, FMC! able bodied! MC, other than that there are no further descriptions of readers apearance other than that she is pretty.

"Oh my god, will you just stay still for one second!" you nearly hiss as the child moves his head about, arms flapping all over the place.

"Mando! Will you please tell this demon child to sit still!" you yell through the ship.

"Come on kid, open up," Mando says from the cockpit. The child grumbles before opening it's mouth. You stick the toothbrush in as fast as possible,

"Ah ha!" you cheer in your victory and start scrubbing at the childs teeth as it gurgles up at you.

You feel the ship slowing as it nears its destination, you don't have the chance to see were you are, concentrating on the child, but you just hope it's nowhere with sand.

Mando comes trudging down the ladder,

"You two stay here. I won't be gone for long." he says as the ramp opens to reveal a sort of engineerings port. You hum in reply, pulling the child up to the basin in the fresher, telling him to spit!

You rinse off his toothbrush and gently set him down before climbing up to the cockpit. You look out the windows, taking in were you are, and luckily for you, you don't see a single grain of sand. There are workers, mostly human ones, grumbling around, working on ships and other projects. You see Mando talking to an old looking man with a large beard, must be Ran, you think. They're walking off, still talking when your attention is pulled to the child who's cooing. You slip your eyes from the two men and go back down the ladder, picking up a toy and the child. Plopping down in the space, you make the toy kiss the child on the cheek, which delights him terrifically as he grabs at it.

The two stick toys are just about to have their marriage ceremony when the ramp opens. Mando enters followed by a bug headed droid.

"Mando I don't think we have room for a fourth," you say,

"We need the Razor Crest for a job, he's coming to check out the programming."

"A job? How many others?"

He seems to think for a moment, then says,

"Three, they're a little rough, but don't worry, just ignore them. I'll be here, okay?" you nod, looking at where the droid is climbing up to the cockpit.

"Don't break anything!" Mando yells up at it,

"I thought you hated droids?" you ask. Mando simply answers with a shrug of the shoulders and leaves back down the ramp. You look back up the ladder, but get distracted when the childs hand paws at yours and you resume the marriage cermony.

You hear the droid beeping at things upstairs, naming everything monotonously. You're starting to understand why Mando hates them so much.

After a while the droid comes back down and, ignoring you and the child, goes down the ramp to report on what a shit ship you have.

A moment later you almost have a heart attack when you see a Devaronian entering the ship,

"What have we got here?" he asks menacingly, you still can't get used to there devilish look. You decide not to answer, when a bald human and Twi'lek enter.

The Twi'lek looks at you with eyes that slowly go manic and in a moment she's all up in your face. You grab the child, holding it tightly against your chest, keeping eye contact with the purple lady.

"What are you?" she asks almost savagely,

"Stay away from those two." you hear Mando say,

"You get lonely up here Mando?" the bald man asks mockingly, he points to you, the kid and then to Mando,

"You two make that thing?"

"There just some refugees I'm transporting. Just ignore them. Xi'an, I said just ignore them."

The purple Twi'lek, Xi'an apparently, hisses at you at then turns to Mando.

"Didn't think you'd be able to move on from me. so easily"

"I told you, they're refugees," Mando says.

All eyes are on the two of you, you shift uncomfortably.

"Didn't take you for the type to smuggle, guess that code of yours must have softened you," Xi'an giggles wickedly, then turns her face to you, a tinge of something akin to jealousy coming over her face.

"Interesting pair." the bald man says, "Where you two from?"

"That's not important," Mando's voice grows more stern. The bald man looks at him, laughing a bit, then jerks out towards the two of you. You grip tighter at the child, Mando flinches, reaching out. The bald man cackles then raises his hands up.

"All right,"

You hate this, these strangers. Xi'an is still glaring at you menacingly, you hope she doesn't try to bite, though she does seem like the type to try.

"Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." the Devaronian says

"Well apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say." the bald man says

"Then why are they all dead?" asks the Devaronian, which sends a gaggle of laughs through the ship. You stay quiet, grimacing while looking at Mando, who stands there silently.

"Well you flew with him Xi'an. Is he as good as they say?" the bald man asks.

Xi'an finally looks away from you, "Ask him about the job on Alzoc III."

You all look to Mando, "I did what I had to," he says, you furrow your brows,

Xi'an scoffs "Oh but you liked it," Mando looks at her as she continues, "See I know who you really are."

"He never takes off the helmet?" the bald man asks

Xi'an shakes her head with a giggle and then mimics his low voice "This is the way," she hiccups another laugh and you can't help but cringe.

"Huh," the bald man looks at Mando "I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he's a Gungan, is that why 'yousa don't wanna show your face?'"

The others roar with laughter, you and Mando stay silent, the child coos sadly.

"You ever seen his face," the man asks Xi'an,

She grins brightly, pulling at one of her head tails, glancing at you,

"A lady never tells,"

"Aw come on Mando," Baldi says "We all gotta trust each other here, you gotta show us something. Come on, just lift the helmet up."

The Devaronian stands, you flinch ever so slightly, looking to Mando with a worried glance,

"Come on, let us all see your eyes," Baldi smirks,

"I'll do it," says the Devaronian and reaches out to Mando. You jump up as the two start to tussle.

It's then that the droids voice is heard,

"Dropping out of hyperspace now."

The two get away from one another as the ship jerks and everybody stumbles.

"Commencing final approach, now. Cloaking signal, now."

You all tumble around, you hold on tightly to the child, protecting it from harm.

"Engaging coupling, now" the droid continues and you really wish you could punch it in the face.

The ship finally jults to a halt,

"Coupling confirmed, we are down."

You get up, arms still tightly wound around the child as Mando comes to check on it.

"And relax. Commence extraction now,"

"That useless droid didn't even give us a proper countdown." Xi'an hisses as the Devaronian throws two large boxes.

"Z, you sure they can't see us?" baldi asks,

"The razor crest is rounding our signature and I'm inside the prison system. It's impressive that this gunship has survived the empire without being impounded." as the droid is saying this, Mando looks to you and the kid,

"What's all this about prison and the empire?" you ask grumpily, not in the mood for another chaotic escapade,

"It's a quick mission, we'll get back once we've got the asset, you just stay here with the kid."

You're unsure about this whole thing, side eyeing the others suspiciously. You look back at Mando and curtly nod.

"All right, we got a job to do, Mando your up." baldi says,

Mando turns to the hatch, opening it up.

The four of them gather around, Mando holding a beeping device that goes from red to green. The opening forms to the ship and the three look at Baldi,

"It's me?" he asks

"Always you," says the Devaronian.

Baldi grumbles a bit before popping down the hatch, followed by the other two. Mando sends a last glance to you and the child, you lamely hold up a waving hand before he jumps down to join them.

You sigh, looking down at the child who's also holding up a waving hand, before looking up at you.

"Now we wait," you grumble, the kid coos in answer, pointing to the two toys that had been abandoned on the floor. You smile, grabbing them up and continuing the play pretend.

++++++++

It had been a while since the four had left and you were starting to get skittish, though you were trying to keep it together for the child.

You look up the ladder to the cockpit were the bug droid is buzzing on about directions. You felt an uneasy sensation in your stomach, you really didn't like, or trust, these people.

You look back down at the child, who also doesn't seem particularly at ease. You grimace.

"It seems your prescence has been detected. Redirecting security alert away from your position." the droid says above.

"Is everything alright?" you ask up at it,

"In order fo me to concentrate on the current mission, I will have to ask you to refrain from further distraction." the droid answers curtly.

You roll your eyes, letting out an annoyed groan as you and the child plop down at Mando's cot.

The child looks at you, worried as you're looking at the still open hatch. Vague noises rising from it that you can't make out. You shuffle a bit.

"Zero to Mayfeld, zero to Mayfeld, I've detected a distress signal homing in on your location."

What?

"What!"

You stand up and go up the ladder where the droid continues,

"You have approximately twent minutes."

Shit, shit, shit.

"If I could ask you to leave the cockpit-" the droid starts,

"Yeah, yeah I get it," you say, looking down at the child who whines at you.

You jump down the ladder and gather his toys, plopping them beside him, he coos at you questioningly.

"Just in case," you shrug, going to the storage pack and pulling out a bag of pre-chopped meiloorun. You plop it next to him before climbing back up the ladder.

You peak your head through, the droid is tapping at some buttons, saying,

"You have 15 mintues remaining."

"Come on, come on, open it up!" you hear Baldi yell over the intercom.

You heart is already beating a bit heavier than usual, but it goes into overdrive when you hear a commotion over the intercom, a grunt from Mando,

"Attack's on the way, he's already dead meat. Let's go." Baldi says.

Your breathing chokes up a moment, you had a feeling something like this was going to happen.

You go back down the ladder and run to the child, pulling Mando's blanket around him.

"I've gotta go save your dad, okay? If anyone opens this up, hide, okay?" the child nods and you peck it's forhead before pushing the button to close the cott.

You run to grab a blaster and then go to the hatch, poking your head through it.

You look around, it's all white and minimal space, there doesn't seem to be anyone around.

You jump down, without really much of a plan except to find Mando. When up in the cockpit, you had seen the map for the ship, a light blinking at where the prisoners cell was. They must've locked him in there.

You start running down the hallways, ears wide open in case you hear anyone coming.

You here droids footsteps and flick behind a wall, holding in your breath as it passes you. You sigh, craning your head to check the coast, it's clear.

You're now nearing the prison cells, looking into each, trying to spot Mando. You pass a growling zabrak, a chevin banging loudly against it's cell door.

"Yun," you hear from behind you. Relief pools through you when you see Mando standing behind the cell,

"Mando!" you run up to it,

"You see the black rectangle in the middle of the door?"

"Uh huh,"

"Shoot at it with your blaster,"

You nod, stepping away, holding up your blaster to it. You shoot, stumbling over slightly, looking back to see a shot right beside it. You shoot again,

"I thought you knew how to use a kriffin' blaster," Mando growls annoyed,

"I kinda do, I'm just good at it."

You shoot at it again and again until electricity flies all over the place and the door opens.

"See," you say,

Mando runs out,

"Where's the kid?"

"In the cot, he's got food and water, I told him to hide in the cubby if anyone opens it."

Mando nods, looks down the hall,

"Come." he says, running.

You follow him down the hallways, holding out the blaster in case you bump into any other droids.

You two make it to what seems to be a control room, Mando lowers his blaster and it's then that you notice the dead man lying on the floor.

"What happened to him?" you ask,

"Xi'an." Mando replies as he looks at one of the screens. He pushes at a few buttons and a loud groan is heard in the ship, the lights flickering and turning read.

On the screens you see panels falling down to block most of the exits.

"You gonna try and kill them?" you ask Mando, he's looking at the screens where you see Xi'an and the Devarionian splitting up. The Devaronian coming your way. He then looks at you,

"Not particularly,"

You huff as he crouches down beside the dead man, picking up a white, remote looking thing that's blinking red and pocketing it.

He then looks at you,

"You probably don't know how to use a thwarper?"

"What's that?"

He shoots out a thin looking rope to the other side of the room, it seamlesly wraps around a controler and with a tug from Mando, gets pulled clean off the wall.

"Ah, like a mini grapling hook," you nod,

"Sure," he looks up at the railed ceiling that looks up into a small lit area, "Can you get up there?"

You look up and shrug, "Sure,"

"Alright, heres the plan; I hide behind that compartement over there, you're up there. When he comes in, you shoot the thwarper down at him as a distraction and I take him out."

You nod as he hands you the thwarper. You roll the stool over, him holding it stable as you get on it and stretch your arms towards the ceiling, shifting a panel to the side.

"Mind helping me out?" you ask as your fingers grip at the ridges. Mando hesitates a moment before gripping one of your shoes to help you get up.

Your hands are grabbing at the ceiling, pulling your weight up when you wobble a bit. Mandos hand shoots to your hip and the touch feels like a shock.

You ignore this, pulling yourself all the way up and sliding the panel back. You see Mando pushing the stool back and crouching into the compartement. You hold out the thwarper, waiting with bated breath for the Devarionian to arrive.

The spot on your hip where Mandos hand had touched burns, you don't know why exactly, before realizing this is surprisingly enough the first time Mando has touched you since the time when he first found you on his ship. And you had been living with him for almost a week now, which isn't much time, but considering you lived together on that cramped little ship, it's impressive how well you've avoided too close contact.

You then hear the Devaronians heavy footsteps nearing the control room and tense up a bit, praying he won't look up.

You see him beneath you, holding out his blaster while looking around,

"Where are you, little mouse," he grumbles, lowering his blaster. You take the shot, it wraps around his neck tightly as he let's out a surprised grunt, looking up at you. You pull hard as Mando jumps from his hiding spot, shooting at his arm.

The Devaronian, goes to punch at Mando, who shoots tiny pews at him.

The Devaronian shakes around trying to free himself from your ever tightening grip before tugging hard on the rope, causing you to crash down the ceiling, yelping as you fall. The Devaronian falls to the floor beside you and Mando shoots a blast at his leg which causes him to howl before reaching out to Mando and pushing him the controls.

You ignore the pain in your everything and point the thwarper back at the Devaronian, who gets caught off guard, pulling at his neck as Mando shoots fire from his armour at the Devaronians face, a feature that you'll have to ask him about later.

The Devaronian doesn't react to the fire, simply cackling as he again pull on the thwarper. You let go of it in time and jump at him, sticking the butt of your blaster against his head as hard as you can which surprisingly seems to weaken him a moment.

Mando shoves him against the opening of the room, throwing a knife at a button beside it.

A panel closes down on him and you almost sigh, but are given no time and he holds it up. How strong is this dude even?

You look beside you and without even thinking that hard, push at a bunch of random buttons. A second pair of doors close in his face.

Now you do actually sigh, leaning against the wall,

"Well done," Mando says, you just throw out a tired hand,

"No problem,"

Mando gets up and opens the two doors back up, the Devaronian falling slack to the ground.

"Get up, there's still the others,"

You nod, trudging up and following behind him.

The two of you wade through the hallways when Mando holds up a fist and points to where you assume his ear is supposed to be. You listen intently, hearing the footsteps in a nearby hall.

Mando points to you and then to a side hall, you nod in understanding, making your way around.

You hide behind a side pillar, now on the opposite side of the large hall.

You hear a grunt and then the flicking of a knife and jump from your spot.

You see Xi'an facing Mando, throwing knife after knife towards him. You don't feel even a tinge of remorse as you sneak up behind her, smashing your blaster into her head hard. She lets out a squeel of anger, holding her head as she falls to the floor, throwing a knife that grazes your shin.

Mando butts her head with his elbow but misses as she slides out from under him, pouncing at you and throwing you against a wall. You drop your blaster as she pushes a knife against your throat,

"I'M PRETTIER THAN HER!"

She screeches before getting hit on the back of her head by Mando. She drops to the floor, finally knocked out cold. You and Mando look at each other for a moment before you say,

"She's your crazy ex girlfriend, not mine."

Mando shakes his head, moving down the hall, you follow him to an area where the lights blink on and off, on and off.

Mando leans out behind a corner, then looks at you,

"Cover me," he says before walking out, you look to see Baldis back turned as Mando looms behind him. He grabs Baldi by the back, knocking him into the wall and then punching his head with the butt of his blaster. With that, Baldis out cold, good riddance, you think.

You and Mando start to make your way back to the ship, you notice another twi'lek, bigger than Xi'an, trying to get up the hatch.

"Qin," Mando says, the twi'lek looks defeated,

"You killed the others," he mumbles,

"They got what they deserved," Mando answers as you shift on your feet. The twi'lek growls before turning to you two sharply. Your two blasters point at him.

He scoffs, "You kill me, you don't get your money. Whatever Ran promised, I'll make sure you get it. And more."

He starts nearing the two of you, "Come on Mando. Be reasonable," he throws his weapon of to the side, which does little to ease your tension.

"You were hired to do a job, right?" he continues "So do it." he holds out his hands, "Isn't that your code? Aren't you a man of honour?" he chuckles as Mando lowers his weapon and goes to him. You still hold your blaster up, though.

Mando tells the twi'lek to turn around and go up the hatch, he does so obediently. Mando looks back at you as he follows the twi'lek up.

You put away your blaster, climbing up the hatch when you hear a loud blast. You scramble up the hatch, only to see Mando holding up his blaster as the bug droid falls to the ground. You see the child standing at the cot.

"Is he okay?" you ask, Mando walks up to the child,

"He's good."

You jump up into the ship, going straight to the kid and picking him up,

"You okay?" you coo at him, "I'm sorry I left you here," the child just giggles up at you, hands strechted out to your face.

You hear a grunt and look to the side of the ship to see the twi'lek sitting grumpily, his hands tied to the wall. You huff as you take the kid up to the cockpit, where Mando is already sitting, preparing to take off.

++++++++

Arriving back at the port, you and the child stay put as Din climbs down the ladder to take the twi'lek out.

You look out from the window, watching as Ran and Mando talk. Ran throws him a booklet of credits. Mando says one last thing before walking back up the ramp.

Returning to the cockpit, you look at him curiously and he starts steering the ship out of the port,

"How can you trust they won't do anything?" you ask, holding the gargling child on your lap,

"I wouldn't be worried about that." Mando answers, clacking at some buttons as you sail off into space. You furrow your brows, confused at his vague answer.

But your confusion is short lived when you see empire jets pop out of hyperspace, making their way to the port.

You huff as you look back at the space port now being bombarded by jets, thinking back to the tracking device Mando had taken earlier.

"You are evil," you laugh as Mando puts the ship into hyperspace.

>Chapter IV

Taglist: @enfppuff

[planckstorytime]

Your Journey Ends: A Parting Retrospective on Dragon Age (Part Eight)

VIII. Rescue From Without

I feel like I still haven’t explained why Inquisition is my favorite in the series. Sure, I listed many of its qualities and explained some of its hidden depth, but I could do the same for the other two if I really forced myself to emphasize the positive. Something predisposes me to looking on the third game with fonder eyes. I think that comes from my first experience with it.

In autumn of 2014, I was intent on killing myself. I was in the midst of the worst period of my life so far. Everything I cared about seemed to be slipping away from me. My disagreeable living situation had me feeling trapped. I panicked about school. My relationships with friends and family were crumbling. I could scarcely make it through a day without breaking down in sobs or screaming my head off or throwing chairs or smashing my skull against a wall. I thought I was drowning, and struggled daily to maintain composure among my peers and act like nothing was wrong. When nothing seemed to work, I felt like it was time to end it all.

Around this point, Dragon Age: Inquisition released. I had been curious about it, as it seemed like an ambitious return to form for BioWare after the controversial titles of Dragon Age II and Mass Effect 3. I cautiously picked it up, wary of the sting of disappointment that those games had inflicted upon me. To my surprise, I just got… sucked in. I can’t quite describe it, but everything in Inquisition just clicked with me. The characters, the atmosphere, the art direction, the exploration, the combat, it came together exactly how I wanted it to – how I needed it to.

Even with the busy work quests of the open world sections, I found endless fun. The massive scope impressed me, immersed me, took my mind off my troubles. I was more interested in discovering what was in this world and getting to know these characters than I was with my orchestrating my own demise. I played and replayed, pumping out character after character to see the variances that could occur in the story and distinctions between classes. Before I knew it, I’d logged hundreds of hours into the game. By that point, my mental health had started to improve.

It might sound silly, but I do think that Dragon Age: Inquisition saved my life.

On the topic of schmaltz, one of my favorite scenes in the game, second only to the final conversation with Solas in “Trespasser”, is also one of the most widely mocked: “The Dawn Will Come” scene. Yes, the moment where the refugees of Haven unite in song. To many, it’s hard not to laugh at this moment. While obviously sentimental, I don’t find this scene as ridiculous as some others do, partially because we’re witnessing a religious community whose faith literally revolves around singing (they’re clearly performing one of their oft recited hymns), and partially because I find it such an effectively touching moment. There’s something moving about seeing the displaced faithful of Haven, having just lost their homes and seen their defenders and would-be saviors fall, all rally around the despondent Herald to offer a melody of hope through the darkness. In a game that often questions the legitimacy and morality of faith, this scene shows it in an unequivocally positive light. They’re not singing about how the Herald is their messiah, or how they should best serve or praise the Maker – they’re gathering out of respect, supporting one another in a troubled time, and placing their hopes upon someone they think can deliver them. They believe this even when the protagonist no longer believes in themselves, because they’ve witnessed their courage and their failure, and they believe that as long as they’re alive, they have the chance to rebuild. As long as you hold on, hope will shine once more.

I watched all of this happen for the first time as the dawn literally broke outside my window, and it made for a sublime experience.

From there, we’re treated to the majestic cutscene revealing Skyhold, the Inquisition’s new base of operations, as well as the Herald’s formal induction as the Inquisitor – the leader who can validate the faith of those who believed in them at their lowest. After that, I hopped back into the open world and slew my first dragon after an intense, riveting battle. As difficult as it was, I overcame it. It felt glorious. Hitting rock bottom, then rising from the ashes like that, no other game has ever made me feel the same sequence of emotions that Inquisition gave me at the end of its first act.

I resonated with the Inquisitor once again when I selected a certain dialogue option during “Trespasser”, prompting them to plea, “I don’t want to die.” The moment was so raw and real, a rare instance of vulnerability in BioWare’s otherwise resolute and courageous protagonists. I think I really felt for the Inquisitor there. I had relearned to appreciate my life through my adventure with Inquisition, and hearing my Inquisitor’s quivering voice, fearing her own mortality, gave me a sobering realization that I really didn’t want to die either.

So maybe Inquisition isn’t as good of an RPG as Origins. It definitely lacks a lot of that game’s depth when you compare them head to head. And maybe Inquisition is burdened by more flaws than I mentioned in this essay. None of that really matters. To me, it’s still the most emotionally resonant game in the series, and one to which I am forever grateful.

I’m confident there are others that feel the same way about Origins, or DA2, or maybe even The Veilguard. They all have their flaws, and we all have our preferences. But every fan of the series is here because the stories touched us in some way.

After the cliffhanger ending of “Trespasser”, I couldn’t wait to see what would happen in the follow-up. I anticipated traveling with returning cast members from Inquisition, tracking Solas through the bustling streets of Tevinter’s cities, and finally witnessing a showdown between him and the Inquisitor in the legendary Black City.

I had no idea how wrong I was.

Full article: https://planckstorytime.wordpress.com/2025/03/29/your-journey-ends-a-parting-retrospective-on-dragon-age/

[bharv]

*taps mic* Hello! I was wondering if you had any director's commentary, as it were, for the fabulous 'Stonemilker' (if you haven't done so before)? How did the idea start? What scenes did you have in your head first and which is your favourite? Anything you threaded into it that few/no-one picked up on? Feel free to yap :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT MY BELOVED STONEMILKER!

I will try to keep this kind of brief but I'm always up to expand on any point.

So, hilariously, the fic was originally intended to just be that second scene of them in bed together in the apartment in The Wide, and it was supposed to be a short kink fic combining two kinks that really didn't end up in the piece at all (people who were around in the small server about The Dark Urge I frequented will know that I was challenged as part of a challenge to combine two things, and for once they were things I personally find hot for once.) I started writing it, and then the sexual contact just didn't feel like it would organically go the way I had envisioned when I started, so I put it down for a little bit and had a look at some other things. I then wrote the last section, again thinking it would be something else, and realised oh, actually, there's a story thread between these two scenes. It was only when I went back to re-read Monster, Mine and The Portrait and really asked myself what both of those stories were exploring (being in love with an idea of somebody and not being able to be honest about that, and wanting to capture something that cannot be captured are themes in both, though with slightly different weighting) that I found myself landing on the theme of language. I've personally had a number of short, intense, probably unhealthy connections in my life - they always melt away when you start to try and hold onto them too tightly, like hugging a snowman lmao, and I wanted to look at that sort of imminent collapse that would be the risk in the kind of relationship in many durgetash pairings that were more than a brief flirtation.

I'd say my favourite is a tie between the penultimate and ultimate scenes (though I enjoyed bringing back Wisteria Jannath, that scene was one of the ones that took a long time to get the moving parts working!) There's something in those final moments in Gortash's estate, the things they can and cannot say to each other, that felt like such a personal piece of writing.

I'm always so grateful that readers see so many of the breadcrumbs I leave! But I do wish I'd been able to give a little more space to the relationship between Manva and Orin. I cut a couple of scenes with them because it felt like it was meandering off too much, but the pattern of Orin following her, imitating her, and ultimately threading those things through bait for her in the timeline of the game was something I wish could have been made more obvious. When Manva goes to her stash, where she keeps precious things, that is where you later find Stillmaker, the blade made for her. It's also the same path the Bhaalists take into the temple, and where the refugees are killed. I always loved the idea that Orin is at her peak theatricality when baiting her sibling, and I wanted to explore that somewhat.

Thank you, again, for letting my yap about this one particularly. It was my favourite thing I wrote, even if readers may have preferred some others, and will always be something special to me!!!

[canmom]

re gaza fundraisers situation

i don't think most of these escape-from-gaza fundraisers going around are likely to be scams. there probably are some scammers who jumped on the situation opportunistically, but there's less convoluted ways to make a buck. similarly, i think the people who are going to the effort of trying to verify them fit the profile of people who stepped up to do a difficult and quite thankless task and got in over their heads. why are there so many fundraisers? well if i was stuck in a refugee camp during a genocide and i word got around that there was a website with generous strangers who might pay for me to leave, i would probably give it a shot. so would you, I suspect. "elaborate conspiracy by porn bot operators to scam tumblr users, setting up a spurious system of 'vetting' to justify their scam" doesn't seem particularly parsimonious as a conclusion to jump to (the porn bot operators are in general just using tumblr as a free hosting service for seo shit), but if you fixate on the idea that's what's going on, and feel like you're the smart one for not falling foot it, there's very little evidence that can't be framed as part of the conspiracy. so a few people i sorta know over in the rat sphere threw out this accusation and now it's a whole furore.

even beyond that, though, there's plenty about the situation that is, through no fault of these gazan refugees, plain fucked. just like with e.g. trans fundraisers, with a loosely finite amount that people are likely willing to spare, you get a game of who can write the best appeal to emotion. for example, if you can point to a middle class occupation you used to have to supplant the stereotype of a poor refugee, that's effective rhetoric and maybe your fundraiser will go further. this is ugly and it shouldn't work like that, but that's the shape of it.

thus, the refugees end up looking at a wall of potentially hostile strangers and trying everything strat they can think to persuade them to part with money, while the tumblr user side is being constantly presented stories of strangers in pain; some of them end up trying to purchase satisfaction of moral principle, relief from feelings of complicity, etc etc. there are some personal connections between the two, but for most, that's the extent of the interaction. unfortunately, where they're continually confronted with a lot of people in very similar situations of misery, people (without some personal stake or connection keeping them invested) are likely to start mentally grouping everyone into one abstract figure of 'palestinian refugee', tuning out, finding excuses to dismiss them, etc etc. so on the refugee side, it ends up a very finite-sum game. and scammers just make that worse by mixing in an extra element of 'FUD'.

and worse, even if everything works out, mostly this money is going straight into the pockets of Egyptian border guards who set the (essentially) bribe price for putting someone on the exit list. similar to when the cops lock someone up and you have to raise bail, they can set that price to whatever they think they can get away with. there is absolutely no reason why it should cost $10,000 a head to cross from one side of a wall to another, except that the circumstances of this genocide produce an opportunity to fleece refugees - and anyone who decides to help them.

but if my friends were in Gaza you can bet I'd ask anyone who'd listen to pay those guards off for me. and if they refused, it would fucking hurt - that's my friend, they could die. a life saved is a life saved.

in general we are much more likely to move for a friend we have a personal connection to, or even a stranger who we perceive as relatable, than a total stranger, no matter how dire that stranger's situation. on some level this really feels wrong like, to each according to their need, right? somehow though applying the cold calculus of lives saved per dollar feels utterly cracked. if you're not filthy rich, there isn't really a good course to follow, because it's just a bad situation.

this isn't advice. there are always more people in need than you are capable of helping - the situation in Sudan is very dire as well for example, I've made online friends with a young gay guy at another refugee camp over there, and there's not much I can do to get him and his friends out except hope that he has some luck with certain Canadian charities. but every city on earth has people ending up destitute, right outside your door. helping someone is always a gamble. ultimately the call of which person you choose to help is quite arbitrary. so re gaza, I'm personally sending a decent chunk of monthly money to unrwa and I donated to a few fundraisers, but ultimately I'm already giving nearly all of my disposable income away to specific friends who are currently depending on me, so... is that the 'right' allocation of resources? i don't know and just have to accept the decisions i made.

charity is not a relationship that brings out the best in people, in general - it is inherently unequal, and there is a sense of shame, anxiety and suspicion that surrounds the whole thing on both sides, and that tends to find escape somehow. nobody likes to feel like a mark, nobody likes to feel like a pity case, and even in situations of legitimate suffering, nobody likes the hard sell. but as long as the genocide continues (and it shows no sign of stopping), this will continue, people will need the help. i have no solution.

[pizzleyanked]

this might get long, but i have been thinking about this since i finished kcd. i really cannot agree with the criticism of kcd1's ending. that henry never gets the sword back, that he never kills markvart von aulitz for the attack on skalitz. that somehow, because these are goals that haunt your quest log throughout the near entirety of the game and go unfulfilled, the story is incomplete. and i loved that those goals weren't accomplished.

you don't always get what you want when you want it, and kcd has always taken great care to represent henry as someone who isn't the ur-hero of campbell's journey. i loved watching his change from a young directionless man, still very boyish, to someone who is effectively a tool to those who have helped him and can get him closer to achieving his goal. i loved watching him at certain moments try to dissuade people from going down the same path as he is. but that boy is still there--eager to please, snarky, hotheaded, prone to get himself into tough situations. but forced to mature and endure. his survivor's guilt and his single-minded purpose to avenge his parents and recover his father's sword are the backbone of his involvement in the political landscape in the game. bohemia is living through a civil war and henry is trying to navigate this landscape to the best of his ability, all the while his life and the lives of many others are upended. but at the end of the day, the world doesn't care about martin's sword (even radzig himself is shown to not care about the sword he commissioned after everything that happened) and the world doesn't care about henry's hatred for markvart. in fact, other people, including skalitz survivors, encourage henry to move past this desire for revenge. to live after the trauma they have all endured.

henry is uniquely treated in this heavily stratified feudal society, for reasons you can't quite comprehend at first, but this doesn't put him above requiring the aid of others and aiding others in order to get to where he wants. nobody is--even the nobles have to honor agreements that they disagree with because at the end of the day it is the best outcome. if we have to let istvan toth leave the fiefdom unharmed for him to release lady stephanie and radzig and to leave talmberg, then so be it. istvan toth says that war is nasty business, and you see how destructive it is. but it also brings people together. theresa helps people get out of skalitz to the best of her ability. radzig doesn't take divish's offer of aid for fear that talmberg will face the brunt of sigismund's army. robard risks his and his men's lives to rescue henry when he returns to skalitz. hanush takes radzig and the skalitz refugees into rattay in spite of the tensions between locals and the refugees. theresa and miller peshek nurse henry back to health to the best of their ability. radzig takes henry under his wing. henry rescues hans during their hunt. radzig, hanush, and divish all unite to deal with the bandits at pribyslavitz and later vranik. and when this endangers talmberg, they help divish get his home back. henry can help the skalitz survivors in various small ways. and so on. together they endure the biggest source of unrest in this small region of bohemia. but the civil war is ongoing. so henry rides off into the sunset with hans to deliver a message to the league of lords. it was all just a small ripple in a larger scale conflict.

i'm so eager to see where kcd2 takes henry. and hans, who from what little i've played is going through a similar journey, albeit starting from a very different point (it's interesting to see him at the end of 1, feeling at the top of the world, and to contrast him with where he is after the opening events of 2). he lost the men under his charge, is seemingly struggling with survivor's guilt, and having a shit time adjusting to his new lot in life. as for henry, in kcd1 he threw himself into deeply perilous situations time and time again. now, as hans' bodyguard, i'm eager to see how these tendencies will play out as they're both thrust into an unfamiliar land with only each other as a lifeline

[dalekofchaos]

Havik NEEDS Hotaru

I think my biggest complaint about Khaos Reigns aside from the Sektor & Cyrax design change is No Hotaru.

For those who did not get around to playing Deception & Armageddon. Let me tell you about Hotaru.

Hotaru is a General from the realm of Seido, the Realm of Order, and devotes himself to preserving law and order at any cost - to the point that he can be considered a fanatical zealot. Hotaru is more of a lawful-type of neutral (equivalent to his opposite pole Havik, who spreads discord and chaos) because he preserves law and order and harshly punishes those who dare break it, but he is not above preserving it to a higher authority (such as the Dragon King Onaga).

Not to mention what a sick design he had

Plus his special move was lava arrows.

There is so much you can do with him on gear alone.

Hotaru has so many things going for him.

Tall and imposing af which is rather unique for none-Shokan characters

Has cool carapace armour

Has a Naginata, a weapon that nobody else on the roster uses

Has cool lava themed abilities, something else rather unique to him that can be incorporated into so many combo chains, specials, finishers ect along with his Naginata.

His name means firefly in Japanese and he has a special called grasshopper. Take the lava burst and exoskeleton armour on top of this and do something cool with the fire bug theme.

A general from the Orderrealm or head of the Sedio Secret Police, you could not only delve into his conflict with Havik and make Havik more relevant in the main story but you could also give him some kind of rivalry with Shao, another general of a similar stature who shares Hotaru's militaristic themes and a warped mirror image of his disciplinism. Hotaru is actually on Outworld with other refugees from Seido as Mileena let them in so this could be set up quite easily.

His potential for badass outfits is limitless

Like how CAN YOU NOT SEE THE POTENTIAL????

And let's take a look at Havik's bio from MK1

"A citizen of the realm of Seido, Havik is sworn to take down its oppressive regime and free his people. There, order is prized above all else. Lawbreaking is met with strict punishment. Its citizens live in strictly regulated castes. As a member of Seido's lowest caste, Havik had neither rights nor privileges. He seethed with anger at the injustice. When he is brutally punished for a minor crime, Havik finally decides to act. He sets out to destroy Seido's regime and replace it with an anarchist utopia. Once he breaks Seido's social order, Havik will free its citizens. Together, they will live in blessed anarchy."

And you mean to fucking tell me you couldn't put someone in charge of Seido's oppressive regime or even the leader of Seido's secret police in the game? You're seriously telling me there was NO place for Hotaru in this story? Get the fuck out of here with that shit "Notaru" shit, Ed.

Also? They kind of gave Darrius story to Havik as a revolutionary. Speaking of Darrius, again WHY are they giving two revolutionaries but no goddamned oppressive figure from Seido to fight against???

Hotaru being absent from MK1's narrative is a creative failure. Like, they could've painted a shade of grey on Liu's character by having him recruit Hotaru to help maintain order in his timeline. The fact that there is no Chaos Realm just tells me Liu Kang just forced Hotaru and Havik to co-exist and that led to potentially Hotaru enforcing oppressive Order by any means necessary while Havik becomes an anarchist.

Hotaru would be fantastic here, especially as a overtly order obsessed character who yes, is aligned with the good guys, who slowly realize "aw shit this guys gonna be a problem too" as his methods and beliefs and goals aren't perfectly aligned by any means beyond "stop havik"

I think it’s kinda baffling how we have a story expansion where Havik is the villain and they just leave out the golden opportunity to bring back Hotaru.

Havik is chaos personified. Hotaru is the worst aspects of Order. He can go from saving you, liberating villages and setting up a fucking police state and NRS STILL does not see the potential in Hotaru?

[desceros]

[Earth shattering stomps heard in the distance comes closer and closer]

[Halts and in a quiet voice]:

Symphony donnie and viola chans' wedding.😊😊

[Stomps away into the distance]

i don’t think they’d be married, actually!

i think what would happen in the bad time is a very different progression of their relationship. i think violist-chan would have been a refugee-type in the beginning, who tried to use music to keep everyone’s spirits up.

(i imagine this would annoy donnie quite a bit. that noise could attract unwanted attention, after all.) (noise?? excuse you. it’s music, and it makes people happy. aren’t you one of those guys saying hope is our most important weapon??) (that would be my brother. and his taste in “music” is almost as terrible as yours.)

but eventually you start going out on supply runs. you don’t do well sitting on your hands, and people need things. and donnie starts noticing that people really do seem to be in a better mood when you’re around. fuck, he’s in a better mood when you’re around. the hell is that all about.

and eventually the two of you have this just. insane sexual tension. that probably snaps one day to ravel’s habanero or something. you’re telling him it’s sexy. he’s telling you you don’t know what sexy is. oh yeah. yeah. then. well.

and after that he still hates classical music but you, oh. how he admires you. you with no special powers. unmutated. weak. how strong you are. how you bear everyone’s weight for them. how you insist on talking to everyone until they feel better despite how many pieces of you you have to trade away for their happiness. how you’re the last one to spill your troubles, and only after he or leo needles them out of you. how you get along so so well with everyone and just brighten the entire world with your smile. how you love so fiercely, even him, especially him, when he’d been so cruel to you in the beginning.

(leo never stops teasing him for his 180 on his opinion of you. not until after youre gone and it’s no longer funny to anyone.)

but you both were always busy. always moving. you’re both workaholics. both needing to be busy to feel like you’re being useful. making time for the other but never having enough of it. he’d have time for less important things when they got a foothold against krang, he’d think. until people really started dying. then it was more of a panic. he’d have to make it a little safer before he could take the time for something so frivolous and unnecessary. what was marriage after all but just a different word for what you already were? and when you got pregnant it was even worse. the world wasn’t safe enough for your child. any moment he wasn’t with you, he was fighting. working. clawing desperately at an imagined haven for his daughter. for you.

i think it would hit him the moment someone came up to him and mistakenly said “i’m sorry about your wife” that it was something he really did want. and just. never let himself imagine. never gave himself the time to have. but by that point, it was too late. all he had left were old recordings of music that ached and a mask never worn except by him.

anyway can you step on me now so i can get crushed and die? thanks

[pixeljade]

Had a dream that they came out with another Distant Lands episode of Adventure Time which actually explained all the cosmic entities, framed through an explanation of where Prismo's sleeping old man came from. In the dream, the old man's name was just Paul and he was a guy on earth during the days leading up to the mushroom war who slept through everything. His family made jokes about how he would probably sleep through the apocalypse, and he couldnt hold down any jobs because he was always so sleepy. He had a wish to someday make the perfect pickle, but nobody took him seriously. He also had a small dog who always got jnto mischief. Meanwhile, in his dreams, he was communing with various gods, especially the cosmic owl. At some point the cosmic owl just casually says to him "Oh actually the apocalypse IS coming lol" and he just freaks out, and cosmic owl just says something about seeing if he can get him a job with his boss, changing the subject awkwardly. Paul says "yeah sure, whatever", and then wakes up to an air raid as bombs are dropping in his neighborhood. He runs, and falls down into a sewer, which somehow lets him survive the initial blast, but he get irradiated. From then on out we see Paul moving from refugee camp to refugee camp, surviving the final days of humanity, while his dreams seem empty, and he laments that even what he thinks are his imaginary friends have given up on him. Meanwhile, we're shown Cosmic Owl going to their boss, who we only ever see as a ball of pulsing light which changes color constantly, and speaks through a monotonous drone. The Cosmic Owl then gathers all the cosmic entities to discuss Paul, and all of them agree that Paul is worth saving--of interest is that Scarab is amongst those saying this. But that direct interference just to save one guy isnt okay. But what they CAN do is pull out his inner cosmic essence and ascend him to godhood, something Cosmic Owl laments as not being ideal. So then Cosmic Owl comes to Paul, as he's ain a group of survivors, the children of which have animal hats, and Paul is about to turn into one of the goo monsters that result from radiation. Cosmic Owl says he has a way out of his horrible fate, but its kinda a monkey's paw type deal. Paul simply says sure, and Cosmic Owl tells him to shut his eyes, and focus on what his inner cosmic essence tells him he should do. Paul just smiles sadly and says, he's met so many people who never got to see their wishes to fruition, he just kinda wants to be able to bring their wishes to life. Suddenly, Paul's shadow starts turning pink, and Cosmic Owl whisks him away from earth, knowing that he cannot be there any longer, pulling him to one of the many random floating rocks in space. And then boom, suddenly, reality unfolds into the cube Prismo lives in, right above Paul, and Paul heals up and falls into a deep sleep. Prismo and Cosmic Owl have a quick conversation, where its clear Prismo has no memory of Paul's life, but Cosmic Owl makes some comment about pickles, and Prismo lights up talking about making pickles. Cosmic Owl smiles gently, appreciating that there's still a little bit of Paul in there, even if Prismo isnt him. Cosmic Owl explains his job as wishmaster real quick, and goes on his way to report back to the others. Prismo starts flipping through channels, fast forwarding through ones, and ends up seeing Jake making bacon pancakes and smiles. Then we cut away to Cosmic Owl with the other entities from earlier, explaining Prismo, and Scarab gets pissed. Scarab apparently really loved talking to Paul, and now Paul was forbidden to ever awaken, so long as Prismo was free to be himself. He swore vengeance on Prismo then and there, saying that if he made even the slightest mistake, he would take him down and bring Paul back. And thats when the episode ended.

And yes, i do dream entire episodes of things sometimes with complete plot points. My brains just like this.

[dragoneyes613]

There’s a popular slogan in Israel that appears on car stickers, jewelry and suchlike: Ein Li Eretz Acheret, “I have no other country.” The phrase comes from the title of an iconic and extremely moving song written by Ehud Manor, with music composed by Corinne Allal, and originally recorded in 1986 by Gali Atari; we will mention those names again later. Its opening lines and chorus are Ain li eretz acharet, gam im admati bo’eret, “I have no other country, even if my land is burning.”

A neighbor of mine, who was experiencing considerable war anxiety about the land burning, told me that he didn’t relate to it at all. He said, “But I do have another country. I can go back to Teaneck!” And he said that if things got worse, he would seriously consider doing so.

At the beginning of the war, I was wondering the same thing. I do have another country – two, actually. I have UK citizenship and my wife has U.S. citizenship, and our children have both. Maybe we should go back to live somewhere safer? One of the commentators on the previous post was talking about Lakewood as being a safe and excellent place to live with a rich Jewish life.

Now I could continue by talking about how special and beneficial it is to live in Israel, about how it’s both the Promised Land and our historic homeland, about how it’s the only country with Jewish sovereignty. Which would all be true. But there’s a different point that I want to discuss in this post.

Yes, I do have another country that I could go to (though it wouldn’t be at all straightforward, especially for my children). So do lots of people in Ramat Beit Shemesh and the rest of Israel.

But there’s also lots and lots and lots of people who don’t.

There are millions of Jews in Israel who just don’t have anywhere else to go. There are those who simply don’t have the money for it and would find it too difficult to find employment in a country where they don’t even speak the language. There are those who are too old or ill or who have young children that would suffer from a move. There are those who have crucial responsibilities here. There are those who are just too deeply embedded here.

Even more to the point, there are also millions of Jews who literally don’t have any passport other than their Israeli one. What other country will let them in? The Jews who came from Iran and Egypt and Syria and Yemen are certainly not able to go back to those countries! Nor are Russia and many European countries a safe place for Jews. And even countries which are relatively safe and allow some immigration are not going to accept millions of Jews (and if they did, those countries would likely quickly become not very safe for Jews).

In fact, that’s one of the main reasons why Israel came to exist in the first place. As antisemitism grew in Europe, many Jews realized that they needed to get out, but simply had nowhere to go. Twenty years before the Holocaust, at least 100,000 Jews were massacred in pogroms in the Ukraine, which also created 600,000 Jewish international refugees and millions more who were displaced and threatened.

At this point, many people realized that an even greater catastrophe might happen. But the countries to which the largest numbers of Jewish refugees were fleeing all revised their immigration policies to prevent further Jewish immigration. This included not only Poland and Germany (which obviously wouldn’t have been a good long-term solution anyway), but also the United States, Argentina, and British Palestine. In the U.S., Henry Ford’s newspaper published pamphlets about the Jewish problem, claiming that the national debt was Jewish-inspired to enslave Americans and other such hateful slurs to keep Jews out.

Then things got even worse in Europe, with the rise of Hitler. Some people managed to get out. The parents of Ehud Manor, writer of Ain Li Eretz Acheret, fled Belarus and managed to get into Palestine.

Yet still no country was willing to take in millions of Jews. The U.S. convened the Évian conference, bringing together 32 countries to find a home for Jewish refugees. But aside from the Dominican Republic and Costa Rica, no country, including the U.S., was willing to accept Jewish refugees in any remotely significant number. Consequently, millions of Jews were killed in Europe.

And even after the horrors of the Holocaust, many Jewish survivors still had nowhere to go! Some of them went back to their home towns in Poland and were killed in a pogrom. Others languished in Displaced Persons camps for years, some of which were actually in concentration camps. My late mother-in-law spent the first years of her life in a DP camp; her parents were lucky enough to have a relative in the U.S. who eventually managed to bring them over, but most Jews did not have such an option.

Many Jews, very understandably, realized that a Jewish homeland was needed. It wasn’t about it necessarily being the safest place for a Jew to live. Everyone always knew that Palestine was in a hostile and dangerous part of the world, and that there would be a challenge with the resident Arabs (though it was generally assumed that some sort of compromise would be worked out; there was no broad plan to drive them out). And on the eve of the War of Independence, it was assessed that there was only a 50-50 chance of survival!

Israel has not yet been, and still is not, the safest place in the world for Jews. But not everyone has the option to live in the safest place in the world – many people just need somewhere that is safer than where they currently live. And in any case, having a homeland is not about attaining the greatest safety – it is about having a home, a place that Jews historically belong, a place that Jews can always come to when they fear persecution or experience discrimination, where we can take responsibility for our own safety, and where we can put being Jewish into action and expression.

While Israel won the War of Independence – at a cost of 1% of its population – this created a crisis for nearly a million Jews in Muslim countries, who were persecuted and had to make immediate use of Israel as a refuge. The parents of Gali Atari, singer of Ain Li Eretz Acheret, fled Yemen for Israel, while composer Corinne Allal’s family fled from Tunisia. But it should be born in mind that even if Israel had not come into existence, the existence of Jews in Muslim lands was difficult and very precarious.

And so we reach the situation that we are in today. Israel is home to over seven million Jews. Most of them do not have another country to go to, even if they wanted to (which they don’t). Ain lahem eretz acheret.

(As Haviv Rettig Gur notes, this is the fundamental mistake made by many Palestinians and their supporters, who believe that they can rid of the Jews with violence just as the Algerians successfully used violence to get the French colonialists to go back to France. They don’t grasp that most Jews just don’t have a country to go back to, and thus violence won’t achieve anything and will even be counter–productive.)

Now, there are some Jews who only look at things in terms of their own personal interests. “Where is a safe place for me to live? What is a spiritually safe environment for my children?” And if, as a result, others are less safe physically and spiritually and have to take on an even larger cost to their families and jobs and religious life, then that’s just too bad.

But others feel a sense of responsibility to the rest of our people. It’s not “me” and “them” – it’s us. The correct formulation is not ain li eretz acharet or ain lahem eretz acharet. It’s ain lanu eretz acheret.

Millions of Jews need Israel. And Israel needs a strong army and a strong economy to finance it and a flourishing national Jewish life. Each and every one of us has a responsibility to help with that.