#to be clear- i did ask the people i've encountered doing this to stop but odds are they probably won't even respond

[phantomoftheorpheum]

. tag vent

[merrybloomwrites]

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter Summary: Y/N is overjoyed to head to the hospital to meet her new nephew, and ends up meeting Harry Styles as well.

Word Count: 1.7K

CW: mentions of people giving birth

AN: So excited to finally post this series! I've really enjoyed writing this and hope you'll all like it. Thank you to the anon who requested shy virgin reader!

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You’re anxiously waiting to get a text or a call from your brother-in-law. You’d spoken to your sister yesterday morning and she mentioned that she felt like she was having contractions and would probably be in labor soon. So casually! You figured that since this is her second baby she must be feeling more relaxed about the whole situation.

But that doesn’t stop you from worrying about her for the whole day and a half between that call and when your phone finally rings again, Brian’s name appearing on the screen. He’d been sending regular updates to you and your parents and the last one sent almost two hours ago just said “it’s time”. 

So this call must mean your new nephew is finally born. You quickly grab the phone and answer the call. 

“Brian, hi!”

“He’s here!” He exclaims. “Born at 1:35, 7 pounds, 2 ounces, 21 and a half inches long.”

“How is he doing? How is Kyra?” 

“He’s perfect! Kyra did great, she’s resting at the moment. We'll send a picture soon. She asked that no one come this afternoon but we’d love for you to stop by tomorrow. Your parents are coming in the morning and bringing Wyatt to meet her little brother.”

“Ok great! I’ll talk to them and coordinate what time.”

“Awesome, you’re gonna love him! Listen I’ve got a couple more calls and I want to get back to them but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Brian, give Kyra my love!”

“Will do, bye Y/N.”

You hang up and literally squeal with excitement and relief that he’s here and everyone is doing well. You let out another happy noise when you get a couple pictures from Brian. You’re immediately in love with this little boy, even if he looks like an alien/old man hybrid. You wish you knew his name, but your sister made it clear she is keeping it a secret until you and your parents meet him in person. 

At 8PM your mom calls and you figure they just got Wyatt to sleep. You talk for a bit and make plans to all meet at the hospital the following morning at 11. 

You’re so excited that it’s nearly impossible to fall asleep, but you manage. The next morning passes quickly, and suddenly it’s time to head to the hospital. 

Once there you find your parents and your niece signing in and you do so as well. Finally, the four of you make your way to the right room. Just like when you met Wyatt nearly three years prior, you immediately fall in love with this little baby the second he’s placed in your arms. 

“Everyone, meet Jasper Lucas,” your sister says. 

For half an hour you all get to spend time with Jasper as well as check in on Kyra, who truthfully looks fantastic for having just given birth the day before. You and your parents step out in order to give the family of four some time together. 

Your mom comments that she could use a coffee and your dad hastily agrees so they head off to the cafeteria. You figure they must not be used to taking care of a toddler and decide to go over and help out that evening. 

They ask if you want anything and you decline, choosing to instead go into one of the family waiting rooms and check on a project for work. 

The room is empty when you enter but after a minute you hear footsteps. Looking up from your phone, you’re shocked to see who just walked in.

Harry Styles casually sits in one of the other chairs. You subtly glance at him, noting his jeans and sweater combo, as well as the look of pure excitement on his face. After pointedly looking anywhere but at him for a moment you can't help but turn towards him again.

“Hi!” he says cheerfully when he notices you looking at him. 

“Hello,” you manage to squeak out. 

“I’m Harry,” he says, leaning towards you with his hand out.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply while politely shaking his hand, hoping you’re doing it right. Which is wild because you;ve shaken hands with people hundreds of times but like, this is Harry Styles. 

“My sisters just had a baby,” he adds, and now you understand why he’s practically vibrating with glee. 

“Congratulations! Mine has as well. Is this Gemma’s first?” You realize a second later how creepy you now sound, using his sister's name when he hadn’t even told it to you. 

Before you can apologize he laughs and says, “Yes, her first. So you know who I am then?”

“I mean, I don’t live under a rock so yes, I am aware that you’re Harry Styles.” 

“Can you do me a favor then, love?” 

You nod, willing to do anything he asks, especially if he continues to use such sweet terms of endearment like ‘love’.

“Gems kept this whole pregnancy private, and isn’t planning to announce she’s had a baby for a few weeks. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I just had to tell someone. Can you help keep this a secret and not let anyone know about the baby?”

“Oh of course, yea, secret’s safe with me.”

“I appreciate it. We may be adults now, but I think I’ll always fear the wrath of my big sister,” he says with another laugh. “Is this your sister's first as well?” he asks.

“No, I have a niece, Wyatt, she turns three next month,” you reply.

“And this little one, boy or girl?”

“Boy. His name is Jasper. My sister always said she wanted one girl and one boy so I guess she got her wish.” 

You refrain from asking him the same question, not wanting to look like you're asking for personal information about his family, but he apparently doesn’t feel that way because he says, “Gemma had a girl. The tiniest little thing. I think. At least she looks that way in the picture.”

“You haven’t been able to see them yet?”

“Not quite, they needed a few more minutes before they were ready. Our mum’s in there with her, has been the whole time, so I’ve been anxiously waiting on my own.

“I feel that. I was the same way the past couple of days.”

“Well at least we have each other now, I feel much less jittery being able to talk to you,” he says.

“Glad I could help. People say I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

“Oh I can see that already, I’m quite enjoying this conversation.”

Just then Harry’s mum, Anne, walks into the room.

“Harry dear, they’re ready for you,” she says, giving you a quick smile before she walks out again.

He jumps out of his seat and says, “Sorry to cut it short, but-”

“Not a problem! Go, meet your niece. Bet she’ll be very happy to meet her Uncle Harry,” you reply.

“Would you want to keep talking? Later?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be at the hospital.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean here. I just meant, maybe we could meet again, some other time. At some other place. Preferably with better coffee.”

“Are you asking me to hang out with you at a coffee shop?” you inquire, wanting to make sure you fully understand what is happening.

“I am. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve actually asked someone on a date, guess I’m a tad rusty.”

Your eyes go wide at the word ‘date’. You were already perplexed, wondering why he’d want to hang out with you as friends, but making it a date? 

Your mouth works faster than your brain, and before you can really think through your answer, you hear yourself saying, “I’d love to get coffee with you.”

“Fantastic! Here, write your number in my phone and I’ll text you to set something up,” he replies while unlocking and handing over his phone. You’re practically on autopilot typing in your info and handing the phone back to him.

“I should go, I’ve got a niece to meet. It really was lovely chatting with you.”

“I agree. Say congrats to your sister for me!”

“I will, please say the same to your sister.”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Goodbye Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon.

“Looking forward to it. Goodbye Harry.”

With one last shy smile, he walks out of the room, leaving you standing there feeling rather shell shocked. You don’t have long to dwell before your own mother pops back in saying Kyra is ready for you all to go back.

You spend another hour there before leaving to go out and get some lunch. While you’re at a local restaurant, trying to encourage Wyatt to eat her lunch rather than play with it, you get a text from Brian saying Kyra and the baby will be discharged later that afternoon.

After lunch you go to their house and entertain Wyatt while your parents make sure everything is clean and ready for them to come home. Brian, Kyra, and Jasper arrive just before dinner, so you stay to make sure everyone eats and is as content as possible. 

You leave after cleaning the dishes, knowing everyone is ready to settle down for the evening. Back home you hop in the shower, and when you get out, you have a text from an unknown number. It reads, “Hello, Y/N, it’s Harry.”

Your eyes go wide and you let out a nervous giggle. Honestly, there’s a part of you that thought you had hallucinated the interaction this afternoon, but here’s proof that it all really happened. Before you can type back you get another message from him saying, “If you’re not busy, how would you feel about getting coffee this Saturday? Say 1PM at Inkwell Cafe?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply. Your phone dings again a second later and you read, “See you then! Have a great rest of your week.” After sending a quick “You as well!” you toss your phone to the side. 

You get into bed, and reflect for a moment on everything that happened since getting up that morning. You knew it’d be a wonderful day; how could it not when you got to finally meet your perfect nephew?

But to have met one of your favorite celebrities and now have a date with him? Never in a million years would you have guessed the day would end this way. You fall asleep feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hoped you liked this chapter and can't wait to share the rest!

[chocochozi]

Second Chance.

Pairing : Sanemi Shinazugawa x Hashira!Reader

Warning : Slight angst, Sanemi maybe a little bit out of character, angst with a happy ending.

Part 2 of The Other Woman.

A/N : AHHHH i didn't expect people to like the first part😭😭 for the people who are asking for part 2, here it isss

Taglist : @yomama2089 @elibelly @delusional-mushroom @bright-sunshines

@senecarosemary-blog

Its been two weeks since the argument with Sanemi. It hasn't been clear to me if the relationship has really ended. Though, its more likely that it has. I've been doing a great job avoiding him those past 2 weeks. Over the course of those days i've been spending my time with everyone but him basically.

But then again, it didn't go unnoticed for the others. Not seeing us together hip to hip did made them suspicious. Cause even if we were in a room together, i avoided him even if it means staying quiet.

If i was to choose between talking to him or Tomioka i'd rather choose the second option and distract myself with having the most boring conversation in the world with Tomioka than talk to him. (no hate to him sorry, Giyuu.)

But as one would expect, the avoiding will eventually came to a stop or be forced to stop.

And here i am, in the Ubuyashiki Estate where both me and Sanemi were requested the presence of by Master himself. Being summoned like this can only mean one thing, to be situated to being partners for a mission. Of couse both of us couldn't say no.

The mission was a simple one, kill the demons that has been lurking in the village that we had been sent to. Only that it needed two pillars since the demons are reportedly strong.

We set out under the dim light of the moon. You can feel the tension that had been building for the past few days in the air, plus the uncomfortable silence that each of us didn't even dare break.

Sanemi's steps were heavy and his brow was furrowed as he led the way. I followed behind, my breath coming in short gasps as we made our way towards the village.

As we walked, we encountered a few demons along the way. But, Sanemi was quick and efficient as he struck them down, while i did the same.

Once in the village, the plan was to split up and so we did split up to search for the reported demons. Sanemi's search was quick, and i could hear the sound of his sword striking against a demon's flesh. On the other hand, my hunt was slower, i found myself wandering through the winding empty streets, trying to find the elusive demon.

Wandering around more, i finally found the demon, but it wasn't alone. There were multiple demons in the area, and they were clearly ready for a fight. I drew my sword and prepared to face them off, my heart pounding in my chest.

[ 3rd person view. ]

As the fight began, both Hashiras found themselves separated, each fighting off multiple demons alone.

[ (name)'s POV. ]

I've been fighting these demons for what felt like a few hours now, after i slayed one of them another appears and i struggled against the demon's fiery attacks.

The reports were right, these demons are strong, almost as strong as a Lower Moon, my breath coming in gasps as my strength and stamina started to weaken.

Wiping the blood off of the side of my forehead, My appearance was disheveled, my hair messed up, blood streaming down my face, my uniform has rips on it including one of the claw attack on my legs creating a masive slash on my pants. a hiss escapes my lips as i touch my bleeding forehead. 'Hurry, Sanemi. My stamina's not gonna last longer..' i bit my bottom lip. I didn't wanna die with out making up with him.

As i stumbled, i was caught off guard with a stabbed on the lower back by one of the demons i was fighting. I let out a blood curdling scream. Its a good thing that it wasn't a vital point, now, i hadn't been attacking, only defending. My moves are a bit sluggish now that the tiredness was getting to me.

An hour into the fight, It was no use, my stamina was long gone and i couldn't even gather up the strength to get up. 'Ah..im passing out..i think?' I layed there on the ground, vision starting to spin and blur, everything around sounded so muffled like i was underwater.

Through my blurry and spinning vision, i saw his familiar figure. I took one last breath and finally closed my eyes, it was enough for me to know he was alive, but there we're two demons left. I heard them whispering to each other before I saw Sanemi arrive, it was along the lines of hiding and wanting to ambush him while his defenses were down.

[ 3rd person POV. ]

Sanemi was in the middle of battle when he heard a scream– their scream.

"[Name].." Sanemi breathe out, turning his head to the direction where he heard you scream. He turned his head again to focus on what's infront of him, Sanemi stood against three demons, his sword gleaming in the moonlight. as three demons approached him. The creatures were covered in scales and had razor-sharp claws, their eyes glowing with demonic energy. The Hashira didn't hesitate, charging forward to engage them.

The first demon was the largest, and Sanemi knew that it was the most dangerous. It raised its claws, ready to strike, but Sanemi was faster. His sword flashed in the moonlight as he struck, cutting through the demon's scales severing its arm. The demon let out a roar of pain, but Sanemi didn't let up and went of the demons neck.

Sanemi was known for his speed and precision, but even he struggled against the demons' raw power. He lunged at the first demon, his sword slashing through the air, but the demon blocked the attack easily with its massive arm. The second demon lunged at Sanemi from the side, its claws striking at his chest, but he dodged out of the way, his sword striking at the demon's neck.

The third demon was the most formidable of the group. It stood tall and powerful, towering over Sanemi. The demon let out a chilling roar, clearly preparing to attack. Sanemi stood his ground, his sword raised in a defensive position.

The demon charged at him, its huge claws bared and ready for battle. Sanemi waited for the right moment and dove out of the way, just in time to avoid the attack. The demon crashed into the ground, leaving itself vulnerable.

Sanemi was quick to seize the opportunity. He leaped onto the demon's back, his sword held high. With a single, decisive blow, he severed the demon's head from its body, effectively killing it.

Sanemi stood there, breathing heavily, his sword still clutched in his hand. surrounded by the lifeless bodies of three powerful demons. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he knew that his work was not yet complete. He had heard the blood-curdling scream of his partner, who had been his only ally in this fight, and knew that he had to find them. As the adrenaline started to wear off, he started to feel the strain on his body, the toll of the intense battle suddenly catching up with him.

He quickly searched the area, his heart racing with anxiety and dread. Finally, he found them, lying on their own blood, passed out. Sanemi's heart sank as he looked down at their helpless form. He knew that the demons had done this to them, and he felt a burning anger rising within him.

But he knew that he couldn't dwell on anger now. He had to focus, to channel his emotions into the fight ahead. He had to save them, no matter what the cost. He stood infront of them to protect their unconscious body. ready to face the next challenge.

As he waited, he could hear the distant sounds of two demons growling and snarling. They were coming, and they were hungry. Sanemi was ready. He drew his sword, his eyes set on the enemy. He knew that he couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, that he had to be calm and collected. But he also knew that he had to fight with all his might, to protect the them and to avenge their wounds.

As the demons finally appeared before him, Sanemi let out a primal roar and charged at them with all his strength and speed. He was a blur of motion, and his swrod flashed in the air as he sliced through the demons like butter.

In moments, the two demons lay defeated at his feet, their heads severed from their bodies. But Sanemi's fight was not yet over. He quickly ran to their side, checking their pulse and breathing.

They were alive, but barely. Sanemi knew that he had to get them help as soon as possible.

A few minutes later, Multiple Kakushi arrived at the village taking them from Sanemi's arms. "I tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on it," he gently passed you to the Kakushi, "you better take good care of them." His voice was demanding but quiet. The Kakushi nodded.

After receiving news from Aoi that they had woken up from being unconscious for three days, Sanemi quickly made his way to the Butterfly Mansion, his heart racing with anxiety. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had been hanging over him since the battle, and he desperately needed to see the them.

Finally, he arrived at the Butterfly Mansion, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he ran up to the doorstep. He burst through the door panting.

Shinobu's eyes widen as she heard the door burst open revealing a panting Sanemi on the door way, he clearly rushed here as soon as he received the news.

"Their awake," Shinobu said, her voice soft and filled with emotion. "I was just filling them in about everything that's happened, and they were asking about you."

Sanemi's heart leapt in his chest, his eyes widening as the weight that had been pressing on him lifted. "Where are they?"

"I'll take you to them," Shinobu led the way to their room gently knocking then opening the door softly. " [name], Sanemi's here." They were spacing out looking at the window to their left, until they heard his name, they turned to look at the opened door, their eyes landing on the face on the man they love.

Sanemi couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. They were sitting there, looking just as beautiful as ever, albeit a bit pale and tired.

"I'll leave you two alone." Shinobu says, earning a hum from the both of you.

Sanemi walked over to their bed, they were leaning on a pillow while they were sitting.

"I'm glad you're okay, i shouldn't have made the plan to split up, im sorry." he murmured,

"The plan worked out fine, and if it wasn't for you i would've been devoured by those demons so, thank you."

Sanemi took a deep breath, knowing that this was a conversation that he couldn't delay any longer. He had to apologize to them about the argument both of them had a few weeks ago, to let them know that he understood ther concerns and that he was sorry for hurting them.

"I want to apologize again about the argument we had," he began, looking down at his hands. "When we first started dating, and even now, I compared you to Kanae, and I realize now that that was wrong. I didn't realize how much it hurt you, and for that, I'm sorry."

[Name] looked up at him, surprise written all over their face. He had rarely spoken to them like this before, had rarely been this vulnerable and open with them.

"Thank you," they said, taking his hand. "Thank you for understanding. And I'm sorry too, for not being completely honest with you about my worries. It's just that, i wanted for you and your brother to be okay."

Sanemi smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew that their relationship wasn't perfect, that they still had much to learn about each other. But this moment, this honest conversation, made him certain that they were headed in the right direction. And he was willing to do whatever it took to keep them happy, to be the best partner that he could be.

"I promise you that I'll be more thoughtful in the future," he said, looking into their eyes. "And I'll do my best to see things from your perspective. Because in the end, I don't want to lose you, and I want to make this work. So, I hope you'll give me a second chance."

They smiled, feeling a warm tingle in their chest. They never expected him to open up to them like this, to really listen to their concerns and apologize for his actions. And they knew that this was a turning point for their relationship, something that they could build on moving forward.

"Of course," they said, leaning in to kiss him. "I love you, Sanemi."

The two of them pulled away from the kiss, "I love you more."

"So, i guess we're okay?" He looked at them in the eyes. He was suprise to see them burst to laughter.

When your laughter dies down, there was a comforting silence that lingered in the air. "Yes," You smiled at him and lean into his face again to peck him on the tip of his nose.

[interastical]

Another Phighting writing account??YAYYAYYAYAYAY

can you do yan!Subspace x former assassin!reader (reader is gender neutral!). The reader was from Blackrock but ran away and uhh Subspace kinda found them again.. oneshot please!

(I stole this request from someone because the other writer hasnt update for a while and I am in desperate need of fanfics.. thank youu!)

sorry for taking so long on requests! i've got a good handful in my inbox now and since i got a lot of my assignments out of the way, i can start working on these ahaha

requests are also still open! please feel free to send some my way in my inbox :)

aanyways, thank u for being so patient!!! here we go

tw - yandere themes, kidnapping, drugging, semi-realistic violence

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

♡ YAN ! SUBSPACE X READER ♡

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

Your life at BLACKROCK was -- to put it bluntly, a living hell.

Your entire life, all you ever knew from the moment you entered this world and were shipped off to that horrid faction, was violence, war, weaponry, and murder.

You were trained to hurt people. Hurt demons who dared try to question Blackrock. Those who tried to flee, to escape the freezing confines of the place.

Rules were strictly abided to at Blackrock. Make one mistake -- consider yourself a goner. The best outcome was you being thrown in prison, the worst outcome was being slaughtered publicly.

You were made to abide by the rules and silence those who made the smallest of mistakes.

Nobody ever thought you'd break the rules one day yourself.

So when you one day disappeared, having vanished off the face of the Inpherno, Blackrock believed you were a goner.

That was far from the truth.

You knew the ins and outs of the faction, making your escape was relatively easy -- a cakewalk.

As an assassin, you specialized in stealth, speed, and agility. Maneuvering past guards and treading through freezing cold blizzards did not falter your escape in the slightest.

And when you were finally out, taking a deep breath of the fresher, evenly temperature air, you believed to be in the clear, as long as you managed to keep a life of anonymity, what could go wrong?

And you were right -- everything was fine.

Until one day, when mindlessly watching a PHIGHT, you noticed a familiar face participating in the round.

Subspace T. Mine.

You felt your heart stop in the moment.

Back in Blackrock, the two of you hardly had any form of connection. Rarely spoke to one another, as the two of you were on completely different fields of work.

His rambles about discovery and science nonsense made no sense to you. His work partner - Medkit, seemed constantly annoyed by the guy's presence as well.

You always talked to Hyperlaser more often. You still occasionally met up with him and Katana to go out for drinks in Crossroads -- as Hyperlaser was your only friend from Blackrock who swore to keep your existence a secret to that awful, awful faction.

But you did always take note of how Subspace.. stared at you often, whenever the two of you did manage to encounter one another back in Blackrock.

You remember constantly asking him if he needed something, and he'd whip out some awful excuse, saying how he was just "focusing on something next to you" or "staring off into space".

Yet, he always did it often. It got on your nerves.

The guy was .. a little weird. It's no wonder you constantly avoided him.

But Subspace... knew everything about you. Unbeknownst to you.

He'd often send a Biograft to just .. watch as you worked in Blackrock. He was so utterly captivated by the way you'd wipe out any filthy traitors with a single swipe of your blade.

You were so.. powerful -- flawless, perfect.

Subspace wanted everything you had.

Subspace wanted you.

The way their blood would hit your face, your stoic expression unchanged at their screams and cries -- as you silenced them with ease.

He so badly wanted to talk to you. But he could never find the courage to do so, despite his greatness, talking to you was his only flaw.

Medkit was often forced to listen to his constant rambles about you, often tuning it out and focusing on crystal studies.

But oh -- did Subspace just want to bring you in, set you down and tear you open, digging around at your inner workings, watching as your blood would stain his skin.

He needed you.

So when you disappeared, Subspace was devastated.

His work became sloppy, slower, and his emotions became violent.

Medkit suffered the consequences of his outbursts.

Nothing was never enough. Not without you. He needed to see you again -- even if you were some lifeless, rotting corpse in the midst of a blizzard, or if you were out there somewhere, he needed to find you.

So when he felt eyes on him during a PHIGHT match that he'd found himself participating in, he turned his head.

And he saw you.

You looked different. Your appearance was different, but it did not change the fact that your face was the same.

He found you.

The match? Subspace didn't care about some stupid bux anymore. You instantly clouded his mind. Thoughts of you, your face, your skills, your expression -- everything.

He could hardly hold back the manic laughter bubbling in his chest, rising to his throat.

Subspace had found you.

And he wasn't going to lose you again.

Walking home to your apartment in Crossroads late that night was no unusual activity for you. After saying your goodbyes to Hyperlaser and Katana, you strolled down the empty sidewalk, your apartment building only a few blocks away.

The sounds of crickets in the distance, the soft breeze of the night and the lack of any demons around was rather peaceful for you.

Thoughts of seeing Subspace again had almost completely left your mind, the soft buzz of alcohol from drinking earlier had you a little more careless.

But the sudden rustle of a bush from not far behind you shattered the relaxation you were undergoing, as you froze.

As a trained assassin in the past, you had high reflexes. Any slight noise off in the distance; you were trained to take note of, and prepare to defend yourself.

The night grew still.

You swore you heard quick footsteps.

Multiple footsteps. Two people, max.

One sounded.. normal. The other sounded heavier.

Something wasn't right here.

You quickly took a few steps back, not taking your eyes off of the bushes behind you, your dominant hand moving to reach for your gear so that you could summon it--

You were suddenly yanked backwards by cold, rough, metallic hands wrapping around your waist, locking your arms to your sides.

It wasn't a demon's skin that you felt from your assailant.

" TARGET ACQIRED. "

You knew those voices.

Biografts.

A Biograft was holding you still.

" PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RESIST. "

You ignored the bucket of bolts, slamming your head back onto the robot's in hopes to damage it enough for it to loosen its grip, allowing you to escape.

As you felt the arms around you begin to loosen, a figure suddenly ran in front of you.

You felt a sharp pinch in your neck.

You screamed.

Not out of pain, you were trained to have a high pain tolerance.

But you weren't an idiot. You were clearly getting kidnapped -- and you'd most likely just got some kind of injection.

A cold hand covered your mouth.

"..shh, shh." a familiar voice -- slightly muffled underneath a mask, spoke. "Don't scream, beloved. I only gave you a small pinch!"

The demon in front of you -- you recognized him instantly with horror.

Subspace.

You -- how -- he actually noticed you earlier?!

You noticed your vision growing foggier and foggier - your brain turning into mush as comprehending thoughts became harder and harder.

no no no no noononono

You felt Subspace move his hand away from your mouth and over towards your cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb.

"Don't panic." Subspace reassured -- his voice becoming quieter and quieter, sounding farther off into the distance as your consciousness was quickly deteriorating. "I'll take good care of you."

The last thing you felt was being slowly lifted up by the Biograft - and your world faded to darkness.

[astrea16]

Piers and Pirates

So I've never watched One Piece before the live action, and I was curious about the anime but wasn’t sure I’d be into it so I started with Skypiea right away. The interesting thing I’ve noted about the structure of the story is that it reads a lot like a DnD campaign: one big journey divided into story arcs with their own atmospheres and challenges, and of course the iconic “you want to go now?” that turns into a ten-episode prep before the sky islands. I’ve briefly mentioned them before, but some of the encounters are so creative. I’m thinking for example of the Swamp Priest with the body control of a toddler who can’t cross his arms on his chest and forgets to say things out loud; or the old lady at sky customs who will let you pass because she can’t do anything to stop you but then sends an entire squadron after you. It’s a shame the anime is so poorly paced because the worldbuilding is genuinely phenomenal—but then again, it’s like watching a really long DnD campaign.

You can tell that Oda put a lot of research into his manga because every piece of information feels believable, whether it be Robin’s knowledge on ancient civilizations—the fact that Skypiea itself was inspired by the Mysterious Cities of Gold makes so much sense—or Nami’s navigation skills. It feels like you could sail in any direction and find an island with incredibly rich lore and characters. I’m just in awe of how unique each of them feels. Character creation is HARD, and yet no two are the same in Oda’s world. I could only achieve this level of depth with consistent roleplay, and he did it with all of his characters. They speak for decades of reading stories and consuming art blooming into one personal mindscape.

But the most remarkable one is Luffy. As opposed to the typical hero on a journey, Luffy doesn’t stand out because of a major personal growth or anything of the kind. toraheart put it perfectly in their analysis by calling him a catalyst: the story isn’t about Luffy, it’s about how he changes the world around him. How he inspires people to break free from their chains, how he stands for an ideology. More than an actor, Luffy is a symbol. And you can see that as clear as day in One Piece Fan Letter (2024) where he receives less than a minute of screen time, yet his presence resonates throughout the entire episode. The Marine who was inspired to save his brother in a moment of crisis, finding his strength in the boy whose own brother had died before his very eyes. The little girl looking up to Nami as a beacon of hope and rebellion, the same woman who found the courage to ask for help so that she could free herself from a decade of child exploitation at last. The teenager who works at the bookstore, listening to Brook’s music to get through her day. All of these were informed in some ways by the unstoppable force that is Monkey D. Luffy. He quite literally jumped out of a fire in that episode, and we know that epic imagery is one of the most evocative means of inspiration. If the boy wasn’t an anarchist, he’d be the face of revolutionary propaganda.

Speaking of anarchy, some people have called him a terrorist and I think I can stand with that. Luffy is kind, yes, but he is also selfish and stubborn. Despite his desire to help people achieve their dreams, he is entirely unconcerned with casualties when he’s fighting. He has only one goal in mind and will do anything to see it to the end. What compels me isn’t his beastly strength or his extraordinary abilities, it’s the fact that he wants everyone to do the same. To find their one piece, and to add it to the puzzle. It may not fit the first time around, but there will be people riding the same wave as you. And if someone stands in your way, well then screw that! Why do you think Luffy was so happy to have his face on a wanted poster? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not because it confirms his power. It’s because he knows that the world finally sees him. Luffy doesn’t really care about the treasure, he wants to become King of the Pirates so that he can have a place in a world that doesn’t want him.

To finish up on Fan Letter because it’s a masterpiece and I need everyone to acknowledge it, you really get this sense of carelessness from the Strawhats making their escape out of Sabaody. Yeah, everybody knows what they’re up to and they’re not exactly subtle about it (see: Luffy), but since when do they give a damn? The whole world is watching and they’re not even looking back, they’re just feeling the wind in their backs and staring straight ahead. Doesn’t that make you want to go on a grand adventure yourself?

By the way, if you liked the feel of the animation I highly recommend checking out the Gobelins channel on YouTube. It features several shorts by aspiring filmmakers in art school and they’re all a freaking delight to watch.

[xitsensunmoon]

I've been thinking about sharing this here for a very long time and now it reached a point when I'm so upset I just can't be silent anymore.

Almost immediately after creating this account, the first thing I did was to put "Ukrainian artist" in my bio.

Shortly after that, I got a few asks with death threats, disturbing and just horrible words about my nation and culture. I was called a nazi, a fascist, and just a pig. Hating me just for being a Ukrainian, just for my existence. Not just on Tumblr, but on other social platforms too. If I were to guess, those were sent by russians or people who support the war.

Dca community made me feel the safest I've ever felt in any other community, up until that point.

After that, I put "russians DNI" in my bio and closed anons. Whoever was sending hate was not brave enough to say the same terrible things to me on their main pages. It felt a little bit safer that way, even if some of you will say it's not the right thing to do. Honestly, at that point, I was really ready to just leave Tumblr for good.

I can't stop people who are making me uncomfortable and making me feel unsafe from coming to my page and ignoring my very clear boundary of just not interacting with me.

It's my page. It's my art. It's my home. I have the right to decide who I want to have here, who I want to interact with me and my art, my hours of work. If you're taking away that right from me, do you really think you're a good person and my boundary doesn't apply to you?

I do not attack russians. I do not spread hate and toxicity, even though I have a right to be as angry as I can. I do not mass report their accounts and don't send death threat asks. I just ask to be left alone.

My question is, if a person, a russian, sees my bio that asks to not interact with me, but decides against it, ignoring my boundaries gets banned for it. Am I really in the wrong?

The point of this - if you don't agree with my actions please leave. Don't start a fight, just please leave. Because I will continue to block every russian who I encounter on my page. I really, really don't want people who just don't even want and try to understand the situation and just completely ignore how fucking terrible this is even WITHOUT me starting on the war context.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Since this morning, Hezbollah has been firing rockets at Israel's northern towns. There is at least one man dead, identified as 25 years old Zahara Bashar, an Israeli Druze, and 2 people injured as a result of this on going attack.

This is a reaction by Iran-funded Hezbollah to a strike by Israel yesterday on a different terrorist organization, al-Jama’a al-Islamiyya (the Islamic Assembley, an ally of al-Qaeda), and following even more Israeli military activity in Lebanon, meant to stop a senior member of Fatah (the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority) from smuggling Iranian-funded standard explosives and additional weapons into Israel for terrorist attacks. As one TV military reporter I was listening to yesterday explained, the difference between improvised explosives and standard ones is in how lethal they are, for example when a small amount is attached to the side of a vehicle, the difference is whether one person gets killed or ten.

I've written about Israel still waiting for definitive proof that Marwan Issa, Hamas' #3 in Gaza, has been killed in a military strike. Yesterday, we got an official confirmation of that. This means that out of the 4 Hamas leaders that are on the top of Israel's list, two are gone. We're still left with Yahya Sinwar (#1) and Mohammed Deif (#2). Most Israelis tend to think that if Israel manages to kill Sinwar, Hamas will likely surrender, and the war would be over.

As Israel's military operation in the Shifa hospital continues, here is a really important batch of testimonies from captured terrorists, about how, once the IDF left this place, they returned to it, exploited it assuming they'd be safe there, and how they were not alone, with defined areas for the Hamas terrorists, and others meant for the Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) terrorists, cynically using spots such as the maternity ward.

A military reporter published the fact that Israel has refused permission for Turkey and Qatar to participate in air drops of humanitarian aid into Gaza. The reporter frames it as a political decision, but consider what it means that Qatar and Turkey are both politically hostile countries - that there is no way for Israel to verify they would not try to air drop military aid to Hamas. At the same time, I wanna highlight what this info also means, and hasn't been talked about... It means that every time you hear about yet another country air dropping aid into Gaza, that's done with Israel's permission. And there are way more countries permitted to do this than refused. This is one of many things that should make it clear that Israel is NOT targeting regular Gazans, and is making every possible effort to make sure they are getting humanitarian aid, while trying to minimize how much this aids Hamas (and in that sense, prolongs the war).

These are brothers Neria and Daniel Sharabi.

On Oct 7, they were at the Nova music festival. Not only did they survive Hamas' massacre, they also helped to save others. Since then, they've started a fund to help the survivors, and in order to raise money, they've been traveling abroad, telling their story, mostly to Jewish communities. A couple of days ago, they were traveling to Manchester, in the UK, when they were asked at the airport upon arrival what their religion was. They recount that after disclosing they were Jews and what they were there to do, they encountered hostile reactions, including being told (according to a TV interview I heard with them), "We don't like what you're here to do," and "We have to make sure that you are not going to do here what you are doing in Gaza." They were detained for a couple of hours, before being allowed in. The brothers said they're convinced this was motivated by antisemitism based on being questioned about their religion. The incident is said to be investigated.

This is 40 years old Amit Soussana.

She was kidnppaed to Gaza from her home in kibbutz Kfar Azza, and among the hostages released in late November. A lot of Israelis remember her as the hostage who was captured on film trying to fight off the men taking her, with no less than 7 of them (yes, Israelis have counted) involved in her abduction:

We've had private testimonies from Israelis about having been raped, we've had public testimonies from Israeli who have seen the physical evidence of the Hamas rapes, we've had public testimonies of Israelis who have witnessed those rapes, and we've had public testimonies of hostages, who've heard from their fellow captives about the sexual abuse the latter have gone through. All that wasn't enough for some people, who continued to deny Hamas' sexual violence. Now, Amit Soussana is the first Israeli to come forward and publicly talk about the sexual assault she had suffered at the hands of Hamas. Her testimony has been published in the New York Times, and for anyone without a subscription, other publications have quoted parts of it, like Times of Israel. A part of me really hates that Amit might have felt compelled to speak because of the doubt cast at raped Jews. Another part thinks that for the second time, she is showing outstanding bravery. And yet another finds it hard to believe that this will make a difference. Those who are dead set on not believing Jews, essentially calling us all liars, will do the same to her, and when they do, I hope she won't have to witness that firsthand. But in a sense, if their doubt is indeed the reason why she felt she had to speak up publicly, then it's clear that there's already been damage done to the victims of Hamas' sexual violence.

This is 35 years old Uriel Baruch with his son.

Uriel was married, and a father of two. He loved techno music, and on Oct 7 was attending the Nova music festival along with a friend, Michael Yoav, who was murdered there (his body was found shot in the car in which the two were trying to escape). Uriel was kidnapped. Yesterday, the army was able to confirm to the family that Hamas had murdered him while in captivity, and is still holding Uriel's body hostage. The number of Israeli hostages in Gaza is 134, and the official confirmations of death indicate that no more than 98 are still alive, though some count Hamas claims as well, in which case no more than 96 are. May Uriel's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[againstacecilia]

Because You Left

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: This one's for anybody, but the whole blog is 18+ for sure.

Warnings: Lovers to strangers, fighting, angst, swearing, both of them are probably idiots but *shrug*

A/N: Holy wow it's been a minute! I've had this one in the vault for a while but just never did anything with it. There's a happy ending as well, so I can post that if there's interest, but I'm pushing myself to not tie everything up so nicely and let the tough emotions sit so you get ✨angst✨. We also don't need to talk about how I'm working through some things about an old flame with this one soooo hush. Unbeta'd, no use of y/n.

It’s an unusually quiet night on base, lamplight flickering through the hallways and muffled laughter sneaking under doors as people take advantage of the stillness. Your footsteps echo loudly, an intrusion in the calm as you hurry to your post, breathless by the time you arrive.

“Sorry I’m late,” you begin, not looking at your watch partner, “I couldn’t find-”

“Not like you to be late, Captain,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Your stomach flops as you meet Poe’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Commander.” Your words falter, the memory of your last encounter momentarily clouding your mind…

“Find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” Poe says quietly at the door, not looking at you, “I’m busy.”

“Of course you are. Seems like you’ve been busy a lot these days. Busy with everything but finding time for me.”

Poe doesn’t say anything as he turns his back to you, pressing the button to close the door to his quarters. The click of the door sliding into place echoes deep in your bones as you’re left alone in the hallway…

That was months ago. You’d immediately requested a service change to a new squadron and done everything in your power to avoid seeing him again. Night shifts and dangerous recon runs, anything to make sure your paths never crossed again. 

“No need to apologize, I won’t tell anyone.” Poe winks at you with a grin. “So, it’s been a while, how have you been?”

Shaking the memory from your mind, you begin preparing for your watch. “Fine. You?”

“I’ve been okay.” He watches you gather your things, eyes trained on your every move.

“Mmm,” you respond non-committedly, shoving a flashlight and spare battery pack for your blaster into your bag before tugging the straps over your shoulders. “Well, I should be off. Being late and all.”

“Actually, we should be off. Your shift buddy called out so I’m his replacement.”

Fantastic. “Commander Dameron on night patrol?”

“Everyone pitches in where they’re needed,” he responds, hoisting his pack. 

Six hours on watch with Poe was the last thing you wanted to do, but he was right. Everyone was expected to, and for the most part did, pitch in where they were needed. If this was how you were expected to help the Resistance then you’d grit your teeth and get through it. 

“Let’s get going then.” You’re out the door and making your way to the watchtower before he can reprimand you for speaking to your superior like that. 

Luckily, the calm seems to be holding and the watchtower is nearly serene in the clear night. Stars twinkle above you in constellations you were still learning and the breeze was a song you never tired of. Lost in the ebb and flow of nature around you, you don’t notice the time pass.

Poe’s voice breaks the silence for the first time in hours. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, keeping your eyes on the wilderness beyond the base.

“What happened? With us?” 

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and the breeze seems to stop at the question. Like the whole base was waiting on bated breath for your response. “We just… Grew apart. That’s all.”

You hear Poe shift in his seat. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Not entirely.”

“What do you want me to say, Poe?” “I want you to look at me and tell me the truth.”

“I told you the truth.” Your clipped response is bitter on your tongue and you keep your body facing away from him. “We grew apart and the war got in the way of everything else.”

“This isn’t just some distance thing, tell me what happened.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“You’re still not telling me the truth. I know you, why did you suddenly-”

“Because you left!” The words rip out of you and you finally stand, whirling around to face him. “Because you left me, Poe.”

Indignation blazes across his face. “I never left you, not any longer than a mission required of me!”

“That’s not what I mean!” Both your voices are too loud for the quiet watch, but you don’t care. Emotions flare and dance in your veins, demanding to be released. “You stopped giving a damn and then kicked me out of your room and told me you were busy. You stopped fighting for me. For us. You left one day and never really came back.”

The silence seems to echo as your words fade from the lone tower, open to the night sky. “I’d been trying for weeks at that point, Poe, and you kept pushing me away. So I stopped trying because you obviously didn’t want me around!”

“When have I ever said I don’t want you around?” He’s also standing, stepping into your orbit with his hands extended to his sides.

“You didn’t have to say it.” Stomping away from him to the rail of the tower, you lean against the weathered wood, “It was painfully clear.”

He follows you and grips your shoulders, spinning you to face him. “I’ve been out of my damn mind trying to be a leader in all of this. You know what Leia expects of me, you know what’s at stake-”

“Of course I do!” You shake his hands off you and push him away, “But I thought it would be exactly because of those reasons that you’d give a fuck about me. I thought, for a moment, that I was one of those things you were fighting for.”

“You were! You still are, and you always have been!”

“Just stop.” Your voice is trembling with rage and pain; searing white flames lick through the marrow of your bones. “Whether you meant to or not, you made it very clear where your priorities are and I’ve made my peace with the fact that this,” a sweeping gesture to the sleeping base below, “is your priority. Not me. And I shouldn’t be. I mean, hell, what am I compared to the entire Resistance?”

Needing to put any amount of distance between you, you make your way to the other side of the tower and settle into a chair, facing away from Poe. The noise from the breeze and insects comes back into focus as you curl your legs against your chest. 

After a moment, Poe’s voice reaches you from across the tower, “Do you know why I told you I was busy that night? Why I told you to go sleep somewhere else?”

You don’t respond, hugging your legs tighter as the anger starts to fizzle into sadness.

“I told you to leave because Leia had informed me that we had just lost an entire squadron to an ambush in the Mid-Rim. I had gotten some intel that there was going to be an unprotected shipment of weapons in the area and that group was sent out to get them. It was a trap, and my bad information got them all killed.” Poe stayed away from you through his explanation, his voice drifting by more quietly with each word. “None of them made it home. Because of me.”

The urge to go to him, to wrap him in your arms and comfort him, nearly overwhelms you for a moment before he continues. “I told you to leave because I didn’t want you, of all people, to see me break. I shattered that night, and when the sun rose and I realized that I’d made a huge mistake, you had already transferred and I didn’t see you again for weeks.”

Silent tears fall from your eyes at his admissions; the truths he laid in front of you. “So I let you go,” he whispers, “because it felt like some sort of karmic justice to lose you for what happened to those fighters.”

You find your voice again and say, “I’m sorry about the mission, I didn’t know… But that doesn’t make any of this better. It doesn’t excuse the fact that you didn’t even try.”

“You haven’t let me try.” His quiet voice begins to turn to ice.

“How was I supposed to know you even wanted to? You knew where my quarters were, you have access to all my orders; you could’ve come talk to me at any time and yet you didn’t.”

Heavy footsteps move away toward the edge of the tower. Without turning, you can picture his face in the starlight: his eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, muscles in his jaw and neck jumping as he clenches his teeth. “You said I didn’t try. That I made it obvious I didn’t want you around. Well, Captain,” he spits your rank into the night, “you made it pretty clear as well that you didn’t want to be near me. Switching squads and dodging me at every turn.”

“You have no right-” you begin, but Poe cuts you off.

“I have every right!” His yell echoes off the gently rolling hills surrounding the base. “I have every damn right when you throw accusations in my face like this. You wanna talk about someone leaving or giving up? How about we talk about how all it took was one bad night for me for you to completely push me away?”

Rage begins simmering in your gut again, bringing you to your feet and back across the tower. “You never gave me any indication that you were dealing with more than the normal amount of stress. I tried everything I could to ease that stress for you; bringing you food when you were drowning in paperwork in your room, letting you fuck me every night even when you couldn’t look me in the eye, ignoring every red flag just to try and prove to you that I was there through it all. And it was never enough.”

“Well, I guess that’s our answer, then.” Poe keeps his gaze locked with yours, eyes gleaming with fury and sadness.

Your heart shatters. “I… I guess it is.”

“I’ll send someone else up here.” Poe lingers for a heartbeat, fists clenched at his side, before turning and heading down the stairs, leaving you alone. 

You stare out over base, watching Poe’s form disappear from view in the night, each step a death knell in your bones. Any future you daydreamed about fades with each passing breath. By the time Poe’s replacement makes it up the tower, the early morning wind has dried your tears and frozen a thick casing of ice around your heart.

[simpforpeterp]

lucifer morningstar x reader

CHIP ON MY SHOULDER

summary: based on the song with the same name from legally blonde the musical. the reader, an angel, driven by love, follows their partner into hell, only to face betrayal and mockery. they then encounter a mysterious and charismatic man who offers surprising insights and advice.

warnings: not necessarily a warning but gender neutral reader, no use of y/n. also the partner is gender neutral and described with they/them pronouns. use of the word pretty to describe reader.

word count: 1.03k

"How did it come to this? All I wanted was to be with them, to follow them, to be by their side. And now... I'm here." You mumble under your breath, kicking brimstone as you walk.

You walk over and sit on a broken bench, your wings are tattered and dirty. As you look up at the dark sky, you begin feeling the weight of your choices. Following someone you loved all the way down to Hell was stupid. You were blinded by how they made you feel, you followed them as they fell from Heaven despite being in good standing up there.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? An angel far from home?" A man steps out in front of you, stopping his walk.

"Look, man, whatever gross things you have to say about me being an angel, I've heard it all today. So just...forget it." You cross your arms.

"I wasn't gonna say anything gross. It's just...you- uh, look out of place. To say the very least," He tries and you finally look up to see him. He's not very tall, he's very pale but he has this nice blonde hair that keeps you looking at him. "May I sit down?"

"Go for it. It's not like I'm...high priestess of where people sit in Hell." You say tiredly.

"New here?" He asks.

"I guess. Not really. I'm not...I'm not one of you people, I'm not meant to be down here." You tell him.

"If you're in denial, that's fine but at least-"

"No, really! I didn't fall, I'm on a shitty visit," You insist. "And I know, I just said a bad word, whoop-dee-frickin'-doo."

"Why would you ever want to visit here?" He laughs.

"Love."

"What?" He turns his attention to you.

"I followed where love led me and it apparently brought me to my very own personal circle of Hell," You play with your fingers as you look ahead. "And I made a big show of it too, coming down here. Now I have to go home, hat in hand. I wish I were dead at this point."

"You've gotta be more specific, babe." He sighs.

"I came down here because my dumbass partner broke too many rules and started saying these crazy things! So, of course, I'm an idiot and I follow them down here. Instead of the tragic love story I thought I was gonna get, they go and make friends instantly and turn into a completely different person. And here I am, just someone they mock with their friends. I wanted a Greek tragedy and got...whatever the opposite is."

"Did you seriously come down here to follow 'love' of all things?" He laughs before clearing his throat and covering his mouth.

"Oh, what got you here?" You wave it off.

"I'm an angel too," He sighs and you immediately turn to face him. "I was an angel."

"But you look so different."

"I've been down here for a while."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I had this idea they didn't like about rehabilitating sinners to bring them to Heaven. I was young and I was dumb and instead of persisting and trying to convince them, I got mad and slept with a human. And then I did it again. But then I fell in love with the first human and we got sent here together. We're not together anymore, messy divorce. So I'm not a big fan of love. Love is what got me here, alone and unfulfilled. I loved her more than anything, she gave me my daughter. But this place changed her for the worst and she left both of us. I wouldn't trust love for anything."

"I'm sorry but that's highly negative. Just because you have some kind of chip on your shoulder about how love hasn't worked out for you in the past doesn't mean it can't in the future. And you didn't think you'd go down the same path as Lucifer after doing the same thing? They practically have street signs up there that say not to sleep with humans." You laugh.

"Do you even know what Lucifer looks like?" He smirks.

"No, they have no pictures up there. Why?" You laugh.

"Hold on, I've got a picture," He sighs as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out something you can't quite see fully. "This is one of him sitting with some weirdo on a bench."

Before you can fully process what he just said, he scoots the slightest bit closer, showing you a mirror with the two of you sitting together on full display.

"Oh my-" You choke, falling backwards and almost slipping off of the broken bench.

"You know, people down here aren't usually real with me because I'm King but this was a nice talk. A breath of fresh air," He smirks before standing up. "And just a warning, these people are really awful, I'm sure you haven't even met the worst of the worst. If I were you, I'd just go home and sacrifice your pride. Actually, no I wouldn't. But you probably should. That asshole who left you is an idiot; an angel as charming and steadfast as you should be cherished. This was fun."

"Wait!" You say as you lift yourself to stand beside him. "How did you...how did you get used to it down here? In case I don't feel like swallowing my pride."

"Love." He chuckles.

"Oh, you're an asshole," You point a finger at him before laughing. "I like you, Your Highness."

"Haven't heard that in a while. And drop the formalities, you've insulted me too much to not be on a first-name basis." He jokes.

"Alright, Lucifer," You say, a hint of a smile forming. "Thank you for your advice or lack thereof. I think I'll stay a while longer."

"One thing I will say is, that chip on your shoulder can be your greatest ally. Let it drive you to be stronger, and fiercer. In Hell, that's the only way to survive. Especially for an angel as resilient and honestly, as pretty as you are."

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)

summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.

warnings: short and sweet! (none)

a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo

sneak peak | pinterest board

(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.) 

It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.

It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.

Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.

To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze. 

She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off  – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.

The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.

He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song. 

The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view. 

Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window. 

In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.

He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.

What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.

She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.

That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.

He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.

He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck. 

��Hi.” 

His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs. 

It was September.

“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”

“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.

She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.

No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.

The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.

Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.

“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.

What was that called? Heterochromia?

He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”

He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”

The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books. 

She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some study material done early.” 

Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.

She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.

He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.

He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.

He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie. 

He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.

He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”

She sighed, “Can I tell you something?” 

Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.

He nodded. 

“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”

Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.

He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.

The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless. 

When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”

She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”

Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.

He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”

Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”

“Natalia.”

“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.

“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”

Something clenched in his chest.

[wolven91]

Don't Feed The Bears

When Sarf encountered her colleague, Yous, it wouldn't have been particularly strange or odd. They were assigned as a pair to a back water planet within ursidain territories to observe and catalogue any new infections or illnesses in the trees of the new nature reserves. This had been one of the planets that had been near stripped clean by their forefather's unchecked greed. The objective was to reseed the world as best they could.

However, what Sarf found confusing was the fact her colleague, a respected scientist in his own right, was crawling on his hands and knees in the clearing. This was a new behaviour to say they least. Sure, he was a bit thin around the waist, but she didn't hold that against him as otherwise he had previously been a reliable partner.

The fact that he had walked into the clearing, but had dropped onto all fours to leave it, caused her incredible confusion, and demanded she announce herself and ask what in the oldest clan circles did he think he was doing?

Yous jumped, flinching in position until he sat backwards onto his rear and had the good decency to look a bit sheepish as he kept his head low, but slowly met her gaze. Sarf just sighed and shook her head, she was aware his size made him susceptible to bullying and didn't want to add to it, but the matter had to be addressed.

"I just want to know why you're crawling around through the forest. Are the kitchen crew bullying you again?"

"No, well... they never stopped, but no, this isn't that." The male explained, now avoiding looking at Sarf in the eyes. She watched as the ursidain was constantly scratching at the back of his paw in a nervous tick.

"I've found something out..." He said in a whisper despite their solitude from their own kind on the garden world in the making.

"The young humans..." Yous said.

"The cubs?" Sarf inclined her head, the odd, tiny, thin, and gangly creatures. The pair of botanists had been made aware that a single family unit of humans was hiding on the planet and to avoid them if possible. With just how rare humanity was, the ursidain government, like everyone else, had offered to secret populations of humans away in hidden locations within their territory. An unused infant forestry planet, with minimal to no dangerous fauna remaining did occur to Sarf as a perfect place to raise a cub, human or ursidain now she considered it. Yous continued however.

"They know us, long before meeting one of our kind properly it seems. They have a different name for us though; there's a young one and her family over in the next clearing. Just... let me show you?" He said, trying to convince her that he wasn't mad. Sarf grimaced and waved him forward. He deserved a chance, either he was sick and she would help or he had a point that she wasn't seeing without being shown.

With a roll of her eyes and a half shrug to agree for him to go for it, he rolled back over onto his four stumpy limbs and began to trudge forward, lumbering into the undergrowth. She wouldn't copy him but would hide herself from view. Watching the male lumber forwards reminded her just how close to feral beasts the ursidain people could look. She had barely propped herself up on a tree when a noise called out.

"Fluffles?" asked an unknown, but unmistakable voice of a child.

Sarf tucked herself behind an old tree, it was barely just wide enough to hide the majority of her bulk, except for the half of her face so she could spy on her colleague.

A young cub of a human came padding out from behind a bush, looking around for something... or someone it seemed more likely considering her colleague approaching her. Her dress was light, pink and flowing in the lazy breeze of the forest. She carried in her hand, a small bundle. Sarf didn't want to confidently guess the cub's age, but she suspected possibly five? Maybe six?

Yous spoke, turning the child's head towards him.

"Hello."

Sarf noticed a distinct lack of any translators in the child's ears and doubted they would have subjected her to any implants. To the human, her colleague would be only grunting or rumbling as humans struggled to understand the ursidain language, despite attempting to teach them the nuances. As soon as she caught sight of the ursidain's broad shoulders her face lit up and she bounded over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and mashing her face into his deep brown fur.

Yous, a runt by ursidain standards, completely dwarfed the tiny, delicate looking cub. Her arms didn't meet round the back of his head, despite him lowering himself down to her level. She released her hold, took a step back, and waggled an accusing finger at her colleague.

"You're late!" The young one accused, but all Yous did in return was fall back on his haunches and mumble an apology.

"I got you breakfast!" She continued, unworried about the massive creature as she presented a small bundle to him, and without hesitation or fear of becoming food herself, presented the food to Yous who happily plucked it from her hands in between claws as big as her whole hand and gobbled the food down with little issue.

Sarf became immensely jealous immediately, eyes bulging at what just happened.

Human food was delicious. This was a fact of the stars that sat alongside water being wet and fire; hot. Every ursidain knew this, but to find a human was already obscenely rare, to have a human cook for you?! How could her colleague hide this from her!?

To the little girl's perspective, her 'best friend'; a giant teddy bear she had encountered exploring the areas surrounding her parent's log house, was one of the greatest things she had found in her life. She had no memory of Earth, Bears as they were on Earth of old were no more; she hadn't been taught every extinct animal yet, so her only knowledge of the likeness of the ursidain was of her teddy bear, that still stood guard over her bed as she fed the 'real' teddy bear. To her mind, her teddy bear had merely come to life and was protecting her family just as her stuffed one protected her.

When the second 'teddy bear' appeared out of the undergrowth, the little girl's joy was immeasurable. She immediately exclaimed she'd go get more breakfast and ran off at full pelt, the last pink frill disappearing within moments.

Sarf plonked herself down next to Yous and made no comment as she mimicked him as best she could. She looked him over, ruffled the fur on top of her skull and tried to relax her shoulders. She believed she was aiming for 'dopey', if it was described with a single word. Sarf had spent years ensuring she was taken seriously, losing her slow accent and carrying herself to lessen the natural ponderous gait of ursidains.

All gone at the first hint that she might get to try human food.

"Told y-"

"Shut up."

Tip Jar

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #5

take a nap with me.

please don't go.

you talk too much.

don't bother with any male chauvinistic compliments.

such disdain can not and must not be tolerated.

my handwriting is so bad, sometimes i think i should've been a doctor.

i wouldn't say no to getting lost with you.

we've got the element of surprise on our side.

i had to carry you for a while. it wasn't pretty.

anything broken?

i'm very impressed with you.

drinks all around!

now what is that supposed to mean?

i guess freedom is purely relative.

can you repeat that? i wasn't listening.

i'm not a threat. i won't hurt you.

what sort of trouble are you looking for?

when you're ready, we can get out of here.

i couldn't find your gun.

well, i thought you might be a little angry.

oh don't tell me. let me guess.

keep that thing away from me.

glad you think i'm hot... i guess.

hope that wasn't a family heirloom.

how has work been?

i don't think the world is full of criminals and full of murderers. it's full of nice people.

it could happen to anyone.

is your head clear yet?

will you go find yourself another suspect?

don't ask me any questions. i'm calling my attorney.

i'm trying to watch the game!

that's been known to happen.

i could wait.

can i ask a personal question?

how can i be angry looking at you?

i don't want to cut down on my standard of living.

don't catch a cold out there. wear a jacket.

you sure do know how to work a crowd.

what brought you here tonight?

i don't think you care too much.

that was... unexpected.

are you in charge of this mess or not?

this isn't what it looks like.

i just go where they tell me to.

i hope this isn't a bad time.

do you see something wrong?

here's your scarf. you dropped it.

i miss the way you used to touch me.

that's a stupid idea.

did it rain last tuesday?

can i sit in this?

that's not my problem.

did you have anything specific that you wanted to talk to me about?

i'm beginning to be very fond of you.

i didn't realize i drank that much.

may our enemies never be as happy as we are at this moment.

if you wait a while, we can go home together.

screw the rest of them. make them squirm.

that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.

i meant to do that.

everybody is a suspect.

it's noble of you to come galloping to the rescue.

i know that. you told me.

you see, artists are very, very delicate.

you'll always have everything.

there's just one more thing i need to ask you...

can i use your phone?

i wasn't snooping.

can i take you out to dinner? my treat.

isn't that peculiar?

thanks for stopping by.

i usually don't drink anything i can't pronounce.

i just don't want anybody else to have it.

mind if i smoke?

what do you think of this?

i really appreciate your taking the time to chat with me.

why do all these people feel that they know me?

i can't tell you what a big help you've been.

as you travel through life, you'll encounter many barriers to happiness.

you're safe. i promise. i'm right here.

over my dead body.

that must have been very hard, losing someone you love like that.

this didn't need to happen.

i must have your name.

what's the matter? did i scare you?

what did you pay for those shoes?

i'm not very good on details, that's why i write everything down.

you didn't have a fight or anything, did you?

i've never met anyone quite like you. can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

are you still with me?

i guess it slipped your mind.

let's go inside. we'll be more comfortable.

do you mind if i grab a blanket? it's freezing in here.

just for the record, i love you.

maybe you should take the couch tonight.

maybe it would help if i knew where i was taking you.

[jackoshadows]

The Return of Ta-Nehisi Coates

A decade after "The Case for Reparations," he is ready to take on Israel, Palestine, and the American media.

It is in the last of these long, interconnected essays that Coates aims for the sort of paradigm shift that first earned him renown when he published "The Case for Reparations" in The Atlanticin 2014, in which he staked a claim for what is owed the American descendants of enslaved Africans. This time, he lays forth the case that the Israeli occupation is a moral crime, one that has been all but covered up by the West. He writes, "I don't think I ever, in my life, felt the glare of racism burn stranger and more intense than in Israel."

He was astonished by the plain truth of what he saw: the walls, checkpoints, and guns that everywhere hemmed in the lives of Palestinians; the clear tiers of citizenship between the first-class Jews and the second-class Palestinians; and the undisguised contempt with which the Israeli state treated the subjugated other. For Coates, the parallels with the Jim Crow South were obvious and immediate: Here, he writes, was a "world where separate and unequal was alive and well, where rule by the ballot for some and the bullet for others was policy." And this world was made possible by his own country: "The pushing of Palestinians out of their homes had the specific imprimatur of the United States of America. Which means that it had my imprimatur."

That it was complicated, he now understood, was "horseshit.""Complicated" was how people had described slavery and then segregation. "It's complicated," he said, "when you want to take something from somebody."

What matters to Coates is not what will happen to his career now — to the script sales, invitations from the White House, his relationships with his former colleagues at The Atlantic and elsewhere. "I'm not worried," he told me, shrugging his shoulders. "I have to do what I have to do. I'm sad, but I was so enraged. If I went over there and saw what I saw and didn't write it, I am fucking worthless."

The first inkling that Coates might want to write about Israel came around the time he was leaving The Atlantic. He was partly spurred by criticism he'd received over a passage in "The Case for Reparations" in which he cited reparations paid by the German government to the State of Israel after the Holocaust as a potential model. "We did an event when 'Case for Reparations' came out, at a synagogue in D.C., and I remember there was a woman who got on the mic and yelled about the role of Palestinians in that article," he told me. "And I couldn't quite understand what she was saying. I mean, I heard her, but I literally could not understand it. She got shouted down. And I've thought about that a lot, man. I've thought about that a lot." It hadn't occurred to him that Israel might itself be in the debt of a population that it had oppressed, a blind spot that remains a source of regret to this day. "I should have asked more questions," he told me. "I should have done more. I should have looked around and said, 'Do we have anybody Palestinian who's going to read this before we print it?'"

On the ground in the occupied territories, he saw the segregated roads, the soldiers with their American-made weapons, the surveillance cameras, and the whole archipelago of impoverished ghettos. "I felt a mix of astonishment, betrayal, and anger," he writes. "The astonishment was for me — for my own ignorance, for my own incuriosity … The betrayal was for my colleagues in journalism — betrayal for the way they reported, for the way they'd laundered ethnic cleansing, for the voices they'd erased. And the anger was for my own past — for Black Bottom, for Rosewood, for Tulsa — which I could not help but feel being evoked here."

One of his first encounters with the Israeli state is a soldier stopping him on the street to ask him his religion, a confusing question for an atheist. It becomes clear that if he does not give the correct answer — "Jew," "Christian," anything but "Muslim" — he will not be allowed to pass. "On that street so far from home," he writes, "I suddenly felt that I had traveled through time as much as through space. For as sure as my ancestors were born into a country where none of them was the equal of any white man, Israel was revealing itself to be a country where no Palestinian is ever the equal of any Jewish person anywhere."

In Coates's eyes, the ghost of Jim Crow is everywhere in the territories. In the soldiers who "stand there and steal our time, the sun glinting off their shades like Georgia sheriffs." In the water sequestered for Israeli use — evidence that the state had "advanced beyond the Jim Crow South and segregated not just the pools and fountains but the water itself." In monuments on sites of displacement and informal shrines to mass murder, such as the tomb of Baruch Goldstein, who gunned down 29 Muslims in a mosque in 1994, which recall "monuments to the enslavers" in South Carolina. And in the baleful glare of the omnipresent authority. "The point is to make Palestinians feel the hand of occupation constantly," he writes. And later: "The message was: 'You'd really be better off somewhere else.'"

By the time Coates returned to New York, Palestine was his obsession. Right away, he began sending work and research to group chats of various friends. "You wake up and Ta-Nehisi has overnight written four different walls of text and posted three different e-book screenshots and highlighted things," Ewing told me. "We have probably talked about Palestine pretty much every day since returning." Later that summer, just after he returned to the U.S., Coates introduced himself to the Palestinian American historian Rashid Khalidi at Columbia, who invited Coates and his wife to dinner to discuss his trip. "I think he felt that he had been conned," Khalidi told me. "And I think he felt he had to — I don't think atone is the right word, but make up for what he had mistakenly believed." So Coates began his education in earnest with Khalidi guiding him through the literature in a running dialogue that lasted months. It was a process not dissimilar to his preparation for "The Case for Reparations": Coates leaned on friends, family, and experts, Jews and Arabs and others, to stress-test and expand his ideas. "He's a very public learner," Ewing said.

While The Atlantic has certainly published some dissenting views in these areas, the central pillars of its perspective are unshakable. In November 2023, as Israeli forces were beginning their decimation of Gaza, Yair Rosenberg predicted that a new moral authority in Israel would rise from the rubble of Netanyahu's failures. Amid news of Israel bombarding schools and hospitals, the magazine's April cover story, by Franklin Foer, claimed that the left's sympathetic response to the October 7 attack had augured the end of "a golden age" for Jews in America. In May, in an article quibbling with the U.N.'s estimate of the death toll in Gaza, Graeme Wood wrote, "It is possible to kill children legally, if for example one is being attacked by an enemy who hides behind them." When Hamas murdered six Israeli hostages in late August, Foer wrote a wrenching obituary for one of the victims, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, treatment that is rarely afforded to Palestinians who have been killed in the conflict. And as student protests against the ongoing assault on Palestinian civilians took hold across the U.S., The Atlantic applied a full-court press: The demonstrations were "heartless" (David Frum), "oppressive" (Michael Powell), "threatening" (Judith Shulevitz).

[katerinaaqu]

Yk those 12 maids that were hanged at the end of Book 22 of the Odyssey? I've seen some people say they helped the suitors of their own accord, but others that they were kinda forced / even raped? Ik there was the obvious power dynamic but one of them (Melantho) seemed pretty accepting to me? Or maybe that was my translation or that was just her experience? So sorry for the long ask! I really respect your opinions and wanted to hear your thoughts :) Also ive heard some people use slave instead of maid, do u think this is accurate? sorryyyy and thank

Oh please not at all! the longer the better! Heheh please do not apologize it is not long at all! And I feel honored that you asked me this question and you say that you want to hear my thoughts on that! In my turn I apologize if my reply is long!

***

Well it makes sense that many people would assume they were forced given their lower status in the house. In theory if they were unwilling they wouldn't be able to resist the suitors and they would be raped by them. But in my opinion there are more than plenty of signs to see this is not the case:

As you brilliantly stated, Melantho is very much okay with it. In fact she gains insolence from her relationship with her lover and becomes more rude and more proud even against the guests at the house and she openly mistreats Odysseus who is disguised as a beggar. There was no sign of her disagreeing to it whatsoever. If anything Odysseus tries to talk some sense to her by trying to convince her to stop, which she mocks. Her example is also kinda like a general looking glass for the entire group of the women in the palace that said to have conspired with the suitors.

Odysseus spent several days in the palace observing the behaviors of others, making sure he could detect who was loyal to him and who was not. While being there he encountered many of his servants or slaves that were forced to do things for the suitors and his rage did not expand to them. For example Philoetius who had no choice but to herd the cows and the goats that the suitors often were demanding to slay and eat or even Eumaeus who was bringing the pigs. Phemius was one of them as well for he was singing entertaining the suitors but against his will and Telemachus vouched for him as well leading to Odysseus's mercy.

During the poem we do not see the verb "αναγκάσσω" which means "to force" or "to press to do something" while the relationships of those girls were brought upon the text.

It is also hinted that these women who also resided in the chambers of Penelope betrayed her secret and her scheme to keep the suitors at bay with the shroud of Laertes that was being destroyed every night.

So, all in all, their relationship is of course part of interpretation since there is an obvious power chasm between them and the lords of the Cephallinians however Homer pretty much clarifies that their relationship is consensual. Moreover they conspired with them and betrayed Penelope's secrets.

Now were these girls in love with the suitors? For Melantho that seems pretty clear but maybe not all of them are but maybe they hoped that if one of them were to marry Penelope, the rest of them might consider them as their partners so perhaps they would accquire their freedom or independance? Take this hypothesis of mine with a grain of salt but if not for all of them to be in love with the suitors I am sure their relationship was consensual, just for different reasons other than love. Now were they played for fools by the suitors? That could also be possible if the suitors promised them marriage or freedom or whatever just to have their fun with them however by n large Homer gives them full responsibility for their actions.

And as I said before, Odysseus observes their actions. If he had seen them being pulled by force or being hestant, he would have spared their life like he did to the musician Phemius.

***

Now for the last question often they are just called as "women in the megaron/palace" however more often whatnot they are called "δμῳαί" which is a very specific term used for "slave accquired at war" and it is used for females. So yes they are slaves-prices that they were accquired during some war or some sort of transaction. So they were either given to Odysseus as price for some battle (similar to the thing we see in the Iliad like Chriseis or Briseis for Agamemnon and Achilles respecfully) or they were accquired at war by someone else and given to Odysseus as a gift or as an exchange.

Therefore technically both of the terms are correct and one can use them at exactly the same time. They are slave girls that were accquired by Odysseus one way or another, probably in battle or for some thing he did and they work as maids at the palace. The same status seems to be held by other figures who are loyal to Odysseus such as Euryclea (a slave woman who had the duty of nursemaid to Odysseus) and Eumaeus who is working as swine herd to him. And Odysseus had 50 of those slave women in his palace and all the loyal slaves to him embraced him in happiness when he came back which is perhaps an indicator that Odysseus was not a cruel master to them so even if in theory the slave girls would have no reason to be loyal to Odysseus it seems there is no reason for them to betray him either which is what seals their fate while others who remained loyal to him not only were spared but were also rewarded (see Eumaeus and Philoetius for instance)

I hope that helps! ^_^

[butterflydm]

ever onward in our DAV adventure...

I'm on such a high with this game right now.

The romantic scenes I've gotten to do with Lucanis so far have made me very giggly and happy while I was playing through them. And Neve approves of our romance. <3

My next big main quest made me SO happy! Delightful, delightful! I really do love the quest & flow design of DAV and, even though I have to admit to some protectiveness/defensiveness over DAI (it was my first Dragon Age game), I think that DAV improved on it in several ways. I feel like the tension of the main storyline is a lot stronger here than it was in DAI post-Skyhold. The open world was just... too open in DAI, imo. Pulling back and making it more controlled in DAV (plus eliminating collection quests entirely except for the one) was a good game design decision.

When we got stuck in Elgar'nan's trap and then Rook heard SOLAS reaching out through the thinned Veil to help us through! I was just eating up the conversation between Elgar'nan and Solas as we fought our way through to save the Dalish. This game has been giving me so much great lore and I am loving it to pieces. Sneaking through the Venatori camp was... definitely illuminating on their mindset. They want old Tevinter back again, and the since the old Tevinter gods were actually the servants of the old elven gods...

Also... we're gonna have to kill that big-ass dragon that Elgar'nan just summoned (and then fed the Venatori to after we freed the elves) so... you know. That's coming.

Had a great conversation with Solas afterwards (Rook has officially earned his respect) and we got a bit of him talking with some regretful longing about the Inquisitor after we got a bit of her doing the same in our earlier meeting, so that was sweet (I set them up as having romanced in DAI so I could get any potential extra dialogue). Rook called Solas out on his pride, and we really did get to see a big difference between Solas and Elgar'nan -- Solas knows how to apologize and realizes it when he screws up. Which was true in DAI as well -- if you took the high approval route with him, he's way more conflicted about his ending choices, because he realizes that his initial assumptions about people post-Veil were incorrect. If you prove him wrong, he admits to being wrong.

Solas also gave a pretty clear 'endgame approaching' warning in the game, in the sense of saying that our next encounter with the gods is likely to be our last chance, so my next priority is to finish up any character or region quests, to get everyone as prepped as possible for the next big fight. Companions were my first priority, to try to get them all up to Hero of the Veilguard status alongside Harding.

So, companion updates:

Harding - already a Hero of the Veilguard, but I had a really good conversation with her after the Solas convo, where she expressed how glad she was that she had friends to help her past feeling the weight of the Titans' pain on her shoulders and how she believes that Solas can be saved too. Okay, I definitely need to go with an Inky who doesn't believe that Solas can be saved in my next run, because I'm very curious how her opinion might change if Inky thinks Solas needs to be stopped as opposed to saved! (I'm wondering if it's like how Varric's approval during Mages/Templars choice in DAI depends on what Hawke chose in DA2). Harding firmly believes that Lavellen could save Solas from trapping himself in his regrets and bad choices if given the chance. So it's possible we might have a Solas/Inky happy ending waiting at the end of the game if we play our cards right. Maybe. We'll see! Depends on Solas and his stubbornness, really.

Taash - I wanted to finish up them next, to see if that moved the Taash/Harding romance forward. We've gotten some hints and flirting here and there and it's been very cute. During the quest to take care of the Stormrider dragon, Taash asked Harding about her mom, and they had some good mom-related conversations.

Taash's personal quest really tugged at the heartstrings (I shed a few tears, for sure). I had Taash leaning towards being more Rivani and their mom wasn't a big fan of that. And was confused about Taash being non-binary. And now Taash has to struggle with the pain of never getting to have that big conversation where the two of them work it out. And that's hard but also... really true to life at times. It felt very honest.

Taash's personal quest also crystallized something I was trying to say before about the themes of the game -- for some of the characters, it's not sins of the past so much as the struggle with the weight of your culture and the baggage that it brings. That's become more clear as we've gone through each quest. Because that was definitely Taash, who is torn between two cultures, Rivani or Qunari -- one culture that stresses personal freedoms and is chill about magic and spirits, and the other one which stresses authoritarianism and control and is definitely not chill about magic or spirits. And you can certainly take from both in some ways but there are other ways that the two cultures contrast so strongly that you have to pick one.

But we've had other characters struggling with issues brought about because of their cultural background -- like Bellara, who is dealing with ancient elven history in the form of her brother accepting an offer to serve one of the Forgotten Ones of elven lore; or Harding dealing with the cultural weight of all of the grief and anger of the murdered Titans, and Davrin needing to deal with the 'whatever it takes to win' cultural background of the Wardens coming back around again in the form of the Gloom Howler. The regrets of the past. So... similar to what I was saying before, but slightly modified.

In lighter news: matchmaking successful!

Emmrich - We killed Johanna and destroyed the lantern, but this was a really tough quest on an emotional level. We just lost Taash's mom in the previous quest and then I had to make the call to save Manfred or encourage Emmrich to let him go and move forward into lichdom. And it was a really difficult choice! For this specific Rook, I encouraged him to become a lich but, wow, I was torn. But it is Emmrich's dream, and when we spoke about it... it's clear that it's what he wants. And Manfred isn't any more dead than he was before, since he was always a wisp inhabiting a body. He just won't be... inhabiting anymore. But, yeah. A tough one. Taash got Hero of the Veilguard status at the end of their quest, but Emmrich didn't get it here. Either he'll get it when he becomes a lich, or picking lichdom means that he doesn't get it. I guess I'll find out.

All throughout this, I would go back to the Lighthouse between each mission and run into delightful conversations between my companions. I really love how lively and dynamic it feels like the Lighthouse is. People are always moving around and talking to each other. <3

I moved some other companion missions forward but haven't completed them yet -- I need to do the next story mission in Treviso to complete Lucanis's personal mission, and Neve's mission next goes to the Cobbled Swan, where the Inquisitor awaits for a second check-in (excited to see her again! She's not ~exactly~ my Inky, of course, but you can't distill dozens of hours of characterization into a dozen lines, so I wasn't expecting that). I have some final tie-ups for Taash and Harding, plus the Lichdom ceremony for Emmrich, and I've moved forward to the next steps on Davrin and Bellara's quests.

Speaking of Bellara's questline, this hit me HARD after my recent decision to go no-contact with my brother:

Yeah, that's gonna be a rough one, especially if we have to kill her brother.

My next quest is going to be helping put to rest the souls of the Rivani mages murdered by Templars during DAI (we found a heartbreaking codex entry about this at the time).

[pacific-rimbaud]

(this is not to fix or invalidate how you feel at all!!) but my jaw dropped seeing that there were hate threads?? on the dramione reddit i see laoha constantly mentioned in a "what will fill this laoha shaped hole after finishing", "where else can i find platinum tier banter like this" way and not one bad word to say. i'm so sorry to hear there was hate and that it affected you, your writing comes across so confident and well-seasoned but ofc you're human too. keep on rockin pac!! we ADORE you!!

Oh, geez. Fandom-ancient discourse under the cut.

For anyone who's newish, back when laoha was publishing (end of 2019 to end of 2021) it was a thing on Facebook and Reddit to have several threads a week soliciting negative comments about specific fics. It was often phrased as a question like, "Which fic did you DNF and why?" or "What turns you off of a fic?" but sometimes it was more like, "I hated [whatever fic], does anyone else feel the same way?" And then people would proceed to drag the shit out of works and writers. I was by NO MEANS the only person impacted, although I may have had the highest ratio of hate to actual readership. Writers made it super clear that it was hurtful, that they no longer felt able to participate in fandom spaces because of the negativity, entitlement and cruelty, and people would tell them to grow a tougher skin. I mostly stayed out of it at the time, because discourse is always awful and pointless and I'm a pretty small potato in a spectacularly huge fandom. Also, it's the internet, and effective moderation is hard work. Thankfully Reddit made the decision to ban those threads, and hopefully it's become a more welcoming community as a result. Which is really my entire point. There is a human being behind every single fic a reader encounters, whether it's the top-fic-by-kudos masterpiece that nothing will ever equal or a palate cleansing speed read or whatever. Overwhelmingly those people are also readers who often want to engage in the community aspect of fandom. At that time, human beings who wrote for fun in their free time were going . . . this is incredibly hurtful, please stop, and some readers were effectively saying, on a constant basis, fuck you, shut up and give me more 100k+ fic written exactly to my personal tastes. Publishing my wildly uneven first-ever novel-length work with an unpopular Hermione in that climate was not a great experience for me, and it took its toll. Enough time has passed that I've mostly been able to sift through, take what helps me and leave the rest. Like: I will NEVER write miscommunication again! I'm also SO grateful to hear that some communities have chosen to take responsibility for shaping not just the tone but the values of their spaces. It was the right thing to do and too long in coming. Hopefully new DHr writers feel embraced and supported if they choose to engage in fandom social media. It should be fun. I honestly don't know what any of us are doing here if it's not.

That is not what you asked for, anon, but there you have it: ancient discourse that I hope has become irrelevant. I'm so glad to hear people are being kind!