#what a massacre. so much heartbreak

[ardate]

hi random ask coming through look around you what's the closest item you have there that you want to talk to me about. like a cool poster or a mug or something!!!!!!

Saw your post when I was in my kitchen, and this was the coolest item next to me, resting on my shelf.

What looks like a simple tiny vase of some sort, is actually a shell from the first world war. Soldiers would recuperate shells that had fallen all around on the battlefield, empty them of any remaining gunpowder, and use them to create art - carving intricate decorations as a way to pass time when they were stuck in the dug-outs for days.

Decorated shells are the most famous exemples of trench art.

At the bottom of this one you can see this specific shell was manufactured on september 1917, for infantry use (the grenade symbol on the right, as opposed to marine or anti-air use for instance)

My friend gifted this to me after we spent a week visiting the area around Verdun last winter, as a strange sort of pilgrimage. It was odd and emotional, and this week felt like it lasted a month, but it was good.

[ladystoneboobs]

got prequels on the brain lately, and i think i can explain padme in rots, even if it might not be exactly what lucas was thinking of. see, it's not just that she loves her husband and wants to believe there must be still be some good in him, it's also that she is now not just anakin's wife, but the mother of his child(ren) too. like, literally about to pop right as obi-wan/yoda have decided anakin needs to be killed. she doesn't feel she can stay on coruscant anymore as a senator under the emperor's reign, she was already doubting doing that job as a working mom. then she learns the jedi have all been deemed traitors and their order outlawed, while she's carrying offspring very likely to be highly force sensitive since the force itself is pretty much the paternal grandfather there. so, she herself is a potential political target as someone who opposed palpatine's war efforts from the beginning in a more public way than bail organa or mon mothma, and her child(ren) would also be targeted just for existing as potential jedi before ever really using the force against the empire. being a single mom to outlawed and untrained but very powerful l'il jedi while the both of you are being targeted and hunted down on the run/in exile without the skills really needed to protect any jedi child, that's just a no-go. her only anti-palps and anti-anakin alternatives would have to include never being a mother after giving birth, whether going into exile alone somewhere or wearing a mask and playing the long game like bail organa. (even if he still adopted leia as in otl, how much time could she really spend with her without drawing more suspicion from palps? how painful would it be to watch someone else raise your child while possibly never even knowing if your other child is ok?) in that sense, knowing how wanted that unplanned pregnancy was, is it any wonder that she chose to make a last attempt to save their family instead? to run away with her husband, who happened to be the only man strong and powerful enough to protect them all from the empire, the only man she could trust and wanted to trust, with the safety of their whole unsplit secret little family. so it is only after he refuses to run away with her, when he insists that he's only interested in using his new dark powers to protect her, and when he reveals that his only idea of defying palpatine is to replace him, making padme into a new dark empress, a dictator rather than the public servant she once thought she could be, only then that she starts feeling he may just be lost to her after all. but when you've gone so far together already, brushing off his first massacre, marrying him mere days later, and then truly tying yourself to him permanently through pregnancy, it's really too late to ever go back to your ol' "normal" life either.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 35

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 32, part 33, part 34

“So, how’s living in the mansion?” Eddie asks. Stabbing at the Jello cup with a fork instead of trying to eat it.

“Don’t think it’s officially a mansion. It’s just a big house.”

Eddie looks at him skeptical. “Same thing.”

In all fairness, it hasn’t been all that bad. It’s been an adjustment, sure. Any move would do that. Especially one where he barely knew the roommate. But he’s been sleeping better than he has for weeks. Been taking better care of himself. Can do laundry without carting himself to the laundromat and shelling out a handful of quarters. There’s a kitchen where he can start cooking in again. A real couch to sit on and a table to eat at. He forgot how much he missed stuff like that.

“It’s fine,” he says. Really downplaying it.

Eddie nods, seeing through all of Wayne’s bullshit. His stubborn air to automatically dislike anything that he didn’t do or buy himself.

“And living with Steve?” Eddie asks with hesitation.  

Steve keeps to himself well. Gets up for work and leaves peacefully. Never making a big fuss, or really alerting Wayne that he’s there too much. He’s quiet. A little too quiet sometimes.

Sometimes Wayne will wake up and there’s coffee waiting for him in the kitchen. One time he walked in after a shift and Steve left him some food in the fridge. And there’s always a note on the kitchen island letting Wayne know where he is. So, there’s nothing to worry about.

“Also fine,” Wayne responds.

Eddie almost sighs a breath of relief. Like he was hoping Wayne would like Steve. Would get along with him without a fuss. Like he hasn’t been more than cordial with Steve ever since Eddie woke up. They’ve already gotten along better that Wayne would have guessed.

But there was another layer to this. Wayne can approve of Steve as a friend, he certainly seems capable of doing that. The more that Eddie is secretly wanting though, that he’s not so sure.

Steve’s a fine kid. Just one with a reputation. Heartbreaker of Hawkins High. The one that every girl wanted to be with. Who got with everyone he could. It could be an exaggeration. It could be a bunch of bullshit rumors. Wayne wouldn’t, or really want, to know. Steve’s personal life is his personal life. He’s not inclined to share it.

But if that personal life comes back around and hurts his boy. Well, Steve should know what would happen about that.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eddie suddenly averts his eyes. Finally eating the now massacred Jello.

“Because I know you, and I’ve seen this look before. Didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now.”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Because he does. But it wouldn’t hurt for him to be wrong sometimes.

“No, you don’t.” Eddie slams the Jello down on his tray as hard as he can. Just letting gravity assist him in making a point. He looks at Wayne with that anger in his eyes that Wayne would really like to avoid.

They don’t need the first disagreement they have since Eddie’s accident to be in a hospital.

“Alright then,” Wayne backs down. “How’s the physical therapy going?”

That starts a new rampage. But one with frustration not directed at Wayne. The doctor taking the fall of what Wayne started. Eddie getting frustrated at the way his limbs keep failing to do the things he once was able to. The way they stiffen up when he strains them too much. Or how the pain can just start shooting through and never stop. Not just for hours, maybe a day or two. Where the pain meds can’t seem to dull them enough where Eddie can stop thinking about it.

It's hard to watch. Has been and will continue to be. There probably won’t be a day where Eddie will be the way he used to. Constantly in some sort of pain. Reminded of the moment his life changed forever.

The visiting hours end, and Wayne has to leave. It never gets easier, leaving. Just marks another tally of the endless line of days Eddie’s been in the hospital. It seems endless, anyway. Even with the talks of being discharged, it still feels like there’s no hope.

He tries to find it. Tries to keep the candle lit for more than a few seconds. It doesn’t always work. But he’s trying.

No matter how many times Wayne opens the front door of the Harrington house, it still doesn’t feel real. He’s been staying there for a week now, and each time the key slides into the lock, it feels like a dream. Or a really cruel prank.

But it’s real. All of this is.

“If you get more flour in my hair, I swear to God,” Steve’s voice echoes down the hall.

“Well than stop making it so easy for me,” Robin’s voice, if Wayne’s remembering correctly, follows.

He unties his boots and places them on the floor mat by the front door. Being very careful to follow the one major rule that Steve had when it came to the house. It was easy enough to follow. He wanders down the hall and into the kitchen. Walking into a mess. Different measuring cups and spoons scattered around the island, small piles of flour and other dry ingredients surrounding it. A pile of dishes in the sink. The slight smell of something that was burnt.

Honestly, he likes it better this way. Reminds him of home.

“Hi, Mr. Munson,” Robin chirps. Eating chocolate chips right out of the bag.

“Oh hey,” Steve looks up from bowl he was mixing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Wayne nods hello. “What are you making?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” Steve explains, looking toward Robin. “Because someone wanted cookies but didn’t want to do it herself.”

“We didn’t have any chocolate chips in the house,” Robin shrugs. Pouring another handful of chips into her mouth.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Didn’t believe it the first time and I don’t believe it now.”

He turns around to grab the baking sheets, leaving an opportunity for Robin to steal the spatula out of the bowl. Helping herself to raw cookie dough. Steve sighs when he turns around.

“Shouldn’t you also be scared of salmonella, Miss ‘Rabies is like my number one biggest fear?’” he snarks, searching in the drawer for an ice cream scoop.

“Rabies and salmonella are two very different things.” Robin continues to eat the batter off of the spoon. “How’s Eddie?” she asks, directed toward Wayne.

“Better,” he says with more confidence than he feels. Not being able to ignore the way Steve perks up when Eddie’s name is mentioned.

“That’s good,” Steve says. The gentle click of the ice cream scoop filling the break of silence.

Wayne nods. Feeling the need to cross his arms. “Yeah. The doctor says if he keeps his progress steady over the next week, he should be able to come home.”

Steve and Robin look at him with mirrored hope.

“That-that’s really good,” Steve smiles. “It’ll be nice seeing him outside of the hospital.”

“And hiding,” Robin adds. Throwing the spatula in the sink.

Wayne nods. Still feeling out the awkwardness of these interactions. “I’m going to turn in, just wanted to say hello.”

“Let us know if we’re being too loud. I can always kick her out.”

“Hey.” Robin slaps Steve’s arm.

“Night,” Wayne leaves the room. Swallowing a laugh.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[saschuv]

I desperately want to know how Fugaku and Mikoto would have reacted to how Sasuke was treated after the massacre. Same with Shisui actually.

I wonder if they would have accepted death the same way or instead would have fought Itachi had they know the fate waiting for Sasuke.

Neither fugaku or mikoto fought itachi as one they couldn’t bring themselves to harm their child. But secondly because as their dying wish, itachi promised he would look after Sasuke. And what did he go and do? Torture this boy beyond comprehension. He never needed to go that far. Sasuke witnessed the Uchiha massacre at the hands of the brother he loved more than anyone over 500,000 times. At the age of seven… he is torn away from everything he loves because of his brother, I think that’s enough to make someone hate another. The extra step with the tsukuyomi really was not necessary. And twice?! Uh huh… it shouldn’t be surprising itachi wouldn’t respect the dying wish of his mother and father considering that atrocities he committed against them already. But it’s still heartbreaking. Idk if I were Mikoto or Fugaku I’d be pissed. And I wonder what Shisui would think. Not only for itachi to kill the whole clan, but then his future crimes too against both Sasuke and as a criminal. Shisui is slightly more complicated as he didn’t support the coup and wanted to protect Konoha like Itachi. But Itachi took it so much further.

The Uchiha clan are the clan of love. They do everything for their family. For itachi to do this is a complete disregard for their culture and everything they stand for and feel. Idk if I were an Uchiha, I’d be appalled.

Just had some thoughts about this and how Itachi completely disregarded his parents’ sacrifice

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

In a Perfect World, You Love Me [i]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: injury, mentions of blood, cursing, derogatory name calling, forced drug exposure, hallucinations, light smut, angst, and some angst, and a little more angst just to top it off (actually this isn’t nearly as heartbreaking as some stuff i’ve written before lol), self doubt, anxiety, also cobb vanth is here. it’s not a warning but i love him so i wanted to mention it.🤷🏻‍♀️

word count: 6,961

Summary: On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

a/n: bitches be planning out short drabbles about heart break only for it to turn into a long wordy mess. it’s me. i’m bitches. anybody know the show supernatural? it’s a show about like dramatic ass sad brothers who travel the country fighting monsters? (i know you know i’m being sarcastic). i watched that one episode where the djinn puts dean in like a dream world and it inspired this. i wanted to name it ‘din djarin’s djinn dream’ but that seemed a bit too on the nose.

.

“sometimes it is not love that breaks your heart. it is disappointment.”

-r.m. drake

.

Grogu was safe. That was the first thought that came to mind. You were so incredibly grateful that Mando had decided to leave the small child with Peli at the shop. It had been a last minute call. Weirdly, you were also thankful that you hadn’t stayed behind. You nearly did. Traveling through the Dune Sea was an absolutely miserable experience between the heat and the sand. It would have been so much more comfortable to just sit in the shop, cuddle with Grogu, and watch Peli con her customers.

However, when Mando mentioned he was going to Mos Pelgo you jumped at the chance to visit Cobb Vanth. It had been ages since you last saw the man, and you were eager to catch up with the marshal. So you climbed onto Mando’s rented land speeder, wrapped your arms around his beskar armor, and the two of you set off. What was supposed to be a simple day trip to greet an old friend and ask for a favor turned into a Maker forsaken nightmare.

Your face was throbbing in pain, you tasted blood in your mouth, and you were fairly certain your right wrist was broken based on the swelling and discoloration. Despite all of that, despite the pain and fear, the thought occurred to you once more. You were so thankful you were here. 

“How pathetic.” The smuggler cackled amongst his small crew. “You’re going to protect the Mandalorian from us? You dumb bitch.”

Five dangerous men stood at the rim of the pit you were trapped in while Mando laid motionless behind you. There was a bit of blood pooling from out of the bottom of his helmet, onto the sand, and the only comfort you had that Mando was still with you was the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

The smugglers had set a trap that Mando and you had fallen right into. As your land speeder tripped a wire it caused a blast that had both of you falling into a pit. The damned thing was deep enough to leave both of you injured and you prayed that your injuries were worse than Mando’s and he was just out cold for a moment. Your attackers began to argue amongst one another and you stayed on high alert. Mando and you were fish in a barrel. They could rain blaster fire down on you and there would be nothing you could do about it. The only reason you hadn’t grabbed Mando’s blaster to fire up is because you didn’t want to trigger a massacre.

“Shoot her dead then climb down and collect the beskar. Easy.” One smuggler scoffed and pulled out his blaster. You flinched but the loudest of the men, the leader, shoved the blaster’s aim away from you. “What?”

“The moment we try and get off world we’re gonna get stopped by those damned pirates again.” He snapped. “We keep the girl alive and hand her over as the tax we pay to pass free. We keep all the Mandalorian’s armor to ourselves.”

“Who’d want a bitch over beskar?”

“Oh, trust me.” The lead smuggler chuckled and the sound made you cringe. You set your hand in Mando’s gloved one and wished more than anything his grip would tighten around you rather than stay limp. “I know the man running the show right now, and he’s got a weakness for pretty little things.”

You tried to hide the tremble that shook your frame and you whispered for Mando to wake up⏤ for him to hear you. The lead smuggler opened his bag and you grasped Mando’s blaster. As threateningly as you could manage, you barked out. “You come down here and I’ll kill you. You hear me?!”

“Aw, she’s got some bite. Maybe we should keep her instead.”

“Shut the hell up.” The lead snapped and continued to root through his bag. “Where the kriff is that damned spice bomb?” Your eyebrows furrowed. Spice was bad news. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to touch. You had seen what the addiction could do to people, and you had a very bad feeling about what a spice bomb would be. “There it is.”

Panic hit you, and you lifted the blaster to start firing but the leader tossed a glowing red ball down into the pit and the smugglers dove away from the hole. The ball exploded mid way down into a cloud of red dust that rained down on you and Mando. You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the bottom of your shirt, but it was to no avail. Your entire body grew heavy, collapsing on top of Mando’s chest, and a sharp, tingling sensation washed over you before your eyes fell shut.

Din woke with a start⏤ panting and desperate for air. His mind was filled with a heavy fog that he tried to swim through to gather his bearings. There had been a wire. Din noticed it much too late and he remembered the ground swallowing you and him whole. You. Your scream was the last thing he could recall. 

His hands drifted to his face and Din hated that it was only then that he noticed he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He blamed the fog. Din scrambled about the soft bed he realized he was tucked into as he searched the space around him for his armor. Din was in a bedroom he didn’t recognize wearing only a pair of sleep pants. Dank farrik. Din leapt out of bed but stumbled rather than landed with any amount of grace. Where was he? Where were you?? 

He forced himself to take a steadying breath and centered himself. 

The bedroom was small. Only a large bed, a clothing dresser, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. The walls were painted a soft blue, two doors leading out, and one wall had a window that spanned nearly the entire length of the room. Din blinked in confusion. Outside was a bustling city with towering pillar-like buildings and early morning light spilling down through holes in the upper shelf casting light on a city that was very much alive. Din knew where he was. He just didn’t know how he got here or how this was even possible.

“Sundari?” He breathed in shock. Din had only seen images of the cities of Mandalore. Sundari, the domed capital city, being the most infamous of all. This must have been a dream. Exactly how hard had he hit his head in the fall?

Din, in all his distraction, hadn’t even noticed the sound of running water until it stopped. He spun on his heel and stared at the door in the corner which must have led into a fresher. Din wasn’t alone. His hand snapped to his hip for his blaster but met air. Maker, he’d be happy when this concussion finally passed. He scanned the room for any kind of weapon he could use and as he grasped the nightstand drawer he froze. Sitting on top of the small table was a holo image being projected up from a disk as decor.

It was a photo of you and Grogu. Din narrowed his eyes at it in confusion. The two of you were at a park of some kind, but he couldn’t recall where or when this had occurred. The door opened, making Din jump in surprise. Fine, concussion or not, he’d fight his way out by hand. However, as if he couldn’t possibly be caught more off guard, you stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You stepped toward him and Din stayed frozen in place. Your hands came up to run across his bare chest before settling on his waist where you continued to trace your fingertips up and down in a repetitive pattern. There was so much happening at once that Din didn’t even know what to think. It didn’t help that the moment your skin touched his, his mind seemed to short circuit. “I was trying to let you sleep in for at least a little.”

Ever since you had confessed to him weeks ago that you wanted more than just a friendship Din had been plagued with dreams of you. Visions of you moaning under him as he buried himself into your warmth, of you riding his cock while his hands explored your body, of him simply holding you in his arms and memorizing your features unimpeded by his helmet. But never had it ever felt this real. 

“Din?” You tilted your head. Hearing his name from your lips, he shuddered. How was this happening? You staring up at his bare face and whispering his name in concern. 

Din tried to open his mouth and speak, but his voice had left him. When you confessed to him, it had taken every fiber of his being to not react. As much as he cared about you, as badly as he wanted you, he knew it was a bad idea. Din knew he had to draw a line to keep you safe. He was dangerous and Din knew it was selfish of him to keep you and Grogu around despite that. He always figured the two of you would go your separate ways when the jedi were found and Grogu was delivered, but Din would never be able to say good-bye to you if he crossed that line. So he lied. Told you he didn’t feel the same and walked away leaving you teary eyed and broken hearted. 

You frowned. Your eyebrows furrowed and he had the overwhelming urge to smooth out your brow with his fingers. Trace every inch of your face with his hands. “You look sad, love.” You lifted your hands to cup his face. “Did you have that nightmare again?”

“Wh⏤What?” Din’s voice was quiet and ragged.

“We’re safe now. You don’t have to worry.” You caressed his cheek. “Me, you, and Grogu. We’re all safe. We have a home. Our days of running are over.”

Din shook his head. “No, no. We were in the Dune Sea. I⏤I missed the trip wire and we fell. You were hurt. We⏤”

“Din, that was so long ago. Out of all the bantha shit we’ve dealt with I’m surprised that memory is the one plaguing you.” You said.

Din pulled out of your arms. “It wasn’t. It just happened. You’re lost⏤ You’re hurt. I have to⏤”

“I’m not lost. I’m not hurt. I’m safe, right here with you, in our home. Grogu is still sleeping down the hall. There’s no place safer for our son and I.” You set your hands on his chest once more. “Grogu with his buir, and I with my riduur.”

Din was so shocked by the Mando’a that left your lips that he didn’t even register the soft kiss you pressed in the middle of his chest. Right where his iron heart would be if he had his armor on. You stepped away from him, walking to the dresser off to the side, and Din watched you go until you let the towel fall from your body. He forced his gaze up to the ceiling to keep from staring. Something felt wrong. Was this a dream? Was he dead?

Din didn’t trust the world around him.

You startled awake. A cloud of panic and fear drowning you.

“Mando!?” The nickname left your lips before you even registered a thought. You scrambled to sit up, arms reaching out to try and find purchase, but it was too dark to see anything.  Even without your sight, something felt familiar about the material under your body and the comforting smell surrounding you, but the last memory of the smugglers dropping the spice bomb had too much adrenaline rushing through your body for you to think properly. 

The wall in front of you shot up with a metallic click and a light blinded you. Hands grabbed your calves and you screamed again trying to kick them off. “Mesh’la! You’re safe!” Mando’s modulated voice filled the air. “You’re on the Razor Crest. You’re in my bunk.”

Your eyes adjusted to the light and you recognized your setting. That’s why it was familiar. Mando’s scent surrounded you as you were nestled in the blankets and pillow he used to sleep. Standing at the bunk’s entrance was the Mandalorian himself. He looked unharmed, but he always looked unharmed when he was covered from head to toe in his beskar.

“Mando!” You cried in alarm and launched yourself at him. He didn’t complain when you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Mando simply held onto you and kept you from knocking him over. This should be awkward considering how he had bluntly said he felt nothing for you only weeks ago. But, you were so relieved that he was safe and alive that you didn’t care. His hands rubbed your back soothingly as he mumbled soft reassurances. “I thought you⏤ I thought we⏤”

“We’re safe, mesh’la.” Mando replied.

You leaned back and he kept his arms around you. “What happened? The last thing I remember…” It hurt to try and pull the memory out of your own head. Spice bomb. Red dust had rained over you and Mando. You passed out on top of him. “The⏤The bomb.”

“It knocked you out.” Mando said. “My helmet filtered it out, I think. I woke up with you on top of me and the smugglers were climbing down. We fought. I won. Then I carried you back to Peli’s.”

“All of that happened?”

“We’re in hyperspace now.”

“How,” You shook your head, “How long was I out?”

“Two days. The spice hit your systems hard. I was⏤” Mando cleared his throat, the sound scratchy through the modulator. “I was worried about you, mesh’la.”

It was only then you realized you still had your hands resting on his shoulders and he had his own wrapped around your waist as you sat on your knees⏤ the bunk making the two of you eye level. You swallowed nervously. “I, uh, it was you I was worried about. Your head. I thought I saw blood when you were out cold.”

“Small injury. Only took one round of bacta to clear up.”

“Good.”

“You, on the other hand,” Mando mumbled. He brushed his gloved fingers across your face. The touch lingered on your cheekbone. The same one that had hit the ground hard enough to make your face throb. Mando pulled his other hand away to wrap around your non-bruised and non-swollen wrist. How much bacta had he used to get all your injuries healed in two days? “Mesh’la, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “None of that was your fault.”

Mando kept quiet, as if he didn’t agree but didn’t know what else to say. The sound of a soft coo made you lean forward and peer around the edge of the bunk where Grogu was standing by the ladder leading up to the cockpit. He lifted his arms and waddled closer. Mando released you to pick the small child up. Grogu whined until Mando set him in your lap and you didn’t hesitate to cuddle the boy to your chest.

Thank the Maker, he hadn’t been with the two of you. You let out another sigh of relief. It seemed like you and Mando had gotten out of the pit by luck alone and you don’t know what you would’ve done if Grogu had been harmed during the whole thing.

“Here. Let’s get you some food.” Mando set a hand on your elbow to help you slide out of the bunk. What caught you off guard was when he let his hand travel from your arm to your lower back as he led you toward the ladder. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his entire frame. Mando was a good man. It wasn’t the shiny, silver metal of a Mandalorian you were attracted to or the reputation of a dangerous and strong bounty hunter. You had fallen for the kind and protective man who hid under both of those roles. Mando’s head turned to stare back at you and a thrill went down your spine. He whispered your name.

You took a step away and cleared your throat. Mando let his arm fall away. Your obsession with him, your stupid idiotic crush on him, had you misreading signals left and right. The only reason you had confessed was because you convinced yourself that he was shooting you lingering looks and that every brush of his hand against you was purposeful and not a mistake made in passing. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. Mando had made his position clear, and you were done crossing the lines and boundaries he had set.

“Can you get up to the flight deck alright?” Mando asked and you nodded. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Mando tilted his head toward the ladder and he waited until you began to climb⏤ as if he was worried you’d fall off mid-way up. When you got upstairs, you settled into the co-pilot’s chair with Grogu in your lap and stared out at the blurring lines of hyperspace. A small smile settled on your features.

The world around you was right again.

Din felt more like himself once he had his armor on. It still felt like the world around him was spinning and nothing made sense, but his beskar was like a heavy, impenetrable comfort blanket. He sat in a kitchen, helmet on, as he stared out at Sundari through a window that sat near a dining table. It seemed the home around him was part of a tower inside the domed city, and Din still couldn’t wrap his brain around that. The sound of footsteps startled him and he turned in time to see you padding down the hall with Grogu in your arms. He pushed to stand⏤ seeing the small child putting him at ease.

“Why do you have your helmet on?” You asked after handing Grogu to him. The child bounced in his arms chanting a recognizable sound asking for food. “Are you leaving already? Don’t you want breakfast?”

Din stayed quiet. You moved around the kitchen with the ease of someone who did this regularly, and he watched you make a meal. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt toward you being so domestic. Especially after you had just claimed that he was your partner, your husband, your riduur.

“Come here, cutie.” You cooed to Grogu and he let you take the boy from him. You set him in a little high chair and set a bowl of food in front of him. As per usual, Grogu didn’t hesitate to begin scarfing down what was in front of him. You lovingly pressed a kiss to his head then walked over to lean at the corner of the kitchen island next to him. “Din, please talk to me.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m sorry, Mesh’la.” He sighed. 

You had shifted even closer to the bar stool he sat on. Din tensed when your hands settled on his thighs and you stepped between them. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and began to peel his gloves off. Din sucked in a breath, but couldn’t find a complaint to speak. You did the same thing with his other hand. Finally, your hands rested on his helmet, but you didn’t move. Not until Din gave a small nod. You pulled his helmet off carefully, respectfully resting it on the counter, and Din felt his features soften as he stared at you. Maker, you were beautiful.

“Din, listen to me, I love you.” You said. A pretty smile spread across your features and you took his face between your hands. “But if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I am going to kick your ass.” He chuckled and leaned into your touch. Was Din losing his mind? If this was insanity, it felt so good that Din really didn't think he minded. “Are you… Are you having one of your mornings?”

“One of my… mornings?” Din furrowed his brow.

“You know, when the nightmare doesn’t end.” You whispered.

Din shook his head. “This isn’t a nightmare. It’s a dream. A dream I don’t deserve.” He let his hands rest on top of yours with the plan to pull them away, but he was too weak to actually go through with it. Din sighed, “I lied to you.” A flash of confusion crossed your features. “I said I didn’t care about you in the same way you felt about me, but it was a lie. From the moment you stepped onto the Razor Crest I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Mesh’la, you are my world.”

“Din, are you…” You paused then a small laugh left you, “Maker, are you talking about when we were trying to get to Mos Pelgo, still? I confessed to you and then we got caught weeks later and…” You shook your head. “Don’t scare me like that. When you said you were sorry and you lied, I was worried something had happened. It’s just a bad morning. They always pass.”

“What are you talking about?” Din asked.

“Fine. I’ll jump start your memory.” You pushed up on your tiptoes and then sat on his thigh. Naturally, his hands went around your waist to keep you from falling and your hands wrapped around his neck. “You confessed to me. It happened months later. You’re an incredible bounty hunter, but you move slow as hell, Din.” He narrowed his eyes. “It was right after we decided to keep Grogu with us. Become a real family. For the record, it also took you way too long to propose to me too.”

Din could picture it all and it made everything so much more confusing. Had that happened? No. Not yet. Yet? Had he meant to think of that word? Yet? Din wasn’t planning any of that, but it sounded right. No part of him thought he deserved you or Grogu, but Maker this was what he always wanted. It was the life he craved, but was too broken to admit aloud. 

“But,” Din tried to find a tether to hold him in reality, “Sundari. We live in Sundari? Mandalore is dead.”

“No, it wasn’t. The poison the Empire caused faded away. We rebuilt.” The sound of a door chime made you glance over your shoulder. “Kriff. She’s here early.” You slid off his lap. “Grogu, we’re gonna be late! Let’s get you cleaned up so Soran can walk you to school.”

Din watched you scoop Grogu up, the boy gave him a wave he returned numbly, and the two of you disappeared down the hall. Were his fears the reason he was confused? What if what you said was right? He was just trapped in a nightmare and it was keeping him from living his life. Din had finally taken the leap, taken the chance, and found his perfect home. Now, his fear was crawling back and trying to ruin it again. Din always did this. He always fought himself. It was why he had denied your initial confession and wasted so much time in the first place.

Moments passed, he could hear you moving around the home with Grogu. Until finally the door chime rang again. Din stood up and faced the hall. Seconds later, you stepped back into view. You gave him a bright smile. 

“Alright, where were we?”

Fully accepting this for what it was, Din marched toward you. Your feet came to a stuttering stop and an excitement filled your eyes. You knew what he was doing before even he knew entirely. Din basically tackled you, pressing your body as tight as he could to his chest, and crushed his lips to yours. You responded immediately. Your hands wrapping around his neck as his tongue found it’s way past your lips. Din let his hands trail down your back, over your ass, under your thighs, and with ease began to pick you up. Just like with the kiss, you were on the same page as he was. You jumped just enough for him to lift you off the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist⏤ locking your ankles at his back. 

Din had planned to carry you down the hall, back to the bedroom, but he felt you grind against him and that plan went right out the window. He slammed you against the wall, lips leaving yours to trail down your neck. Maker, he wanted you. Keeping you pinned to the wall with his hips, relying on your grip around his waist and neck, Din pulled his hands away so he could grab the collar of your shirt. He ripped it down to the middle of your torso so his mouth could reach your breasts.

“I liked that shirt, you know.” You gasped, but the way you kept trying to find friction against his hard on told him you didn’t like it all that much.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Din replied before leaving open mouth kisses down your chest. One hand went back to cup around your thigh and the other yanked your breast band down so his mouth could wrap around your nipple. The unholy moan that left your lips nearly made him come undone right then and there.

“You’re going to be late to work. They need you today.”

“Mesh’la, I don’t kriffing care.” Din said after pulling his lips away from your breast. His mouth found its way back to yours and after leaving a messy kiss there he pulled away only far enough to speak. “As far as I’m concerned the only place I’m needed is right between your thighs.” 

Din licked into your mouth, and he was startled when your hands untangled from around his neck. Then, with great proficiency, you began to unlatch his armor. His vambrace and left pauldron fell to the ground with a heavy thunk. “How did you do that so fast? How’d you know where the latches were?”

“I’m your wife, dummy.” You unlatched his right one, it joined the other on the floor, then you ripped the cloak out from under the top of his chest piece and pulled down on the collar of his shirt so you could leave too soft, teasing kisses against the hollow of his throat. “Now, either keep carrying me down the hall to our bed or drop me on the floor⏤ I don’t care, I just need you to fuck me.”

Din was not going to make it to the bedroom.

You rose from your seat with Grogu nestled in your arms sleeping. It hadn’t taken long for the boy to fall asleep between the warmth of your arms and the silence of hyperspace. As you drifted toward the door, Mando spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna put him in his hammock is all.” You whispered.

Mando glanced over his shoulder at you then nodded. “Good. Come back up when you’re done.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise but you gave him a quiet confirmation before leaving the cockpit. You made your way down the ladder slowly and carefully so you didn’t wake or drop the little green gremlin snoring against your chest. You chuckled and rubbed his back while crossing the cargo hold. When you set him in the hammock, he stirred briefly and you took the time to lightly rock the hammock while humming him a lullaby. Only when you were convinced he had fallen back into a restful sleep did you find your way back to the cockpit.

“He’s down for the count.” You joked and dropped back into your chair.

Mando flipped a few switches on the panel before spinning the pilot’s seat so he was facing you. Your eyes widened and you shifted awkwardly in place. The weight of his heavy stare on you was intense. It burned into you and for a brief second you were sure he could see straight into your soul.

“What’s going on?” You asked. “You okay?”

“I could’ve lost you.” Mando whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It’s over, Mando. We don’t have to think about it anymore.”

“It’s not over, mesh’la. There will always be another fight, another opportunity for someone to take you from me.” He argued. 

Mando wasn’t wrong. Your lives were a constant battle to maintain the upper hand over all the people trying to take Grogu and harm both of you. It was the exact reason why you had found the courage to confess to him in the first place. You stupidly convinced yourself that you didn’t want to lose anymore time⏤ waste another second. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing. You wanted so badly to break it, but you had no idea what to say to do so.

Luckily, Mando did not have that same problem.

“Come here, mesh’la.” He motioned you toward him with the curling motion of his fingers. You swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in the middle of your throat like a rock. “Please.” The word was spoken softly, but there was a firm undertone that made it feel less like a request and more like a command. You stood up and took the single shaky step that was required to put you in his reach. Mando’s hands found your hips and he startled you by pulling you into his lap. With a yelp of surprise, you were forced to rest your knees on the outside of his thighs. The moment you were situated Mando spread his own thighs further so each of your legs were pinned between him and the chair and you were even more open to him. “Oh, sweet girl…”

“Mando. What⏤ What are you doing?” You whispered. Your entire face felt hot⏤ kriff, every inch of you felt hot.

He shook his head, his hands roaming up and down your sides, “I never should have said no to you. What happened, it made me realize how much,” Mando raised a gloved hand to your face, “how much I care about you.”

“Wait, really?” You breathed. It was the stupidest kind of response to give and you hated that you just blurted it out. Mando chuckled in response, and you shook your head. “Mando, maybe you’re just… feeling this way because what happened was so fresh. We should give it a little time⏤”

“I spent two days waiting for you to open those pretty eyes for me, sweet girl.” Mando cut in. “I’m not losing another second with you.”

The hand fell from your face to rest on your shoulder and, with the other still on your hip, Mando pressed you down on top of him. He shifted his own hips so he could drag the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A sharp gasp of surprise left your lips. Mando kept you pressed against him and when he dragged his hip against yours again the sensation caused you to groan this time.

“Dank farrik.” Mando grunted as he bucked up against you⏤ this time you moved your own hips to add to the friction and he moaned. The sound of him losing control shot straight to your core and you let your hands rest on his chest so you could grind into him more. Maker, you wanted to hear that sound again.

Mando sat up straight and the only thing keep you from tumbling off his lap was the hand he wrapped around your waist. He reached past you, hands hitting switches and buttons, and suddenly the entire panel of flickering lights went dead. “Mando?” You questioned. He hit one more switch and you glanced over your shoulder to watch as the windows darkened until the lights of hyperspace couldn’t be seen. Nothing could be seen. A hiss of pressure release, then a hand took hold of your jaw to turn you back so you faced forward.

“Mesh’la.” Mando whispered. Before you had only heard his unmodulated voice from a distance, as he was eating out of sight or lying in his bunk with the door closed. But, now it was closer than you could ever imagine. He mumbled your name and you could feel the movement of his lips just barely brushing against yours⏤ his hot breath on your face. “Say you want me, mesh’la.”

You took in a deep breath and nodded. “I want you, Mando. I’ve always wanted you.”

Rather than pressing his lips to yours as you wanted, Mando lifted you with ease and pressed you against the control panel. Something sharp was jabbing you in the back, but you didn’t care. Mando’s leather gloves roughly yanked your pants down, underwear and all. You had lifted your hips just enough to help him, but when you lowered yourself back into a seated position you hissed at the cold metal against your bare skin. 

You lifted your hands to find his shoulders, you wanted to feel his face, but Mando’s hands grabbed you by the wrists and pinned them to the panel by your head. He leaned over you and slowly dragged his hard cock, hidden behind his flight suit, against your already dripping wet lips⏤ but it wasn’t the only lips you wanted touched.

“Kiss me, please.” You begged and tried to lift your head to find his, but he leaned back just enough to avoid you. “Mando, I want to feel you⏤ all of you⏤ please.”

“Not yet, mesh’la. Be patient.” His entire weight was pressing down on you. “Good girls are patient, and only good girls get rewarded. Is that what you want, mesh’la? To be my good girl?” You nodded, breathless from the agonizingly slow way he was grinding into you. “Words, mesh’la.”

“Yes.” You gasped. “Please, Mando, please⏤”

“How lucky am I?” Mando hummed. “To have such a pretty girl begging under me. I’ve wanted to make you fall apart since the moment you stepped onto my ship.” You tensed as an alarm began to faintly ring at the back of your mind. Something inside you was trying to warn you. Mando kept whispering loving words on top of you. “You’re mine, mesh’la. You’ve always been mine and you always will be.”

“No.” You tried to squirm out from under him, but Mando was much too large and much too heavy for you to even move an inch. “No, no, no.”

Taking the hint, Mando released your hands and jumped away from you. Breathless, you tried to sit up and gather your bearings. “What is it, mesh’la? What’s wrong?”

“This is wrong.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s right. This is what you want, this is what I want.”

“No, it’s not.” A sob left you. “You don’t want me. You said so yourself. You don’t want me. This isn’t right.” Your head was beginning to pound in pain and Mando’s voice sounded like it was suddenly far away. The cold metal under you was beginning to turn hot and the firm smoothness of the control panel was taking on a new texture⏤ something grainy that shifted under you. The darkness turned to a blinding light and you gasped as pain began to settle into you.

Your face was throbbing, you tasted blood in your mouth, and your right wrist was aching. Now you had a pounding headache as well.  You blinked your eyes, trying to clear the blurriness out of your vision, and you saw a man climbing down a ladder into the pit you laid in. The smugglers. The spice bomb. Your hand tightened around the blaster you had taken from Mando and you lifted your heavy arm to fire at the man. It hit him in the back and he fell from the ladder and landed motionless only a few feet away.

You blindly fired shots up to the ridge of the pit. Over and over⏤ not knowing what else to do. You fired so much that you never noticed the sound of someone else’s blaster mingling with yours. A familiar voice was calling out to you, but it wasn’t Mando. Your heavy arm sunk back into the sand, blaster falling loose, and your eyes began to droop in exhaustion.

You wished it was Mando calling for you.

You woke up slowly. Your entire body was sore and it took straight willpower to get your eyes to stay open. There was a thin cot underneath you and a flickering fire ahead of you. A groan fell from your lips as you tried to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa,” A familiar voice said, “Slow down there, little lady.”

“Vanth?” You tried to turn to find your friend, but a warm hand kept you from moving too much. Suddenly, Cobb Vanth was kneeling beside you with a charming grin. Your entire body sagged in relief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”

Vanth rubbed his jawline and gave you a wink, “I am much better looking than those damned smugglers, huh? How’d you and Mando get caught up in all that mess?”

“Mando!” You sat up quickly, immediately wincing when a sharp pain shot through you.

“Maker, darling.” Vanth scolded. “Your tin man is doing just fine. He’ll feel just as shitty as you when he finally wakes up.”

You glanced around and just as Vanth said your companion was lying on a small rolled out cot of his own. The firelight dancing as it reflected off his beskar. “He’s really okay? I think he had a head injury.”

“He’s fine. I promise you.” You nodded and Vanth offered you a canteen of water. As he asked, you began to tell him the story of what happened. It didn’t take long until you reached the point of the story that made your cheeks warm. Vanth noticed your hesitance and bumped his shoulder into yours. “Say your piece.”

“They threw a spice bomb and… and some weird shit happened.”

“Yeah, a spice bomb will do that to you.”

“What is it?”

“Depends. What’d you see?”

You paused before shrugging. “I was on the Razor Crest. Traveling with Mando and Grogu. Like always. It was… it felt so real.”

“Probably glitterstim then.” Vanth made you drink more water. “I have no idea how you broke out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The drug should’ve put you under. Place you in a happy haze of the thing you want most and trap you there for as long as the drug runs its course. Too much and you can end up dying in that perfect little world.” Vanth explained. “Usually, you can’t get out unless someone hits you with an antidote. Something to cancel the effects of the glitterstim. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you shock yourself out of it.” Vanth shrugged. “It all happens quick. In the first few minutes you either fall into the spice’s trap or you snap through it. The fact that I saw you wake up and shoot that smuggler is quite the feat, darling. How’d you do it?”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees. The drug in your system deemed your perfect world to be Mando confessing how badly he wanted you. How pathetic was that? You didn’t stay under because even in a drugged out haze your mind knew that it was fake. Mando didn’t want you. Not the way you wanted him. Tears filled your eyes. Vanth didn’t press for you to answer and instead set his arm around your shoulder as a comfort. You leaned into him and fell asleep.

Every single part of Din’s body hurt. It reminded him of when the mudhorn had tossed him around like a ragdoll. Every atom in his body though, despite the pain, screamed danger. Din forced himself to sit up, blaster drawn. He was in the desert, by a fire in the dead of night. Across from him, he saw Cobb Vanth sitting there casually. Din’s blaster was pointed at him, but Vanth just gave him a slight wave.

“Hey there, brother.” He greeted. “You can put the blaster away.”

“What⏤” Din began to ask, but then his eyes landed on you. Your head rested against Vanth’s thigh and he had one hand resting on your shoulder. Part of your face looked bruised and even from this distance he could see your busted lip.

“Smugglers got the jump on y’all. Hit you with a spice bomb.” Din holstered his blaster and cursed. Dank farrik. Whispers of his dream world lingered in his mind and Din had to shake his head to try and rid himself of the way your lips felt against his skin. “You’re lucky.”

“This is lucky?” Din asked dryly. Maker, his body ached. 

“Little lady here broke free of the spice dream.” Vanth said. Din’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t know what he wanted to know more⏤ what your perfect world had looked like or how you had broken out of it. Vanth’s hand was tracing shapes on your shoulder as you slept and Din frowned at the touch. Coming from an imaginary world where he was fucking you, his wife, to reality where you were sleeping against another man was jarring. “You got stuck in it. Tell me, Mando, what was your perfect world?”

You were. You were his perfect world.

But, Din couldn’t bring himself to admit that in his current reality. 

[dezmolad]

EARTHSPARK S3: review??? (SPOILERS!)

this weekend I watched earthspark and I have to say something or I'll explode. This won't be a review as much as just some loose thoughts trying to summarise what this series had became.

STARSCREAM I hate what happened with starscream. I wrote an analysis of how this character got absolutely massacred in S2 (you can check it out here). To summarise: In S1 he was such a great character, shown so intriguing with both his not perfect character and his history of being abused. In S2 they made him the villain in an absolutely shallow way, in the final episode writing him in a way that makes him irredeemable. And I thought thats the worst u can do. And then S3 happened, when he appears for one scene to be shown as funny for "being crazy" (WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING WHEN U REMEMBER S1 WHEN HE WAS A VICTIM OF ABUSE THAT NOONE BELIEVED. IS THIS REALLY A GOOD IDEA TO PORTRAY HIM AS HAHA CRAZY GUY). It's absolutely heartbreaking to watch that scene. Starscream gets electrocuted by the very person he opened up to in S1, he was in isolation for all of the S3, he went insane bc of that, and still at the end we drag him to autobot jail. what is this.

PROWL I have no idea how such an intriguing and complicated character from idw that was clearly an inspiration inspired such a dull and shallow character. His process of learning about respect for human allies and terrans is shown so poorely and never feels like being actually resolved, I won't even talk about this. I admire how they did two things I thought were impossible. I thought it's impossible to make IDW inspired Prowl in this show a good guy (I genuinely thought he's going to be the bad antagonist). I thought it's impossible to ignore his weird and complicated relationship with Tarantulas, in a show that had Tarantulas in S1, was created with Nick Roche as character designed and was inspired by The Sins Of The Wreckers specifically in specific places. They did both of those things and it worked out horribly, congrats.

CONCLUSION I can't understand what happened with this season. it's visible there was some cuts, it looks rushed, it lacks any substance, and Quintessons at the end... didn't help the case let's just say. But that isn't my bigest problem. I feel devastated by what happened to the ideals of the show. in S1 we had decepticons in cages, and figuring out it's not actually a good solution. In S2 we saw decepticon as boring usual villains. But in S3 we have decepticons in one big cage again. But this time there is no consideration, there is no doubt. Even if under Shockwave they just want to go home. They should all be kept imprisoned. No matter if they mean no harm, no matter if, like Starscream, they suffered enough. And there is nothing to figure out, that's just how the world works. After all, they are decepticons, right. yes I'm bitter, S1 was just very important to me and seeing what happened to ES is just sad.

[emotionaldisaster909]

Today’s episode was heartbreaking

We’ve seen so much of Xie Lian’s pain

So much of the fall of XianLe

But now

Will you tell me that it was all his fault?

The “consequence of his actions”?

So what should we blame him for?

For being a child against the most powerful and cruel ancient evil?

The one that lived 1000 years, destroyed all the gods and deceived the entire world?

Or was he too stubborn and not listened to other people?

Well let me tell you

XIE LIAN WAS NEVER WRONG FOR NOT LISTENING TO OTHERS.

Who should he have listened to?

That very evil that told him not to try and help his people?

His guoshi who knew everything and told him nothing but to sacrifice an innocent child in “penance” to that very evil?

Should he have crushed all youngans in one go, kill the poor starving people, led to desparation?

Should he have told his own desperate people that their cure was in murder and watch the inevitable massacre?

The only thing

The only thing that he should have seriously done differently

His biggest, most fatal mistake

He did

BY LISTENING TO SOMEONE WHO TOLD HIM HE WAS WRONG

ONE TIME.

He listened to his father.

The King of Xian Le.

When at the very beginning of it all they had an argument

Where Xie Lian insisted they should melt his golden statues and let the starving homeless people into his shrines

That’s EXACTLY what they should’ve done, but they did not

Because guess what the father said

We can’t. Because we did not build the shrines and the statues.

People of Xian Le did.

Do you want to disregard your people by doing that?

SAID THE KING

Knowing VERY WELL that he is talking about THE ROYALTY OF XIAN LE.

THE RITCH PEOPLE OF XIAN LE.

THE ONES WHO LET HIM RULE.

THE ONES WHO EASILY MIGHT TAKE HIS POWER

AND LIFE AWAY

IF HE DISPLEASES THEM.

But he knows how to PHRASE IT RIGHT to his son who CHERISHES HIS PEOPLE NO MATTER THE STATUS.

And who might very much not know the intricacies behind the ruler’s chambers.

Because Xie Lian

Was

Never

Meant

TO RULE.

He was raised to be a Martial God.

To fight demons and grant wishes.

NOT

TO RULE

A COUNTRY

BUT GUESS WHO

WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO RULE THE COUNTRY????

WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE SURE A HUGE PART OF IT WON’T STARVE TO DEATH?????

THE KING

And his son had to

ABANDON HEAVEN

To come deal with his mess

You can try blaming Xie Lian for not listening to the prayers from that part of Xian Le.

But he did not NOT listen.

He DID NOT HEAR.

Because the prayers system of “the ritcher - the louder” is inherently corrupt.

And growing up in a wealthy capital

Xie Lian must’ve not even SUSPECTED that there’ll be a part of his country so poor that no offerings would be enough for him to hear the prayers.

He did not know.

BUT THE KING

DID.

There’s no way he didn’t.

Yet does anyone

Does anyone in the book

And outside, anyone of the readers

Ever thought to blame him?

No.

Not even once have i seen this take.

Not even i realised it until recently. Thanks to my dear friend @3luecactuz

And why?

Because Xie Lian tells us the story.

And he himself

Completely believes

That it was all his fault.

When his only real fault was in not standing his ground

Agains the only person

Who held authority in his eyes.

Who was the authority in his life from the very beginning of it.

Who, no matter the future arguments, was the person he loved.

His father.

In the face of the greatest crisis he’s ever seen

Under the pressure to make the right choice for so many innocent lives

He gives in and listenes to a person who he not only inherently trusts

But who objectively had much more experience and knowledge than him

Who’s flaws he has not yet seen clearly enough. And never will.

Because this person raised him to be

Perfect.

And he failed.

Because no one is perfect.

And he believed in it in the wrong time and place. He gave in.

Decided to look for another solution.

And gave the evil orchestrating his demise just enough time to pull the first string.

Of many.

So tell me.

Really, tell me.

Did he deserve this?

Should he have listened more?

Should he have?

Or maybe

Just maybe

He needed someone

Who could have told him

To do what he thinks is right.

[talaok]

Hi! No pressure at all but can you write some smut for Tyler Galphin please?

You're an awesome writer I absolutely loved your A Small Bed fic 😄

Pairing:Tyler Galpin x Fem!reader

summary: after you got arrested for having kidnapped Tyler and then released, he comes to visit you in your room, and well, all that anger has to end up somewhere...

warnings: SMUT(unprotected -angry-sex)

A/n: so here’s the thing I hated him the whole time except for the last episode. So I wrote about that.(sorry this took so long)

"The monster fucks well sweetheart"

“What does it feel like?” “What does what feel like?” “To lose” Your mouth gaped open and you felt your eyes fill with tears. You were right. You knew you had been right but hearing it felt diffrent. Seeing with your own two eyes all the liveliness in his pupils disappear was diffrent. You felt your heart slow down, like even he couldn’t believe what was going on. You had known. You know you had known. You had had the vision and then you had connected the dots. You knew you were right, as heartbreaking as it felt you knew he was the hyde, he had killed all those people, but a small part of you apparently still hoped that inside that monster, inside that creature who massacred so many innocent people there was still a good part, still Tyler. But you were wrong. There was no Tyler, only the hyde remained in the now empty body in front of you. Only the monster. He took a step towards you and you took a step back instinctively. "What, are you scared of me?" his mouth twitched into a sinister grin. Your breathing was getting labored, but you couldn't let him see it. Ordering your chest to expand at a normal velocity. "because of the things I did?" he took another step. This time you didn't move. You weren't scared. He wasn't scary. He was never gonna hurt you. Not now, not when he knew he had won. He wanted you to suffer. "because of the people I killed?" he tilted his head to the side, taking another step. The room felt empty, like he was annihilating every other object, killing them just like he had killed all those people. It was yours before. It was you. It was your room, where you had gone to after running out of the police station, just after you had been arrested for having kidnapped him. And then you had opened the door, and he had entered and it wasn't yours anymore. It was nothing. it was fear and delusion mixed with sorrow, but definitely, not the room you had slept in, laughed in and cried in for the past 2 months. He was in front of you. Lurking over you like the predator he actually was. "because of who I am ?" he raised his eyebrow You looked up at him, anger so extremely clear on your face that you wondered how he looked so incredibly unfazed by it. You could feel all your organs compressing, the rage for being beaten, the rage for being humiliated, and for having lost crushing your every bone. You wanted to punch him more than you wanted to breathe. "I'm not scared of you Tyler" you said "I'll never be" you hissed "you're nothing but a pet" you stepped closer to him this time " a very obedient pet who does anything their master wants" you chuckled "If anything, I pity you. You're pathetic" Not a single emotion trespassed him. Like he had heard nothing of what you had just said "y/n" he bent down to whisper in your ear "as much as I like seeing that pretty mouth of yours lie " he scoffed " we both know that's not true" his breath was so hot against your ear and throat, it was difficult to concentrate "You are scared of me" his fingers traced along your arm "scared of what I can do" you felt him smile "scared of who I am" his fingers hooked under your chin, bringing your eyes to his "you are scared of me y/n" You swallowed what felt like the densest piece of saliva you'd ever encountered. "and you should be" "You'd never hurt me" you spat out "you want to see me suffer" a sparkle ignited in his eyes, finally somewhat alive "you don't want to kill me" you said finally "you can't" "oh" he laughed bitterly "now, we both know that's not true" he said "but I appreciate you trying" a grin appeared on his lips "you're cute when you lie" "fuck you" you whispered "I'm not lying" his fingers under your chin traced your jawline. "aw" he cooed "you're angry" yeah, no shit sherlock "but I think you're looking at it the wrong way" "Oh am I now?" you gritted incredulously "because to me it seemed like being completely humiliated to the point everyone thinks I'm batshit crazy while I know I'm right and you are still free is a good enough reason to be angry" He smiled as he shook his head "but see" his thumb stroked your cheek and you pretended it didn't still make you melt"I think you're relieved it went this way" you scoffed, "Why? why on earth would I be?" His other hand found its way to your waist "because if I did go to jail" he inhaled "you wouldn't have been able to see me for a long time" he laughed "and we both know how you wouldn't want that" Fuck his hand on you felt like fire, even after all this time. Even after you discovered what he was. It was awful, you knew, but there wasn't anything you could do about it, anything other than pretending, other than faking your uncaringness. "Yeah right" you scoffed again "so you are saying you wouldn't have missed my mouth so close to yours?" he said, leaning closer to you" my hands on you?" he paused as his hand caressed your side" missed me inside of you?" now it was your turn to pause, You had no idea what to say. There was a part of you that knew, with an angry, hateful certainty that he was right, but there was also a side that was fighting, fighting to make common sense prevail, to make it win somehow in this earthquake of chaos. you didn't have enough brain capacity to respond at the moment. the only thing that got out of you was a shy exhale. He smirked "you know I'm right" he forced you to look up at him again with his fingers. No. You were not gonna let him win so easily. "You're not" you said, hoping to sound more sincere than you actually were. He laughed "so stubborn" he said with amusement "and yet so painfully wrong" He smiled as he bent down, pressing his lips on yours, his mouth feeling so soft while being so harsh on yours. He was right and he was determined to prove it. You damned yourself as you closed your eyes, inevitably parting your lips for his tongue. The hand on your side traveled to your back, forcing you ever so close to him. "so you wouldn't have missed that?" he leaned away way too soon. God, you hated him. Him and his stupid smugness and his stupid talented mouth. "no, I wouldn't have" you lied He smiled proudly, like he wanted you to say that, like he was just waiting for a challenge and you had just presented him with the best possible one. "Is that so?" "hm-hm" you agreed "so when I kiss you you don't feel anything?" "Exactly" "And when I touch you?" his hand went to the hem of your skirt, hooking his finger in it "nothing" you gulped "not even when I can feel how wet you are?" he asked, as his fingers cupped your clothed cunt. "no" you murmured He tsked "and what about when I move your panties aside?" he murmured against your lips while he did just that. "I-" you tried, but the words were stuck in your throat "still nothing huh? I'm gonna have to try harder it seems" he said as he passed his index between your folds, coating himself of your wetness before moving his attention to your clit. You bit your lip so as not to moan as he circled it. You didn't want to give him that, the satisfaction of knowing how good he was making you feel. he kept massaging your clit and you kept biting your own skin, seconds away from tasting blood. "still nothing?" he raised an eyebrow and you were gonna punch him if it wasn't for your knees feeling so weak. You shook your head as heavy breaths escaped your mouth. He chuckled "I thought you might say that" He retracted his hand, making you whimper at the loss of contact. "but you know" he stroked your lip with his thumb "there's one thing I have tried" he looked at you "and I have a feeling it might change your mind" You smiled “you think?” He laughed hoarsely “I do” he said taking a step, your back hitting the cold wall “And what makes you so sure?” “It has worked before” he moved his hands underneath your skirt, one on each side of you, feeling the fabric of your useless panties “And it’s only right to give it a shot, don’t you think?” “If you believe so” you murmured” but just so you know, I severely doubt you’re right” “We’ll see” his fingers gripped your underwear, pulling them down enough for them to fall at your feet "I have a feeling you might change your mind" he said, his hot breath against your cheek as you heard the zipper of his jeans being unzipped. He pulled them down just enough to get his dick out, his big stupid dick that had made you come times and times before. You swallowed nervously as you looked down, and he noticed, grinning. " changed your mind yet sweetheart?" "nope" your voice was pathetically trembling "and don't call me sweetheart" "Oh but why?" he asked as if he was actually hurt. he raised one of your legs to his waist "you seemed to like it not so long ago" he kissed you briefly "Actually" he let go of your leg "you loved it" "yeah well that was before" you said coldly. He hummed, contemplating perhaps "jump" he said, and you complied. Completely and utterly conscious of making a mistake, a really hot and stupid mistake. You were trapped between him and the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck. his eyes were burning through you and his cock was just against your clit. "you mean before you found out who I was?" one of his hands left your waist to position his dick at your entrance "who I am?" Really, he wanted to do this now? You didn't answer, you just scowled at him. "tell me" he said "or I'm not gonna do it" Fucking asshole "Yes Tyler. yes" you huffed "see, that was easy wasn't it?" he said smugly as he finally pushed his tip in. You sank down on him, as he stretched you out perfectly, little shocks of pleasure coursing through you with every inch added, until he bottomed out. "fuck" you sighed "Yeah," he pulled almost completely out just to thrust harshly inside of you, a gasp fled your mouth "The monster fucks well sweetheart" he said, as he did it again, this time not stopping, but developing a deadly rhythm. You tried to stop yourself, you really did, but you couldn't do anything to control the shameless, pathetic moans emerging from your throat and filling the empty room. "tell me again" he kept going "tell me that you don't miss me" he laughed through labored breaths, "tell me you don't miss this". "tell me sweetheart " he was hitting every single spot,  you forced your eyes shut as he pushed into you again, even harder somehow "tell me I'm a monster, go on" he murmured against your ear "tell me how much you hate me" It was a weird feeling, being so turned on by someone while simultaneously hating them so deeply, so fondly that you kind of wished they would just drop dead right now. And what was even weirder, was having that same person, the one you wished dead, inside of you, splitting you in half so fucking well. "f-fuck you" you managed to get out. He smiled against your mouth before kissing it. It was a mess, a wet and moan-y mess, symbolizing your defeat and his triumph over you. there was no point in fighting him, he was gonna win, that's what he meant, that's what the kiss meant. "Feisty as ever" he smiled cockily "but a bit too smug for someone whose pussy I'm fully inside of right now" He said, not even letting you catch your breath before he brought his hand to your clit. "J-just shut up" you said exasperated "Oh no sweetheart" he circled your clit "you shut up" he kissed your cheek "I won" he kissed your jawline "I beat you Y/n" now your neck, never stopping his thrusts or fingers either "I get to talk" now the skin just below your ear "I get to say everything I want" he looked at you now "you on the other hand" he chuckled "well you can't" "Because you lost" there was such a tight knot in your belly that you felt like you were gonna explode, and as much as you wanted to tell him to fuck off, or that he was a crazy bastard, that stupid feeling distracted you, and only a series of high-peached groans lest your mouth, as you got closer and closer to your much-earned relief. "what you can't even talk?" he said, as his cock was wrapped tightly around your walls "You can't even answer me?" he defied you "can't even tell me how much I disgust you huh?" his fingers kept moving fast "If I had known this was all it took to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago" There was sweat on his forehead and his eyes were cruising all over your face, examing and without a doubt enjoying every single expression, every single muscle contorting as he was fucking you hard. "You're coming" he breathed out, feeling your walls clenching around him "god you feel so fucking good when you squeeze me sweetheart" he mumbled, his thrusts getting sloppier "Come y/n, just give up baby" he groaned "You already fucking lost anyway". A fire exploded inside you, spreading through your whole body, you shouted his name and then other profanities as your body convulsed from the pleasure, abandoning yourself completely to the feeling, and then you felt him come too, his hot cum filling you up deeply. You both caught your breath silently as he put you down on the floor. Your legs weren't all that ready as they stumbled beneath your weight. " Well, shit" you exhaled, looking up at him in disbelief as he grinned "I still hate you you know?" "Oh, I know" he smiled " trust me I know"

[athymelyreply]

A highly recommended read. Full text of article under cut

On October 7, I was not hiding with my child in the safe room. My house was not burnt to the ground, and my husband didn't blow me a last kiss before his killer fired a fatal bullet.

I was safely at home in London where I have lived for over 30 years when my elderly peace-activist parents, Oded and Yocheved Lifschitz, along with 77 others members of the community, were taken hostage, barefoot and in their pajamas from their homes in the kibbutz where I was born and raised.

Israel's hostages in Gaza: A matter of life and death

Israeli peace activists who lost loved ones in the Hamas massacre stand their ground

What we can learn from released Hamas hostage Yocheved Lifshitz

For the past 229 days, together with the families of the other of hostages taken captive which now number 128, we have taken part in the fight for the lives of our loved ones.

A photo of the writer, Sharone Lifschitz's parents, Yocheved and Oded Lifschitz, who were both kidnapped by Hamas to Gaza on October 7. To date, only Yocheved Lifschitz has returned. Credit: Amiram Oren

In Nir Oz, my family's kibbutz, one in four people (117 in total), were either executed or kidnapped. We are still piecing together the events of that brutal day that Hamas terrorists and some Gazan civilians, perpetrated medieval levels of cruelty, driven by hate and revenge, blinded by radical religious ideology and super-charged with amphetamines.

Last month, at the "Seder in the Streets" event in New York, activist Naomi Klein spoke as if none of that ever took place. Instead, addressing hundreds who gathered for a combination Passover Seder and protest of the war in Gaza, she spoke of what she termed the "False Idol of Zionism", comparing Jewish support of it to the Israelites "worshiping" the golden calf and recalling Moses' rage seeing the spectacle.

Klein's interpretation seems to miss the point: Moses, unlike Klein, did not disengage. He did not give up on his people when they worshipped a false idol. Instead, without compromising his integrity and beliefs, he guided them through the desert for forty more years in their journey to become a nation. Klein, at this dangerous moment in history, is failing to lead her listeners to take responsibility, to engage and work towards a shared future in the region for Jews and Palestinians, one built on the preciousness of life on both sides and an understanding of the original intention of Zionism: the necessity for a safe home for the Jewish people.

"Seder in the Street" was also protesting the heartbreaking and ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza and settler violence in the West Bank. Many in Israel, like my parents, would agree. Yet their plight and that of the other hostages – most of them civilians, from a baby boy of one year to a man of 86 - are not mentioned at Seder in the Streets or other gatherings of far-left pro-Palestinian Jewish activists.

My father, Oded Lifschitz, who is 83, and his friends who are also hostages, all in their late 70s and 80s, have worked for peace for decades. My mother, Yocheved Lifschitz, was thankfully released after 17 days of captivity.

Yocheved Lifschitz after being released from 17 days in Hamas captivity, in Tel Aviv, Israel in late October. Credit: Tomer Appelbaum

How much more effective these protests could be if activists abroad could act as a bridge between the pro-Palestinian movement and progressives fighting for peace in Israel?

Hamas, a terrorist organization which has been systematically stripping freedom, women's rights and democracy from the Gaza strip since 2006 are also strangely left out of the discussion. In fact, I see more criticism of the Hamas attack and crimes from moderate Palestinian voices than from prominent Jewish voices of the pro-Palestinian movement in the United States and Europe.

Klein is instead content in disengaging from Israel based on a distorted idea of Zionism and in so doing offers no solidarity with the moderate, progressive Jews living in Israel and for whom rejecting Zionism is irrelevant at this moment. Whether we like our government's policies or hate them as many do, Israel is home. Just as Canada is Klein's home, whether or not she likes the policies of the Canadian government or condones its mistreatment of its Indigenous population.

I consider myself pro-Palestinian. My family has always fought for a shared future for our two peoples, understanding this key point: our fates are interlinked. My parents have advocated for peace and equality for and with the Palestinians since the 1960s. We have united as a family to protest policies of the current Israeli government we find abhorrent. I wish for the Palestinians what I want for my own people: to live without bloodshed, in their own democratic state, as part of a negotiated two-state solution.

The facts are indisputable to Zionists and non-Zionists alike: There are about 7 million Jews and 7 million Palestinians living in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank and Gaza. Jewish Israelis cannot be expected to reject the idea that they can and should have the right to live safely in Israel. Without Israel, where would they go?

Everyone who cares about what's best for the region must strengthen those who are working for a peaceful future. As my father always says, "You make peace with your enemies."

A Palestinian family rides on the back of a donkey-drawn carriage next to damaged buildings in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, in April.Credit: AFP

Thanks to international efforts to formulate a plan for the "day after" the war in Gaza, we are potentially closer to a long-term political agreement to lift us out of conflict than ever before. To help facilitate it, American and European progressives must distinguish between religious fanatics on both sides and those working toward a path of justice and peace for everyone in the region.

We must differentiate the liberal American pro-Palestinian activists from those who justify Hamas atrocities as acts of resistance. The dominant current narrative of the American far left, including the Jews among them, unwittingly aligns with Iran, and with antidemocratic and illiberal forces.

Instead of fostering hate and promoting disengagement from Israel, progressives abroad should help those in the region regain a sense that another future is possible and advocate for a negotiated political agreement that would create a state of Palestine established alongside the state of Israel. It won't be perfect, but it will be a good start.

The work of advocating for a different, sustainable future, must start with a call for the immediate release of hostages as part of a long-term agreement, backed by America and its allies, including moderate Arab states, that has the potential to transform the lives of Palestinians and Israelis by rescuing them from this ongoing tragedy. To fail to do so is to fail not just the hostages and their families, but to throw all the people of the region further into the abyss and undo the inspiring work of moderate forces within Israeli and Palestinian society.

In this, our darkest hour, we ask ourselves, who is our enemy? My enemy is the blind hate that seeks to erase the humanity of the other side. All of us who are horrified by what is unfolding in Gaza should work toward empowering the people of the region to move away from our common enemy. That's not Zionism, but rather the religious fanaticism we have within both our societies – Israeli and Palestinian – that threatens to engulf us all.

Sometimes, I want to shout at the news on TV, to remind people that their indulgent engagement in hatred of one side is so futile, so self-congratulatory. We can do better.

As we bleed and grieve, and in the case of families like my own – hang suspended between hope and despair for the fate of our loved ones, we must seek points of human connection between Jews and Palestinians, we must fight, not against one another, but for a practical solution that dismantles the status quo so that we can all survive – and live in freedom and security.

Sharone Lifschitz is a London-based filmmaker and academic originally from Kibbutz Nir Oz, whose parents were taken hostage on October 7. On Twitter: @Lifschitz_sha

[dragons-and-ages]

As much as I usually prefer playing mages and elves… reading The World of Thedas vol 2 in preparation for a new playthrough is actually getting me hyped to play a Cousland.

Reading about my soon-to-be Amalthea Cousland’s parents is simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking:

Her mother, Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, was raised on the deck of a ship and was a fierce rebel raider known as the Seawolf during the time of the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden. After Maric retook Denerim and mobilized the northern banns to defend against Orlesian retaliation by sea, she met her future husband:

I considered the name Dane, from Fereldan legend, but I think Amalthea’s mabari will have to be named Mistral, after her mother’s ship.

After the war, when Bryce returned to Highever:

“Teyrn Bryce spent four months receiving oaths and taking possession of his ancestral home, and every day without fail he sent a letter to Lady Eleanor - sometimes more than one a day.”

The shanty in question:

I think that, even if this was something Eleanor “never shared with her children” they still learned about it from other sources. I have a feeling that a young Amalthea (or “Theo”) got in trouble when she learned the song and got caught belting it in the castle.

Years later, as Highever mobilized to assist King Cailan at Ostager, Theo would have a few notes stuck in her head, plaguing her as she couldn’t remember what song it was from… Until several weeks later, when she would hear the song played in a brothel in Denerim and the enormity of the loss of her family would finally hit her like a meteor.

The book has this to say in the section about Arl Rendon Howe:

Bryce was his friend during the rebellion against Orlais. They, along with their friend, Leonas Bryland, survived the massacre that was the Battle of White River together. Bryce was still his friend after Leonas cut contact with him. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland were at his wedding. They were the only people at his wedding. They were his friends.

They were his friends and he still slaughtered them.

I’m so unwell about this.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

An Israeli law draft that would prohobit UNRWA's activity in Israel passed a very primal stage of legislation. It still has a long way until it will become law (it would still have to pass 3 readings, as well as the Knesset committees), but if before Oct 7 it probably would not stand a chance, after the mounting evidence of the symbiotic nature between Hamas and UNRWA, it has a better chance than ever.

Speaking of the UN being despicable, and in cahoots with antisemitic, genocidal terrorists, we now have Martin Griffiths, the UN Relief Chief, saying that he does not consider Hamas a terrorist organization. Just wondering, if an organization targeting civilians, raping women, maiming children, beheading babies, burning entiree families together, shooting and kidnapping elderly Holocaust survivors, isn't a terrorist organization, what in the world does Hamas need to do to be recognized as such!?

You might have heard that Israel is operating in the Nasser hospital in Gaza. There's a reason for that, which was addressed by the IDF spokesperson: Israel has intel, including from released hostages, that Hamas kept kidnapped Israelis (and possibly kidnapped bodies) in that hospital. I've actually found one testimony from a released hostage, Sharon Cunyo, talking about this to CNN's Anderson Cooper. The vid is here (page in Spanish, but the vid is in English).

I cannot stress enough how much our hearts hurt for our Jewish brothers and sisters around the world, suffering from this current rise in antisemitism. We've now heard that in the UK, a doctor who has described Jewish colleagues as having a "big nose," and who said that a London borough would be better off "Jew free" was found to be not racist, and could continue to practice medicine. This ties in with a new report that shows the number of antisemitic incidents in the UK is the highest it's been in 40 years, with 67% of these taking place after Oct 7, and maybe most importantly, the initial peak in antisemitic acts was a celebration of Hamas' massacre, rather than any sort of reaction to the war in Gaza.

Meanwhile, in the US congress, a bipartisan resolution passed, condemning Hamas' use of rape and sexual violence on Oct 7 (and since, when it comes to the hostages). Which is incredible and needed, even if it only has a symbolic meaning. Still, guess who couldn't stomach defending the human rights of Israelis, even when it comes to rape, even when it had no practical meaning? Rashida Tlaib, once more doing the US proud.

These are (left to right) Yair Cohen, Ziv Chen, and Netanel Alkobi.

On Oct 7, they were among the soldiers who got to kibbutz Nir Yitzchak, and saved the majority of its people from being slaughtered. They stayed to guard the kibbutz since (as the border fence has not yet been completely fixed), and only recently entered Gaza. The other day, they were killed in a building booby trapped by Hamas in Khan Younis. As heartbreaking is it was to hear their families talk about them, it was also painful to hear interviews with kibbutz members, who had lost so much, who have had loved ones in captivity for over 4 months, and who were just as devastated as the families, when they recognized the three as their savior heroes.

May their memories be a blessing.

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

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 4

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

aaaaaaand i'm back for another chapter! Again at my desk with my reading buddy (Charlie) tea for this chapter is a soy matcha latte.

So, I thought the conference was a few days from when Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan was in the cave, but im assuming it's annual? Since he was in the caves for a year? p191

Ah JK. the top of the next page - the conference is every 4 years 192

I'm actually so stoked for this demon blood reveal. I want to know how its spun in this "version" of the story p 193

I love how confused shen yuan is, he's still over here thinking he's the villain when he has so clearly been upgraded to Love Interest/Damsel in Distress. IDK what to tell you pp193-194

Okay so now luo binghe is 17. Question though- do we ever actually get an age for Shen Qingqiu? p195

This kid is still here simping. Actually at this point I dont even know who is the simp. Luo Binghe is openly heart eyes and Qin Qingqiu isn't even aware of his own feelings but the way he describes future luo binghe is too much LOL. It is a trainwreck to read. p195

Binghe: *all flirt* Shen Qingqiu: shit. fuck. ah. I need to not fuck this plot point p196

LOL at Shen Qingqiu taking the carriage "I'm frail and indisposed" x3 twink energy p200

not the snacks too LOL p200

oh no! Luo Binghe thinking that Shen Qingqiu has any feelings at all for Liu Mingyan p201

But also then trying to make Shen Qingqiu jealous. Oh boy.

Let's take a second to appreciate how clear and concise the point system is for the conference. like this was well thought out- I love it. It's also giving a bit of hunger games spectator energy p205

This guy (Shen Yuan) already knows the outcome, and yet he's going to gamble (AND GAMBLE BIG) anyways p 208

I cannot with this group following Luo Binghe "my feet hurt :(" p215

why the foot fetish material 💀 217

RIP to the OG timeline's harem- the have been felled to the Demon Realm's Nu Yuan Chen p218

omg this is a massacre p220

awww at liu qingge not letting Shen Qingqiu join the fray. I feel like these two probably have a shit ton of fics pairing them p223

THE HEAD SPIDER WHAT pp226-227

Shen Qingqiu's entrance though!!!!!!!! p227

Shen Qingqiu is even getting the flower poison plot (points for my love interest/damsel in distress plotline) "Stop. Do not pass go. The girl you're supposed to pick the flower for, Qin Wanyue, is right next to us, watching- and you want to deflower it in her presence, and for a big, strong man to boot? Leave your wife some dignity, all right?!" p231

oooo now we get details on who the spy is. Enter Shang Qinghua p233

Shang Qinghhua deserves an Oscar for this performance 236

And more damsel shen qingqiu 242

the miscommunications! oh gosh why is this scene so painful. They're talking about two different things. pp247-248

Oh no. Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan is not okay :( p257

oh no oh no oh no -> heartbreak points?!?!?!? this is so sad p259

OMG WAIT WHAT AN END TO THIS CHAPTER. THE AUTHOR IS HERE TOO???????????? WHAT THE HECK!!!

RE: Who the spy is- A SPY WITHIN A SPY?

Thats all for today!

The twist really twisted me at the end there. AH. I can't wait to read more. Will they work together? will they be mortal enemies??? Will this be the author attempting to usurp Shen Yuan????? I DONT KNOW????

[hailuchiha]

My Sister's Keeper

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

!! MINORS DNI !!

!! 18 + NSFW CONTENT!!

!! ALL characters involved are ADULTS ; NO minor characters!!

Summary: Itachi took his sister when he joined the Akatsuki. To earn needed cash during missions, he occasionally pimps her out enlists her help.

prompt filled for this anon ask

non-con, pimping/forced sex work, incest, loss of virginity, dead dove: don't eat, adult content, fiction

(1.3k words)

Upon defecting the village, Itachi had taken his younger sister along, leaving their youngest brother to fend for himself till he was ready to kill Itachi. Itachi didn't really care whether or not Sasuke followed his command to do so.

He'd spared her most of the horrors during the massacre itself, having put her under a genjutsu. However, when she'd woken up days later, and with so much distance from their village, Itachi had revealed to her the full extent of his crime.

The girl, only a couple years younger than him, had been horrified, fear and heartbreak filled tears welling up in her doe eyes. Itachi resisted the urge to comfort her like he would have before all this. If her fear would keep her in line, then so be it.

Life in the Akatsuki wasn't a walk in the park either. Every day, there were different challenges and dangers. But, Itachi was glad to see his sister being able to hold her own and stay out of trouble.

One thing though, that bothered him was how fast she was growing, her body developing physically. Each day she grew more beautiful despite her heartbreak and sorrow. Often, he woke up in the middle of the night to her soft sniffles, and sometimes due to her cries for Sasuke in her sleep.

Still, Itachi thought, glumly seeing the eyes of a fellow Akatsuki member which were trained on his sister, a leer showing his teeth. Itachi wasn't a volatile man, however, seeing the man openly ogle his oblivious sister made an ugly rage rear its head inside Itachi.

Itachi was no brute. He reigned his rage in, simply resorting to keeping a closer eye on his sister. They were always either surrounded or accompanied by these vicious criminals who had defected their nations and banded together. While he'd gained the respect of the other Akatsuki members soon enough, and he knew none of them would make one wrong move towards his sister, there was no way he could relax about her near any of them. He knew better than anyone what kind of beasts these men were- Itachi knew well enough they would pounce on her given the chance.

Things became more problematic, though, as they got more independence and other men they crossed showed open interest in her. This was worse, because unlike the Akatsuki members, they didn't hesitate to approach the beautiful young woman despite Itachi's presence.

During one such time traveling alone with her, Itachi finally snapped. In the stuffy room in the inn they had stopped for a couple days, Itachi pinned her down on the rough mattress and finally had his way with her. If the inn-keeper had heard her scream, he never bothered to check in on them.

Satisfied that no man could take her virginity now, Itachi cleaned the young woman up, who had passed out sometime after the first couple rounds. He cleaned up himself as well and went to sleep beside her, pulling her towards him and away from the bloody red patch staining the mattress. For the first time in years, sleep came easy to him and he enjoyed a blissful sleep.

But that night opened up a whole new door.

------

The man grinned widely upon entering the room. He liked what he saw.

A young woman sat at the edge of the bed, her gaze cast down, half of her gorgeous face hidden behind a curtain of lustrous, raven hair. She was dressed modestly enough in navy robes, but the garment did nothing to hide her voluptuous figure.

His mouth watered instantly, and he stepped closer, almost as if beckoned.

The door closed behind him, and he frowned, turning back to see that the dark-haired man from earlier had stepped into the room with them, staring at him with a cold look as if daring him to challenge him.

Not wanting to waste any time arguing about a voyeur, the man decided to get his fill. He shrugged, looking away from the intense gaze, and moved towards the figure on the bed.

He practically drooled when she didn't move away as he invaded her space. Other than a slight flinch, she didn't make any movement to stop him when he pull at the sash holding her robes together.

The cloth fell away and revealed more of her unblemished porcelain skin, such a contrast to his tanned, scarred skin from being under the sun so much.

He eagerly moved in to kiss her plush lips but was stopped when she simply tilted her face away. A frown started to pull at his face, but before his anger could rise, the pimp's baritone voice stopped him in his tracks, practically making him jump out of his skin.

"No kissing. Have you forgotten the rules already?"

"A-Alright, alright," the man said with fake bravado, running a hand through his sandy brown hair.

In truth, he'd forgotten that the pimp was in the room, overseeing the exchange.

Instead, he pushed the woman to lay down, his anger making his touch rougher. She showed no resistance, though her eyes never made contact with his. In fact, she didn't even look at him!

She was laying right under him, sure, but her eyes were fixed to the corner of the room, where her pimp stood, watching them with a detached coldness.

Huffing under his breath, he pushed her legs apart, his cock fully erect and ready, and was surprised to see glops of thick white fluid spill from her puffy vagina.

She'd been fucked today already, maybe even right before he came.

"I thought i was your first customer today," he grunted, shoving into her soft warmth anyway, the question aimed at the red-eyed pimp.

"You are," came the response in an unbothered tone.

"Then wh-," he didn't get a chance to complete his demand.

"I used her before I left," said the pimp matter-of-factly. "Is that a problem?"

And although the raven-haired man was asking him that, his tone made it clear that his opinion didn't matter to him. That if he made this an issue of his pride, the pimp would simply kick him out and not miss his money.

Instead of responding, the farmer pulled out before pushing back in, groaning loudly at the delicious heat engulfing his cock. He began to plow the whore like his life depended on it, flicking his tongue over her hardened, peach-coloured nipples, his spit coating her breasts and making them glisten as he moved between both.

He finished almost too soon, almost forgetting to pull out before he spilled. In fact, and he didn't know how the pimp knew, but just in time, the other had stepped in and forcefully pulled him off of her, his load spilling all over the mattress and wooden floor.

Still, he wished he could have another go, but there was something in the young pimp's eyes that made him afraid to even ask. So, with shaky hands, he put on his clothes and handed him the agreed upon sum.

------

As soon as they exchange was made, Itachi made sure to alter his memory, blurring both his, and his sister's faces from his memory. After all, no matter what he was doing now, no matter what he was making her do now, he hoped for there to be a future for her sometime ahead.

His sister sprang up from bed and rushed into the tiny bathroom the moment the door closed after the farmer. Itachi didn't stop her or say anything.

As he cleaned up the mess and put on the bedsheet, he heard the shower running.

Sighing, he went to lay out a fresh set of clothes for her.

"Y/N," he called, knocking once on the bathroom door. "I've laid out your clothes. We're going out tonight, so be ready by the time I come back."

There was brief silence, and Itachi strained to hear for a moment. He thought he must have missed what she said, or that she hadn't heard him.

"Alright, Itachi," came her response, her voice tight, and Itachi knew she was holding back tears.

Now has a Part 2 (Prequel for this) that bobody asked for

[beauttifullife]

For her.

“I can’t…” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice so faint it was almost lost in the wind, as though the very words weighed too much for her to speak. Her eyes found mine, wide and filled with a deep, heartbreaking plea. “Innocents... they were slaughtered. Children died believing I ordered this—that I wanted their deaths.”

Her voice cracked, and I could see the anguish etched into her face, the guilt weighing her down like a leaden cloak. She looked down at the baby again, her thumb gently brushing against its soft cheek, her grip tightening just slightly.

“I want to kill those men,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “I wanted to burn them to ash, for what they did.”

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, the raw emotion in her voice palpable. But the baby’s presence had pulled her back from that edge, tethering her to something more human, something beyond her rage.

“You are more than that,” I whispered, stepping closer to her, though I kept my distance, letting the baby in her arms do what words could not. “You are a mother, Rhaenyra. You fight for your children—for a better world for them, for a world that won’t be ruled by fire and blood alone. This—this isn’t you.”

She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. It was as if the weight of the world had finally come crashing down on her, all at once.

“I don’t know how to stop it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “The rage, the need to make them pay for what they’ve done. It’s… it’s eating me alive.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my heart aching for her.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” I said softly. “You don’t have to become the fire, Rhaenyra. Let it be your strength, not your undoing. You can still stop this—we can stop this. Together.”

The baby stirred in her arms, its tiny fingers grasping at the fabric of her gown, and I saw something shift in her. A softening. The cold rage that had gripped her so tightly seemed to release its hold, if only by a fraction.

For the first time since the massacre, Rhaenyra exhaled, her shoulders sagging as the weight of her emotions overwhelmed her. She held the baby closer, her grip gentle now, almost protective. The fierce dragon rider, the queen, the warrior—they were still there, but so too was the mother, the woman who had fought so hard for her children and for the realm.

“I don’t want to lose myself,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

“You won’t,” I assured her, stepping closer, my hand resting lightly on her arm. “Not as long as you remember what you’re fighting for.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze held mine, her eyes searching for something—reassurance, hope, perhaps a way back from the darkness she had nearly fallen into. And slowly, ever so slowly, I saw the glimmer of the woman I had known begin to return.

She nodded once, her resolve crystallizing into something both fierce and tender. The hardness in her eyes remained, but now it was softened by a deep, underlying compassion.

“We stop Daemon,” she said quietly, her voice steadying. “We stop this madness. For them—” She paused, her gaze falling to the baby nestled in her arms, a gentle sadness reflecting in her eyes. “For her.”

I looked down at the tiny, innocent face nestled against her, and my own smile was bittersweet, a mix of sorrow and resolve.

“For her,” I echoed, my voice thick with emotion.

And in that moment, beneath the wing of the Cannibal, amidst the devastation and the horrors of war, I knew we had just taken the first step toward reclaiming Rhaenyra’s soul—and the realm itself.

[charmwasjess]

Stupid sexy the Acolyte why I am still watching you

Ugh, because it unfortunately rules, that's why. I don't know. On one hand, I still have all of my concerns about the portrayal of the Jedi Order and my absolute exhaustion with the plotline of "oooh, but wHaT iF the Jedi bAd?!" while offhandedly massacring interesting cool Jedi who are voluntarily and honorably living out their convictions as empty plot fodder. I am so tired. But I also keep genuinely finding things to like about the show.

I really like the big chunky boxy lightsaber designs. They remind me of my first car: one of those perfectly square Volvo station wagons. I think the prequel Jedi lightsaber designs tend to be a little industrial/ utilitarian, whereas Dooku's generation (in the few example we have, I'm thinking of his, Sifo-Dyas's, and Jocasta's, because those are the ones I've looked at too many times) can be a little fussy and overdesigned. It's cool to see how generations of Jedi riff on popular designs for their era.

The size makes for a big impact when characters do things such as hold the emitter against the head of another character, or as in last night, bring it up to someone's throat, because damn, that thing is a clunker. It looks so dangerous.

Master Sol. Master Sol. Master Sol. I'm not sure I have ever seen a live action role where the actor has more uniquely and specifically captured what I love about the Jedi in one character.

The scene where he goes down to reset the transmitter and has his little micro-breakdown after the "team is dead" bit. What an powerful moment. The amount of acting he did with absolutely no dialogue, no one else in the scene to bounce off of, just a quiet moment of grief, rage, and loss. I've read both criticism and rebuttals of Jedi acting - oh, they're wooden, no, they're accurately playing a person with a lifetime worth of trained emotional control - and this was such an incredible example of portraying a person with a lifetime of emotional control training realistically experiencing an excruciating, heartbreaking loss. You see him lose control, open himself up to the Force/self soothe, and regain it. All just with a sequence of facial expressions. Honestly, if I get absolutely nothing else out of the show and hate where they go with this, it will have been worth watching for that alone. It's that important to me.

And just - Sol. :') When he gives Not-Osha a big HUG? I'm such a sucker for Jedi onscreen hugs. Man, his inevitable death is gonna blow.

Aww, and speaking of death, confirmation that the Osha and Jecki vibes were really there. Just kill me. And I kind of love how Qimir phrases it, this idea that the Jedi she loves will never love her back the way that she wants them to, but also the twisty subtext there. Maybe this is me giving the show too much credit, but I got a lot of Sith-version of love "to love is to possess a person" vibes in the way he talked about that?

BUt ohhhhh nooooo ewww stupid sexy Qimir trying to s-seduce (?) Osha by being all sexy and funny and likeable and weirdly kind and not like a classic Sith. Pffffh. Yeah, he's going after the other twin now. Completely and totally expected. Oh, good. And now he's taking off his stupid shirt and his beautiful body is there in this dumb stupid scene. He loves to show off his awful muscles and handsome dumb face, as if anybody is interested in that. Presumably his dark side dong is out. Who would care about that? Not me, a scholar.

Whatever, who even cares about this show. CLEARLY I DO NOT

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Zack Beauchamp at Vox:

Vice President Kamala Harris’s acceptance speech started slow, getting bogged down in a familiar recitation of her biography. But it got stronger over time, really hitting its stride when she got around to a topic that’s often dry: foreign policy. There, she showed a facility with policy and an aptitude for navigating deeply divisive issues like Israel-Palestine that did wonders for her commander-in-chief credibility. Part of what worked was Harris’s palpably emotional delivery. But there was also a real crispness to the speech’s arguments. Here’s what she said, for example, in discussing Trump’s affinity for dictators:

[I will not cozy up to tyrants and dictators like Kim Jong Un who are rooting for Trump. Who are rooting for Trump because they know he is easy to manipulate with flattery and favors. They know Trump won’t hold autocrats accountable because he wants to be an autocrat himself.]

In just three lines, she presented an entire cogent theory of what’s wrong with Trump — that he is a selfish, unserious man whose entire approach to politics is anathema to American democracy — and illustrated it with a compelling, easily graspable example. As a writer, it’s hard not to admire the craft here. She also applied that in her discussion of Israel-Palestine, where she delivered one of the deftest handlings of the issue I’ve ever seen from a politician, one that displayed empathy for both sides while also implicitly distancing herself from Biden’s unbalanced pro-Israel approach:

[I will always stand up for Israel’s right to defend itself. And I will always ensure Israel has the ability to defend itself, because the people of Israel must never again face the horror that a terrorist organization called Hamas caused on October 7, including unspeakable sexual violence and the massacre of young people at a music festival. At the same time, what has happened in Gaza over the past 10 months is devastating. So many innocent lives lost, desperate, hungry people fleeing for safety over and over again. The scale of suffering is heartbreaking. President Biden and I are working to end this war such that Israel is secure, the hostages are released, the suffering in Gaza ends, and the Palestinian people can realize their right to dignity, security, freedom, and self-determination.]

Harris’s framing not only recognized the strongest points in both the Israeli and Palestinian narratives of the current conflict, it took them seriously. She did not mince words or dance around the horror of October 7. She acknowledged why the attack was such an unforgivable assault on Israeli lives and reiterated her commitment to preventing it from ever happening again. At the same time, she went much further than even most Democrats are willing to in recognizing the immense and ongoing suffering of Palestinians. More than that, actually: She acknowledged that Palestinians have legitimate rights — rights that demand even more than an end to this war, but a future where Palestinians truly rule themselves. Too often, people discussing this topic feel the need to only recognize one of these narratives — and in American politics, that’s most often the Israeli one. Yet Harris placed them on truly equal footing, taking the moral ideas implicit in a two-state solution to the conflict and bringing them to the fore. The result was a discussion that anyone who cares about both Israeli and Palestinian lives could appreciate, and one that felt genuine in the delivery rather than just pro forma.

[...] But this speech felt meaningfully different in two respects. First, its rhetorical structure: Presenting Palestinian aspirations for self-determination as the moral climax of her discussion of the issue, the apex concern, felt like a meaningful shift away from a biased status quo. Second, and more importantly, it’s consistent: In public and reportedly in private, Harris has demonstrated far more concern with the suffering of Palestinian civilians.

During a portion of Kamala Harris’s Democratic nomination acceptance speech at the DNC last night, Harris touched on the Israel/Palestine topic, and she said that Palestinians have a right to self-determination. Harris also spoke out against the October 7th terrorist activities by Hamas. #DNC2024