#which means we should probably call it an even trade

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Note: If you prefer plain text, you can read the plain text version here.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of this post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> riki nishimura x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> n/a word count -> 2.4k

abstract -> he's perfect how he is... but can maybe change for her.

y/n’s perspective

“Niki, we always do this” I whined as he locked himself in the bathroom. I needed to get him ready for tonight’s party. If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t… but with my family pushing me into choosing a major in business, they're making me befriend other kids who are from wealthy families. 

“Please… I don’t want to go alone” I begged but he didn’t respond. It was running late and the driver was gonna be here soon… so I might have to go alone today. 

I gave up trying to convince him and I went to do the final touches. Grabbing a jacket, fixing my makeup, and grabbing everything I needed. 

When I left my room, I couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re gonna go with me?” I asked and he nodded. “I can’t let you go on your own” he muttered and I chuckled. “Besides, look at how forgetful you are,” he said as he pulled my hair roller off my bangs. “Oh,” I said genuinely forgetting as he laughed at me. 

“Do you–” “Yes, I have my tail ring on. I’m ready, now let's go before your dad starts calling”

Riki Nishimura was a stray hybrid I met when I was a kid. We were on a vacation trip to Japan when I saw him. I offered him some food I had on me and he took it from me to eat it like he was starved. 

My parents were already wanting to get me a hybrid so I begged them to keep him. In which they reluctantly agreed. However, when we found out he wasn’t a normal black cat hybrid they agreed. 

He was a panther hybrid and has been with me for years. We grew up together… However, my parents never liked how rowdy he was. Even now they tell me to get another hybrid, one that could join me in dinners, parties, and one who is overall more well-behaved. 

I wasn’t gonna let them replace him. He was my best friend, my number one confidant. Besides… who needs a fancy and well-behaved hybrid? Niki was way more fun!

niki’s perspective

It was the same old party they threw with the same kids as their rich human parents and new collectibles. They liked to collect new hybrids where they’d show them off and then throw them away… but not y/n. 

Without her, I probably would still be mistaken for an overgrown cat hybrid on the street. It doesn’t mean I liked being gawked at and set a price on what they’d trade her for me. Of course, she’d never let them... I’ve seen how annoyed and angry she gets and it made me happy she cared so much. 

I cared for her too… She was clumsy and an idiot so she needed someone to take care of her. So I'm here… at a stupid party filled with spoiled rich kids. 

Not to say she isn't spoiled… she is. However, I never questioned that she loved me. She always makes that clear with everything she does for me. 

“Oh! You’re y/n right?” I heard and I saw a girl behind us with what smelled like a bird hybrid. “Mmhm… have we met before?” she asked why I didn’t think so… I would’ve recognized her and her hybrid. “My name–”

I didn’t care what she had to say… I just didn’t like how her hybrid kept on staring at me with those eyes of his. What was his problem?

I was cut off from my thoughts when suddenly the topic of discussion became me… 

“He’s really pretty and exotic too! I just haven’t heard good things about him, you know?” she said and I had to refrain from growling at her. Who was she to talk right in front of my face about me? And to y/n?

“Jay here is well-behaved! He’s from America you know–” Is that supposed to make him impressive? Congrats bird you’re a pet! “–it's just a shame you know. I wanted a bunny or maybe a cat hybrid” she pouted and I could see his disappointed expression. 

“Oh, Niki is really sweet but he’s solitary–” “You should invest in a social hybrid you know?” she cut her off to say. Rude… why would she need another hybrid when she has me?

“I like the way he is, he’s been with me since we were kids so there's no way I could ever replace him like that,” she said and I felt proud. 

“I heard about how much you care for him. I guess rumors were true” she said and I knew she was amongst those who talked about why she couldn’t get a nicer and social hybrid who smiles and dotes on her. I do dote on her… and I’m only nice to her. Everyone else was pushing it. 

“What is he if I can ask?” she said and y/n only sighed while looking up at me. “He’s a puma hybrid from Japan,” she answered. “Woah! I heard puma hybrids were rare! I thought he was just a cat… makes sense then for how tall he is.” she said as she got closer to me. 

“Oh please don’t do that. You’ll make him uncomfortable.” y/n said as I went behind her. 

“You should take him to the training you know. It's for the hybrids who need manners… they are opening classes in your university for hybrids'' she said… she stalked y/n to know what university she was in? She needs a life. 

“Oh… I know of them. I think he is just fine the way he is” y/n said and she bowed. “If you’ll excuse us,” she said and we walked away from the pair. “She was a bitch” y/n muttered and I laughed.

“Calm down, you have an act to uphold,” I said and she sighed. “y/n?” I said and she looked at me with her eyes filled with determination to answer to give me anything I asked for. “Why didn’t you tell me your uni is having hybrid classes?” I asked and she sighed. 

“They're mainly about etiquette. She said how to take care of your owner… how to behave in a social setting, etc” and I nodded. 

“I want to go,” I said and her eyes widened. “But you're perfect–” “No, I’m not… I caused you a lot of trouble. I heard your dad get mad again this morning. He didn’t want me here because of last time” I said and she shook her head. 

“Yah! Don’t do that!” she scolded and I smiled softly. 

“Please? You said you would give me anything I asked for. I want to be a better hybrid for you” 

“I can’t believe I'm agreeing to this,” she said and I smiled. “Thank you for letting me do this,” I said and she sighed. “I hate that the class requires collars though. I would’ve rather you had the tail ring instead” she complained and I chuckled.

“You’ll do great in your midterm, okay? Don’t worry about me” I said as I kissed her cheek. “After we’ll go for some Japanese food,” she said and I grinned. “Takoyaki!” I yelled and she chuckled. “I’ve been craving some curry udon,” she said and I nodded. 

“I’ll do my best for you,” I said and she smiled. “You already are. Don’t change, okay?” she asked and I nodded. I just wanted to improve for her… 

When I entered I was immediately overwhelmed with the many scents of hybrids. I ignored the stares of the familiar scents and went down into the big lecture room. 

I sat down in the middle of the third to first row, not expecting others to approach me. “Ah! I’m not late!” I heard as I saw a Golden

A Retriever hybrid suddenly entered… he didn’t have a collar nor the scent of a domesticated hybrid. He grinned at me and I suddenly regretted staring… “I’m Jake, and you are?” he said as he approached me and sat next to me.

I heard the laughs around us, probably of me socializing with another hybrid. “Riki,” I said and he nodded. “I think your collar is cool!” he said and I chuckled. “Of course it is, I chose it,” I said and he looked confused. 

“Your owner must be kind,” he said with a wagging tail and I chuckled. “Hey, isn’t that miss l/n’s hybrid?” I suddenly heard a bunch of whispers and I sighed and slouched down to my chair. 

“Oh? Do they know you?” he asked and I scoffed. “Don’t get it mixed up, they know OF me, they don’t know me” I said and he nods 

“They seem to know your owner,” he said and I scoffed. “They don’t know her…” I muttered. “Is she nice?” he asked and I laughed. 

“She’s perfect” 

y/n's perspective

“I thought you were going home after?” I heard and I saw Wonyoung with Seonghwa. I nod, “I do, I just need to pick up Niki, he’s taking etiquette classes,” I said and they both froze. “Your dad is making him take classes?” Wonyoung said and I chuckled. 

“No, he wanted them for whatever reason. I tried to convince him otherwise but he insisted” I said and they both looked at each other. “Oh shut up the both of you,” I said and they chuckled as they caught up with me. 

“He’s so spoiled if you just fold like that,” Seonghwa added and I scoffed. “You do spoil that cat a lot” Wonyoung teased and I rolled my eyes. “Have you told Hongjoong–” “He would kill me in my sleep if I ever brought it up” Seonghwa cut me off and I chuckled… that's true. 

We finally made it to the building where the hybrid classes are taking place but I didn’t see Niki… I saw the hybrids out already so where was he? 

“How long is it gonna take for him to come to you?” Wonyoung asked and I didn’t know. I looked at my phone, and the class should’ve already ended by now. “Why’d you even allow it?” Soenghwa asked and I sighed. 

“Cause he wouldn’t let go of it. He begged and begged… I couldn’t keep denying it” I said and they sighed. “She’s whipped for him, that's the answer,” Wonyoung said and Seonghwa nodded. 

“Oh? y/n!!” I heard as I saw the girl from the party again with her hybrid. What was her name again?

“You’re Wonyoung and Seonghwa, right? I’m e/n” she said. “I’m glad to see you’re having Niki taking this class,” she said and I sighed. “His name is Riki,” I said and she looked confused. “Oh? But you call him Niki?” she asked.

“That's a nickname that she only calls him, he will glare or even scoff if he hears you call him that,” Seonghwa said and it was true… I've called him that since I was a kid and yet he never let anyone else call him that. “This class should teach him otherwise,” she said and I had to refrain from scoffing. 

“Oh, you should look into a secondary hybrid,” she said and I glared. 

“I wouldn’t get another one,” I clarified. “Riki would get too jealous,” “Or he’d kick the other hybrid out himself,” Wonyoung and Seonghwa added. 

“But if you were to get one he’d have to comply with her. She’s the owner,” she said and I shook my head. “Well, I was thinking of something cute… maybe a fox? Ooh or a pretty cat!” she said while looking at herself in a pocket mirror fixing her lipstick while her hybrid looked at her with a sad expression.

“I wanna go home” I suddenly heard. Niki? 

“Why do you have scratches on your face? Are you okay?” I asked and he avoided eye contact when I grabbed his jaw to look at his wounds. He nodded, “I wanna go home” he repeated and I sighed. 

“Ok, just let me take this off,” I said as I took off his collar and took out his tail ring. “Riki!! You forgot… Oh. Please don’t be mad at him! He was only defending me!!” I saw a dog hybrid yell while he held Niki’s backpack. Seonghwa grabbed it, holding it for me. 

“Please, it's all my fault. Don’t abandon him because of me!” he pleaded and even bowed. I looked at Niki who looked away. “Why would I abandon you? Niki, what happened?” I asked and the other hybrid soon stood up but looked down to my hands. His collar? I sighed and turned Niki around when I clipped his tail ring. “Thank you for caring about him but he’s not in trouble. You should find your owner, they must be worried about you–” “He’s a stray” I was interrupted by e/n.

A stray? “Did you see? It's why they make the hybrids wear collars because they need to know by the end of the class who is a stray and who is owned. It's a mixture of people like us who pay and hybrids of low status who need major help like him. He’s probably also a runt” she said suddenly in disgust as she stepped back.

“Thank you for looking after Niki,” I said and he nodded with a small smile. I grabbed the backpack from Seonghwa as I looked at him and I saw his worried eyes. “Come on, I'm hungry,” I said as I dragged him away from the lecture hall and everyone else while I heard Wonnie and Seonghwa complain about me abandoning them…

“I still want that udon curry,” I pondered and he sighed. He grabbed his backpack and clipped his collar there as he walked silently. “Did you fight for him?” I asked and he nodded silently.

I smiled. “That’s very kind of you,” I said and from the corner of my eye, he looked at me confused. “What were they doing to him?” I asked and he sighed. “Called him a runt… a stray… useless. It was all when the teacher left for a break and I don’t know why I did but I fought for him” he said and I smiled. 

“That was very brave of you. I’m proud of you Niki!” I said with a grin and he smiled softly. “The teacher gave me a warning cause he said if he told you that you’d return me,” he said and I chuckled. “We’ve been together for years! I could never do that” I said and he nodded. 

“Still want takoyaki?” I asked and he chuckled. “Always!” he yelled as he ran ahead of me. 

“HEY!! NO FAIR!! YOU HAVE LONGER LEGS!!”

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXVII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Firearms/injuries mentioned.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI

----------------------

You closed the shoji door rather roughly and walked away in a bothered, quick pace only stopping when your shoes reached grass.

Despite how insulting the whole meeting with the Zen’in elders had been, was leaving like this the wisest choice?

Probably not, but you could not care less at that moment.

“You look displeased,” the voice of Naoya, accompanied by his unhurried steps through the wooden floor of the engawa, called behind you.

You did not turn around. “And you sound a bit too pleased with yourself.”

“Would it be a crime if I were?”

What Naoya really wondered was would Gojo Satoru be bothered enough to come after them for upsetting you?

He was no fool; he never believed you would accept an invitation into his family. He did not consider you worthy of it either, but the elders had insisted on trying to buy you. A means to an end, they had said.

The whole set up was meant to secure them an opportunity to negotiate with Gojo. His protégé for his lover.

It’s a stupid plan if you ask me, Naoya thought.

He had certain respect for Gojo’s power, for he was the type of man who could and would dirty his hands if it had meaning, if it meant keeping everything. But the elders’ hope was that, just like a few years ago, Gojo Satoru had been civil enough to, as peacefully as possible, arrange the custody of Toji’s son, he would again, trade that same child for your freedom.

“Is that the point of this? To get a reaction out of me?” Naoya heard you ask in a frustrated tone. But you knew it was not that.

They had offered you an obscene fortune and what might have been considered a shortcut to success for your career as a sorcerer, besides a few other ‘benefits’ that would ‘put your family on the map’ of the jujutsu world and pull them out of ‘their inferior condition’.

As if I wanted that… As if we needed their condescendence.

You had been firm when rejecting them, and the air had turned ominous back there when you had left clear you had no intention of entertaining such proposal further.

“Don’t flatter yourself. My siblings have bad taste in partners that’s all.” Naoya was now standing next to you. He gestured ahead. “Shall we?”

Even if they had an ulterior motive, as long as they let you leave, you had no intention of staying there any longer either.

“I can see myself out,” you responded, slightly surprised that Naoya had not started walking ahead of you as he usually did.

His smile was unreadable. “Let me walk you out one last time.”

***

The night had started easy enough. A civilian with a bit of a gift, or rather a bit of a curse, had spotted something weird in an area where a missing child had been reported not long ago, and next thing you knew, an assistant with a freshly opened file was briefing you through the details of your next mission.

“The students we sent last week did not find anything; they exorcised a grade three, and said something about some residual cursed energy around the entrance to the station, but nothing that should be a problem for the average person,” Nitta pointed out while she drove you to the area.

“Why is that section of the station closed?” you asked from the backseat.

Knowing why a curse might appear and stick somewhere was not always necessary, but it would help you form an idea of what you could find.

Nitta kept her eyes on the road and recited form memory. “It was closed for reparations, but no incidents had been reported until three weeks ago, when…”

When three high school boys trespassed and went into the closured section for some sort of dare, and only two of them came out.

You nodded and looked outside.

A first or a special grade would have killed them all for sure.

You had certainly learned to not underestimate curses, regardless of their grade, but after all those pit stops at Shoko’s office, it was refreshing to be assigned a mission that would not be too challenging.

***

Or that is what you thought.

Maybe you were just out of it lately. Why else would you be tired and sore after what had been a rather easy fight?

“My students would have been able to handle it,” you mumbled for your self as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

Perhaps you were distracted, trying too hard to not make mistakes that you ended up making more.

You had not detected the second curse on time to dodge a hit. It was not fatal, and you would not bother Shoko for a little scratch at this ungodly hour of the night.

As you reached your floor, you searched your pocket for your keys.

Huh.

You palmed the other one.

No.

But you had put the keys in your pocket before leaving for the mission, had you not?

You halted before walking down the hall to your door. Had you dropped them somewhere?

What should you do now? Climb to your window outside and try to open it? Force the door? Lord, you had not picked a lock since you and Gojo were teenagers…

That’s right… Gojo.

He still had your spare key, assuming he had not decided to hate you and thrown it away into the sea.

You walked down the hall slowly, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts, almost forcing yourself to finally call him for help.

Screw it. Just call him.

You tapped the phone icon.

Ring and ring but no answer.

Is he ignoring me? No... Be rational. He's probably busy with something else, or asleep, as a normal person would be.

Why did this have to happen at this time?

You stood in front of your door and left a voicemail for Satoru. Hopefully, he would hear it and come over when he had a chance.

On the other hand, if he would not hear it until next morning, maybe trying to pick the lock would be faster.

You were accepting that idea when you pushed the door gently, and to your surprise, it swung open.

Oh.

Had you not closed it properly before leaving?

No, that can’t be.

You had clear recollection of your hand turning the key in the lock to ensure it was closed before leaving.

A burglar? That was possibility.

Your instincts were telling you to not go in, but as we all know, sometimes the body does not listen to the mind before moving.

It was dark.

There had been very few times that Satoru would get into your apartment if you were not there. He was like that stray cat you sometimes fed, that for some reason enjoyed watching your life through your window and would sometimes just cautiously sit inside and wait for you to come home.

But Satoru usually turned the lights on.

As you stepped into your space, staying in the illuminated patch provided by the light that came from the hallway, something felt amiss.

You flipped the switch that lighted the entryway and slowly walked through the narrow hall that divided your living room and your kitchen.

The movement in your kitchen caught your eyes and you quickly moved to turn on the next set of lights, relaxing slightly when a familiar gray cat stared back at you with big yellow eyes.

“It’s you…” you looked at it, and the cat’s pupils seemed to widen, focusing on a spot in your living room.

You heard a click and turned to meet a pair of eyes you had never seen before. He was standing some feet away from you, still partially in the darkness in the living room, but now that your eyes could see him, you could tell, or rather feel, he was a sorcerer. Why had you not perceived him before?

“Who..?” you started asking when your eyes lowered to the handgun in his right hand that was aiming at you.

“It’s not personal,” he said and fired.

----------------------

Note: I'm still not over the manga...

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XXVIII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke

[tinydefector]

Swerve: traditionally, humans gift chocolates and stuffed animals, as a display of hunting prowess and ability to provide, on the fourteenth of February. This is because a deity named saint valentine is said to bless conjux pairs on this day.

-bumpinSUV

Traditions

Swerve x Human reader

Word count; 1k

Warnings: none

Heeeyyyyy Bumpin got some food for you~. Enjoy some clueless and hopeless romantic Swerve becuase I said so.

_______

Swerve stared down at the clunky plastic earth animals and chocolates clutched in his servos, completely befuddled. It had sounded like such a good plan when he came across it! But now, facing his human, uncertainty crept in. He offered an awkward chuckle. "Uh, happy February fourteenth! I know on Earth it's tradition for you guys to, uh, exchange dead animal carcasses and sweets as a romantic gesture. Something about showing you can provide, I think?" 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Swerve hoped he hadn't misunderstood. Or offended them! Primus, why was organic culture so weird? "So, uh, I thought maybe you'd like these gifts. Even though mice probably aren't a big hunting prize for humans." He cringed internally. At how embarrassed he was. "S-so, what do you think? Did I get the tradition right? Or should I just forget the whole—"

They give Swerve a slight look as they cut him off. "Swerve, why would you need to hunt?, plus it's July if my callander is right " They ask while looking at the stuff Swerve had set up, it looked as if he was trying to organise a date for them, it was a rather cute little set up more so than past people they had ever dated before, Their words fall silent as they take in the scene. 

Wincing internally, Swerve fidgeted under their searching gaze. Frag, this was even worse than he'd feared. "Well, ya know, I did some reading that Earth Valentines is about showing you can provide for a mate. And I know I ain't got much to offer organics, but I wanted to try!" He held out the gifts in his massive metal hands, practically trembling. 

"I know it ain't exactly a feast or nothin'. But I saw these toys and thought, maybe they'd pass for some small game? And the chocolate's real! Well, not made of real chocolate, more like synthechoc. But it's what I could get you!" 

Slumping with a sigh, Swerve knew he must look utterly foolish. But they deserved his honesty. "Look, I just wanna show ya I care, okay? Even if I'm lousy at Earth courting."

"My courting..." they go quiet for a moment before starting to giggle which turns into laughter. "Swerve Honey, Valentine's day, is in February. It's a day to spend with loved ones and enjoy each other's company, sometimes trade gifts to special people, which most are fake flowers and sweets" they continue to giggle softly. "What did you think was handsome?" They ask with a smile.

"O-oh." Swerve felt his plating heat as their laughter sank in, truly mortified. He should've just stuck to energon pouring and storytelling, left the Earth traditions well alone! "I, uh, may have misunderstood some cultural exchange files," he admitted bashfully. "Thought it was about proving yourself as a good provider! You know, strong and capable." 

He scuffed his pede sheepishly. "Maybe shoulda just asked you straight out, huh? Instead of all this." Swerve gestured ruefully at the mess of toys and candy. They smile and grab his servos. 

A warm glow flooded his Spark at their smile, though. Maybe he hadn't fragged it up totally. "So, uh, does that mean...you'd still consider spending time with me? We could watch a flick, share some high grade—" He cycled a vent, fans whirring. "I just wanna make you happy, anyhow I can. Without any mouse-hunting required."

They laugh lightly as they move towards him. "Swerve, please it's OK, calm down" they call out while waiting for him to sit down so they can at least touch his faceplate. "Yes you probably should have come to me to ask about it, but now I'm more interested in who told you about Valentine's day." they hum while pressing a kiss to his nasal ridge. 

Swerve's vents stuttered as their lips brushed his plating in a gentle kiss. "W-well, you know how it is - a mech hears stuff in the bar sometimes," he replied shyly, fans whirring as they caressed his face. "I think maybe Rung was telling Rodimus about Earth traditions, and overheard Whirl say something about hunting prowess being important for it." 

He groaned, covering his optics. "Frag, I should've known better than to trust second-hand cultural osmosis from that glitchheads, i justed wanted to do something special for you." Lowering his hand, Swerve gazed down at them hopefully. "Sorry about the mess, forgive my clumsy courting attempt? There's still a whole stash of synthechoc with your designation on it." 

He's still sheepish as they laugh at him, their hand trying to keep it in and not embarrass Swerve more. " Maybe you could, um, give me some proper pointers? About Earth holidays and such? I'd really like to get it right next time." They give him another soft kiss which he melts into.

 "Think we might have to talk about human holidays, and Swerve I don't expect you to have to follow human stuff. You know that right?" They ask softly tracing his face.

Swerve leaned happily into their gentle touch, systems buzzing with joy. "I know, I know. Don't gotta do human things if they don't make sense," he conceded affectionately. 

"It's just..." He vented softly, captured by their smile. "I wanna understand where you come from, y'know? Be able to celebrate the special days that are important to you. Share in your culture."

His fans hitched as their fingers traced the seams of his faceplates. How did they always make him feel so calm yet alive all at once? "So maybe lessons would help this fool bot out, huh?" Swerve ventured shyly. He nuzzled into their hand with a lovesick sigh. "I just want to be able to spend time with you doin things that are important, that's really all I want, sweetspark. To be wherever you are."

 "Alright, how about we set up your hab and watch some vids.?" They inquire with a sly smile on their face.

Swerve perked up, any trace of embarrassment melting away in his eagerness. His engine gave a happy rev, hope blooming in his spark. Clapping his servos together, he bounced on his pedes like an excited sparkling. "Oh frag yes, I'll fire up the holoprojector right away!" 

In an instant he had them swept into his arms, cradling them gently against his chassis as he strode off toward his berth. The gifts were forgotten in his joyful haste. "You're gon' teach me everything, sweetspark! Holidays, customs, what all those weird organic dishes are!" He nuzzled their cheek fondly as he walked.

________

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[lunamond]

"And yet you toil still in service to men. Your father, your husband, your son. You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?"

Rhaenys Targaryen, Ep 9

There are a lot of moments in Hotd that are quite dumb. But this is probably one of my most hated quotes in the whole show.

What does Rhaenys even mean by this?

"You toil in service of men"???

Ehm, Rhaenys?? That's literally all you've been doing this whole season?!

There could definitely have been a version of Rhaenys (based on the book) who is ambitious and focused on her own power, but that is absolutely not show!Rhaenys. Throughout the show, Rhaenys continuously helps Corlys to advance his various schemes to build his legacy.

Not her or even their legacy, no, it's all about HIS legacy.

She is even willing to sacrifice her children for this purpose (marrying Laena to Viserys, and Laenor to Rhaenyra). And while she is critical of this both times, she still goes along with her husband’s demands.

Her behaviour perfectly lines up with what Alicent says:

“We do not rule, but we may guide the men that do.”

And then the most offensive parts:

"You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison."

Ok? What should Alicent do then? Just casually dismantle the entire system of patriarchy?

This line is just utterly baffling to me. It would be one thing if this moment revealed a deep internal bias on Rhaenys' part, but based on the way this entire scene is framed and discussed by the fandom, it seems to be meant as a badass moment in which Rhaenys really calls out Alicent.

But, if we take this prison metaphor a bit further:

If Westerosi patriarchy is the prison and Alicent crowning her son and exerting power only through her influence over him is merely a window, then what does that mean for every Targaryen dragonriding princess or queen that have come before her?

What have they done to dismantle this prison?

I'm personally confused about what exactly Rhaenys is calling Alicent out for? Is she criticising Alicent for not elevating other women? Is she criticising her for not breaking herself out and seizing power?

If it is the former, then Rhaenys is being quite hypocritical, considering that Rhaenyra, in the previous episode, just convinced her to give Driftmark to Lucerys instead of Baela.

Rhaenys herself has scarcely done anything to liberate herself, her daughter or her granddaughter.

If it is the latter, then this is quite tone deaf, considering Rhaenys is part of the ruling dynasty, almost became ruling queen, and in her big show of defiance is literally breaking through the ground massacring hundreds on a dragon.

Rhaenys calling out another woman who has none of these things for not breaking free of these constraints while she herself couldn’t even manage it is quite frankly dumb as hell.

"Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?"

This last sentence is probably the dumbest part of this entire quote.

I'm quite honestly baffled by what Rhaenys is even supposed to mean with this. Is she asking if Alicent ever considered ruling through her husband/son? Then, yeah, that's literally what she is trying to do.

But if Rhaenys is asking if Alicent imagined herself literally sitting the throne in her own right.

Like, no? Alicent is only a consort?! Should she do a coup? Overthrow the Targaryen dynasty?

Ultimately, this scene is just really indicative of Hotd's greatest flaw. The writers are aware that the driving source of conflict in both Alicent and Rhaenyra's lifes is the misogyny they experience, but not enough to comprehend this struggle in a nuanced and complicated way.

So instead, they end up putting their female characters in anti female oppression and pro oppression categories.

Either they're rebellious punk rock and not like other girls, or they are a prudish trade wife and are part of women for trump. Either they're Team Black or Team Green.

This is just super disappointing because for one feudal patriarchy doesn't work like that, but it also takes away all sympathy from the women who don't have the ability for open defiance out.

In the end, the show is more concerned with giving the "good" women, badass girlboss moments, showing how they defy the system.

[sgiandubh]

C might mean well, but I find businesses using charity to sell suspicious.

Dear Provocative Anon,

What you say deserves an audio (there have been two of them two weeks ago, compensating for last week's silence). I have many things to tell you and please excuse the delay:

They really can't win, with people like you, can they? And that goes for both C and S, mind you. No matter what they do and try to promote as a side project, there is always going to be someone unhappy and vocal about it. When it's not you complaining 'business using charity to sell' is 'suspicious', there's the other fuckwit asking recently why S hasn't given all MPC's profit to charity, as Paul Newman did with Newman's Own.

So, I will be brutally honest with you, Anon. I have thoughts and questions about your own point of view and this is partially why it took me so long to answer you. It would seem you are not familiar at all with what is called 'corporate social responsibility' (CSR), since at least the Sixties. Which means, in a nutshell, companies who choose to focus part of their activity and dedicate part of their profits to charitable projects. It is done with various degrees of ethics, success and bona fides all around the world, and it is often used as a strong marketing and sales argument.

Think about these people, whose brand is probably immediately recognizable wherever you go, spare perhaps Pyongyang:

I just picked this Coca Cola Foundation recent CSR project in Brazil totally randomly, using Google. Some might think it's just another cynical diversion: one of the world's biggest corporate profiteers, happily contributing to the current obesity pandemic (including in Latin America), suddenly showing one of its biggest markets they do have a conscience, after all, and a social one to boot. And addressing, at the same time, one of the continent's post-colonial bleeding wounds, which is to say, the organic imbalance between rich and poor, as far as access to means of production, land ownership and use and sales opportunities go. 480 farmers benefitting from Coca Cola's magnanimity is probably but a tiny drop of hope in an ocean of dour social injustice, but the truth is, Anon, if nobody does anything good, then nothing good will happen at all. It is as simple as that, and while their modus operandi is probably not exactly my cup of tea, you will have to admit it works, at least to some extent and for some people. Plus it greatly enhances the company's do-good, sensible and reliable global image, because of course, what happens right now in the state of Minas Gerais is but a tiny part of a bigger strategy.

Might I add that even those robber barons, à la Cornelius Vanderbilt or Jay Gould, who made their ruthless fortunes building the railroads of a still very young United States of America, ended up giving a very small part of their same fortune to various charities. It wasn't nearly enough what we would consider as 'reasonable', in 2024, but it did start a philanthropic trend, that took considerable speed after the 1919 Boston Molasses Disaster. The Sixties have just added more pragmatism and gave a name to what was, at its very start, quite an opportunistic endeavor.

Even so, Vanderbilt and Gould themselves did not invent anything, really. One should look to good old Europe to find what is probably the first big CSR project in human history, still going strong since 1521. May I introduce you to the Augsburg Fuggerei:

[for even more pious charity: https://www.fugger.de/en/fuggerei]

Renting one of those wonderful Hansel and Gretel houses for less than one euro/year, plus three daily Hail Mary is something to behold, right? Jakob Fugger the Young, the guy who had this brilliant idea (which, might I add, is still run and operated by the Fugger banker family, even nowadays) was literally a ruthless kingmaker, a colonial trade and exploration pioneer, but also a religious bigot who flatly refused to extend his charity to Protestant families. Still, his pious dream goes on - the Fugger Family Foundation even actively plans its next 500 years. This is Germany, after all 😉.

Those people’s money stinks more of corruption and crime than S or C’s ever could, Anon. Still, they are remembered as benefactors, by many. History is seldom cruel to those who are willing to pay for their posterity.

But you know what, Anon? Compared to the Fuggers and the Vanderbilts and the Goulds, S and C are really small fish in an even smaller, fickler pond. I think they are doing it out of their good heart and I think they are honestly, genuinely responsive to the idea of giving a chance to young, struggling artists. But, in the process, are they also trying to market themselves as more approachable and less controversial, considering the (oh, I shall never tire to repeat this, with gusto) cosmic amount of bullshit plaguing their respective public images? My somewhat cynical answer is also yes, Anon. To which may I immediately add that it's not even important: all that counts are the tangible results of whatever good things they do with their booze and/or fitness profits.

Results and helping trigger a change in one's life is all that really interests me, Anon. It seems to bother you, though, so I will cheekily end this long rant with a couple of questions: do you have a problem with poverty? do you believe in giving people a (second) chance, or do you think only the rich are worth considering and valuable?

If so, I honestly pity you, girl. For the real indigent in all this might be you.

[rekino2114]

Going trick-or-treating with chara

Halloween post #5

Pairing: female chara dreemurr x gn reader

Summary:Frisk managed to convince chara to celebrate Halloween and go trick-or-treating with her. She did it by promising her 2 things:free chocolate and getting to spend time with you

A/n:The headcanon that chara loves chocolate is one I've seen around a lot, and it's really adorable, so I'm keeping it for my version of her

"This is so dumb"

"Don't say that, chara, it's gonna be fun"

It was Halloween, and Frisk decided to celebrate the holiday by doing a classic:trick-or-treating. Even if the monsters probably didn't know about it, she still wanted the three humans in the underground to celebrate

While convincing you was pretty easy, because you wanted to have fun too, trying to get chara to participate was harder. She didn't really see the point and called the tradition stupid, but after telling her she could have a lot of free chocolate (and be with you), she agreed even if reluctantly

"What's with the costume anyway?"

"Hm? What do you mean? You told me to wear this"

"I told you to dress up as a devil. You put on some plastic horns and called it a day, that's barely a costume"

"I don't need a costume, I'm already a demon basically, and what about you, you just cut a hole into a sheet and used it as a shirt, put on fake wings and a halo......wait now that I'm thinking about it, why are we matching? Shouldn't I be matching with y/n? They're my partner"

"Ohhhh, you wanna see them that badly?"

Chara blushed and raised her voice at frisk

"S-shut up, I was just asking"

"Suuuuuure anyway they should be here any mome-"

"Hey babe, hi frisk"

Your arrival made both of the girls smile (even if chara's was a bit more subtle) and wave at you

"Hey y/n, chara couldn't wait to see you, she wanted to-"

"I already told you shut up.....hey y/n....n-nice costume by the way"

"Oh, thanks, yours is nice too"

The red eyed girl gave a smug look at her friend while smiling more at you

"Oooook, let's go now. Everyone has their basket, right?"

You two nodded as frisk grinned

"Wonderful, ok everyone, we're gonna have the best trick-or-treating the underground has ever seen"

"Probably the only one"

"A-anyway, we're gonna get so many candies! Let's start"

You three went to different houses to trick-or-treat and actually got quite a lot of sweets, mainly because of chara terrifying every monster into giving her chocolate despite frisk constantly telling her not to

"I gotta admit, that was pretty fun, I should have listened to you from the start frisk"

".....do you think it was fun just because you got to scare everyon with your face"

"What about it? Isn't the whole point of Halloween fear?"

"....I guess"

"And it was because of chara that we got so many candies, so I'd say it was worth it. Thanks, babe,"

"See y/n gets it"

"Whatever, let's just go back home"

You went there and sprinted past toriel to your bedroom where you sat on the bed and emptied your baskets on it

"OK, so should we trade?"

"GIVE ME ALL THE CHOCOLATE!!"

without warning, chara instantly grabbed every single chocolate bar and chocolate flavored sweet that was there before unwrapping one of them and starting to eat it

".......I should have expected that. Well, I guess we can trade the non chocolate stuff between ourselves y/n"

You did just that and ate the candies you got until chara approached you with a bar of chocolate in her hand

"H-hey, I'm full, and this was leftover so....... wanna share?

"Oh~ chara sharing chocolate, I didn't think that was possible, I guess that's what love does, though,"

Chara simply glared at frisk while you laughed and snapped the bar in half, giving yourself a piece

"Sure, I like chocolate almost as much as you, so thanks"

"Don't mention it"

You and chara ate the bar while smiling at each other. When you finished, you looked at her and kissed her cheek, which made her blush a lot and caused frisk to laugh again

"W-what was that for?"

"What? So I can't kiss my girlfriend now?"

"N-no, I'm not saying that just-"

She suddenly pulled you closer to her and kissed you passionately on the lips, making you melt into the moment

"If you want to kiss me, commit to it"

"Sure thing, sorry......you taste like chocolate"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No it's still delicious, just like your regular kisses"

"Good"

She hugged you, pulling you closer to her once again

"Happy Halloween.......love"

"Happy Halloween to you too sweetie"

[buckevantommy]

did you dislike the ep in general, or just the lack of tommy and bucktommy?

i have a headache and i should probably rewatch the ep again once I'm feeling physically better before i answer this but having an achy head means my inhibitions are lowered and my brain to mouth filter is taking a nap, so i'ma let loose..

on the one hand: yes of course i'm annoyed there was no hot pilot in the planemergency. i honestly wasn't even expecting any bucktommy scenes, but i thought tommy would be at the airport staging area, or giving updates from his chopper in the air, etc. i am baffled that tim didn't include their resident pilot in this emergency at all; the repelling into the cockpit might be a little bit too insane even for this show, but i really think they could've utilised him in the air traffic control tower from the start - can you imagine tommy telling jem over the radio that he's doing a good job? i can, and my heart melts. 🫠

on the other hand: i get it. it sucks, but i get it. lou is a guest star, this emergency was centred around bathena, there was barely any room in the plot for the 118 let alone other characters. tommy could have been included more easily in the plot imho, but i have to remind myself it probably all comes down to budget and call lists and not wanting to split focus. this is the downside of tv shows unfortunately - it all comes down to money and time limits and star power; were this a book series there would be no excuse not to include tommy, and thus i will henceforth bury myself in fics that do just that. 📚

as for the whole of the ep: ...eh? here's the thing: i really love bathena in the cruise ship disaster so i think having them be the focus of the next disaster is difficult because they can't measure up to that epic chaos and emotional weight in my eyes. i also find it strange that they got the focus of two disasters two seasons in a row, but again: the star power of angela bassett is totally understandable, she really brings it in those disaster scenes and i would love to see her in more roles that balance heavy action and strong emotion bc she is a powerhouse in that dynamic. 💥

BUT - and maybe this comes down to the direction and editing in part - to me, there was a lack of urgency in the plane stuff this ep, which was strange considering all that was going on. i think they ended it too soon and the addition of the fire on the ground didn't really add anything except a fun little scene where buck tried to use a prop hose. it felt kind of.. anticlimactic? i loved the insane shot of bobby standing on the engine meeting the plane nose, but.. *sigh* yeah, i just wasn't on the edge of my seat. i actually prefer the tension and plane plot happenings in 8x02, and when i watched 8x02 live i was a little disappointed, but now i prefer it to this ep. 🛬

i really would've liked to see more of the 118 lending a hand in this emergency. i'm so glad we got as much of buck as we did, and seeing maddie and josh was good too, but.. yeah. that staging video we saw weeks ago of all the engines leaving the hanger just ending up feeling pointless? i was so looking forward to more of the ensemble cast and other firefighter extras helping on the scene, and it seems those potential scenes were traded in for more bathena focus and to me it just wasn't worth the trade. i love their love, but i think tim could've included more characters in the entirety of the planemergency. 🚒

as for athena's ending: returning to the aiport to get a real little black book was odd imho; they could've gone anywhere, and honestly i was kinda hoping for location change, but they were sticking with the theme so i get it. but i really liked the return to the mystery and the impending danger of the case, and the way they tied things up for athena's past was really nicely done, she deserves to have peace and closure and to know it wasn't all for naught. 💝

as for the gerrard stuff: unexpected! wonderful! distrubing af! many of us called it, that gerrard would take buck under his wing (re: golf date) and he'd be faced with this new dilemma of no longer being gerrard's target but of being his chosen one; i foresee angst and conflict in buck's future, specifically in his relationship with tommy - who will likely try to warn him against letting gerrard get too close and worrying over him - but also with the rest of the 118 as he reaps rewards he didn't want while they have to continue bearing the weight of gerrard's captaincy and even moreso now that buck is no longer his main target. 🫂

the gerrard stuff is the only real setup we got for upcoming episodes, but i'm curious to see how the planemergency affects brad and moreover his friendship(?)/dynamic with bobby and the hotshots job. we obviously are going to get more henren drama with ortiz and the kids, which will be interesting - i'm really looking forward to getting more ortiz in the plot. eddie and his moustache will feature, looking forward to seeing how he's coping with chris' absence and how that changes. 👀 lots of good stuff to come and i'm looking forward to all of it and to putting this planemergency behind me (however: the beenado will live on in my heart forever 🐝🌪️).

[mercy-burning]

(1) the landlord. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the landlord sets off to bring the doctor out of his shell and acquaint him with the town. content: strong language, inebriation

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist || main masterlist

———

Four snowfalls have graced Sardinia in the past month, and Y/N is starting to wonder if the poor doctor had gotten stuck in his house, or even frozen to death outside. With limbs thinner than the pine needles scattered all through town, he's probably snapped in several places. She jokingly wonders if she'll see dismembered fingers and legs in his yard, but finds that in actuality, Winter has seemed to treat the doctor well.

At least, well enough to where he can handle the yard.

There's a clear, albeit jagged, pathway from the gravel road to the front door, and even the narrow driveway and the pale vintage Wagoneer parked in the middle of it aren't completely caked in white. It's not perfect by any means, but good enough to get you on the move in a hurry. Kind of important for an on-call doctor.

That being said, no one has seen him in almost a month.

News doesn't take long to travel, especially regarding new and important residents since they only come around once in a blue moon, and still, not a single visit. No stories, no "I heard"s, no calls... Whether it's a testament to the population's good health or unwillingness to let in the new remains to be seen. And as a lifelong resident of Sardinia and landlord to the new doctor, Mayor Stanton has tasked Y/N to get him out and about to get things back to a sort-of-normal.

Either he'll get settled in and fit in nicely, or everyone is going to ask for a trade-in. She hopes it's the former, because a repeat of The Revolving Arsenal of Dentists sounds like an absolute nightmare, but even if it ends up being a disaster, anything would be better than this limbo of not knowing. It's like a tarp of tension has settled over the top of Sardinia and trapped everyone underneath. It's a weird feeling that Y/N hopes will go away after today. If not to bring the doctor out of his shell and into public, then to relay information about him or his credentials to get everyone more comfortable with his presence.

She's also decided he isn't horrible to look at.

Not that that's relevant...

She knocks on the door three times, loud and staccato. Her knuckles sting at the contact and she holds back a hiss, hearing her late grandmother's trill warning, "You've lived here all your life, Moonface, you know better than to do anything outside without gloves!" It's true, but this is the only stop she has to make today, and then she's determined to go back to the safety of her own home and live out the rest of her 'day off' in peace.

"Doctor Reid, are you home?"

The door swings open in only a few seconds, and the doctor appears before her, a soft smile adorning his perfectly sculpted city-boy face. They don't have faces like those in Sardinia... "Oh, Y/N, hi... Is everything alright?"

"No. Uh... I mean, yes. No one's sick or injured or anything. But no. Everyone in town is just reasonably hesitant about a stranger being their primary care provider, so we thought it would be best to... Help you get acquainted with Sardinia. We wanted to—"

"We?" he prompts with an arched brow, looking over her shoulder.

"Everyone," Y/N answers dumbfounded, and suddenly a little irritated that he interrupted her.

He blinks for a few seconds, seemingly unsure whether or not she's being serious, and then breathes out a laugh, a small cloud forming in front of her eyes. It annoys her for some reason, and she swats in front of her face, trying to get his essence away from her.

"Why don't you come inside? It's cold out today," the doctor says, stepping aside to make room.

Y/N shifts and places her hands on her hips. "The thing about this town is that we know almost everything about everyone. I'm not saying you should read us your diary, Doctor, but Mayor Stanton and everyone else who came to the town meeting last night agree that you should come out and introduce yourself to some of our residents. It might help them warm up to you. So—"

"Here, you should really come inside."

"Why do you keep interrupting me?"

"You're bleeding."

Doctor Reid nods down towards Y/N's feet, where drops of crimson stick out against the snow like a murder scene, and she frantically looks down at her knuckles, which had, in fact, cracked open against the door.

"Shit," she hisses, shoving her hand in her pocket. "I should go take care of this. Sorry to bleed all over your porch."

"Y/N, it's what I'm here for. Let me clean you up. Please, come inside?"

Despite the deep embarrassment she's feeling, she agrees and steps into the small cabin home, instantly twitching her nose at how different the space smells after only a month. Not in a bad way, of course. It went from a near-abandoned basement-smelling fixer-upper to a homely winter vacation residency in such a short time, it's almost impressive.

You sure do take your time settling in...

The doctor laughs, and Y/N realizes she'd said it out loud, feeling embarrassed again as she removes her coat and drapes it over the coat rack.

"Forgive me. I'm used to train stations and apartment buildings, this is all very new."

She turns and can't quite meet his eye. "I'm sorry. I want to say I can understand, but I've lived here all my life, so... Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Have a seat, I'll get you fixed up here in just a second." It sounds like he's smiling, but she wouldn't know. She refuses to look at him.

"Well, you've made the place look very nice," she says, trying for some recovery. "To be honest I wasn't really sure if it'd be livable. I've been working on it for almost a year, but Stanton deemed it 'good enough' and I just hoped he was right." Especially since I scrubbed the fuck out of these floors for days... If there had to be one perfect thing about this place, it was going to be a shiny foundation to walk upon...

"Well, then I'm glad you like what you see."

She can't tell if the words hold playful suggestion or if she's just really gone that long without a fling. Suddenly the room is hot, and she wishes she'd just turned around and left the doctor alone.

When he touches her hand, she jumps, and he pulls back. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says with a laugh, reaching for her hand again and getting to work cleaning the wound.

The floor is suddenly very eye-catching despite how it hasn't changed at all. The hardwood is swept nearly to perfection without so much as a speck of dust, and in a way she's relieved to know he keeps the house as clean as she keeps her own. If nothing else, the Landlord/Tenant relationship should be a solid one.

"Can I ask where you studied medicine?"

Another laugh from him. She's starting to really dislike those...

"Gathering information to relay to Everyone, are you?"

"No," she exaggerates. Her eyes flick upwards to see him and almost retreat immediately. He's looking straight at her with amusement dancing over his features. "I just... I'd like to know my doctor's credentials, that's all."

"Hmmm. Understandable." He finishes cleaning her cracked knuckles, starting to apply gauze.

He doesn't answer, though, and Y/N sighs. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"There's nothing wrong with being curious, Y/N... And... I understand, there's probably some... uncertainty about inviting a total stranger to be the town doctor. I apologize to you, and to Everyone, for being elusive. But I haven't been this far away from home in a long time, and it's taking me a little longer than I'd like to... make myself at home, so to speak."

His vulnerability is a shock, and suddenly Y/N feels terrible about bombarding him, so she softly squeezes his hand, since he hadn't let go of it after taping up the gauze like a metaphorical bow on top. She even manages to hold his gaze for longer than a millisecond, feeling herself warm involuntarily at the tenderness he's exuding.

"You don't have to apologize," she tells him earnestly. "Sardinia is lucky to have you."

Doctor Reid smiles and squeezes her hand back before letting go and turning to put away his first-aid kit.

The moment had passed just as quickly as it came. No Thank You? Not even a nod of thanks?

Y/N huffs and stands, walking to her coat. "Sorry again for bleeding all over your porch. And thank you for the help. Everyone is eagerly awaiting to meet you, so don't be a stranger. Stanton sent me here to invite you to BAR for dinner and a tour of the town. I told him that might be a little lame, but he insisted, so... Show up if you want to. I'll be there at 6, but I'm sure Stanton will be there all day in the event that you decide you just can't wait for a town tour."

All enthusiasm has left her voice in favor of sarcasm as she dresses and reaches for the front door. She's ready to put the doctor and his first-aid kit in the past, and then he calls out her name, stopping her in her tracks.

"Tell Everyone the answer is Johns Hopkins."

Y/N raises an eyebrow, confused for a split second before her question echoes in the back of her mind. Can I ask where you studied medicine?

She finds herself throwing one of his laughs right back at him. "Tell them yourself, Doctor."

And then she opens the door and meets the bright white Alaskan winter, unaware of the shit-eating grin he wears on his face behind her.

———

Dear Mom,

My landlord, Y/N, came to visit me today. My first patient in Sardinia. I'm not sure what type of omen that is, considering I'm pretty sure she's the most easily irritable person I've ever met, but... She is also my landlord, so maybe I shouldn't push her buttons. The last thing I need is an eviction in a town that may as well be the living equivalent of an eviction itself.

I digress.

She and Mayor Stanton want me to come into town tonight for dinner and a tour of Sardinia, which I can't imagine will last very long unless we go underground somewhere or I end up being interrogated—I mean interviewed—by every single person who lives here.

I'm really trying to settle in and make myself comfortable, but... I miss home. I miss my family. I miss you.

Starting over always sounds like the perfect plan, but in all honesty, it's exhausting. Clean slates are too clean. There's room for all sorts of lies, like telling your landlord you studied medicine at Johns Hopkins when you haven't academically studied medicine at all. Soon everyone in town will know, and the giant lie I've been living in will only grow deeper until I can't reach the bottom and I drown.

I don't know what to do, Mom. I wish you were here to give me some advice, or even just some comfort.

For now though, I suppose I'll get ready, for dinner at a place called "BAR". I hope it's an acronym for something.

———

"Very creative, Sardinia..."

Spencer sighs and shakes his head amusedly as he pulls up to the town's supposed "only restaurant". He won't know until he walks inside, but there's a sarcastic feeling he can't shake, that BAR isn't actually a restaurant.

Plowed snow crunches gently under his feet as he shuts the door to his hand-me-down Wagoneer, and the sun has set to the point of near-dark. Against the snow, it casts Downtown Sardinia in a purple tint that feels desolate and liminal. The bright neon BAR sign blinks green, giving the street a little bit of life, but not much. He imagines it's probably more lively during the day.

Spencer focuses on breathing in the sharp cool air before bracing himself for the inside of his dinner destination.

He's surprised (and admittedly relieved) to discover that BAR is truly a healthy half-and-half concession of bar and restaurant. Booths and tables stretch over the entire floor, each one practically full, with families and singles and groups of friends. Despite the snow outside and the multi-colored Christmas lights wrapped around the high ceiling beams and on every pillar one could possibly spot, he's grateful for the lack of Christmas music in November.

The bell above the door rings as he steps inside, and a few heads turn. The man behind the bar looks out to Spencer, and then to two individuals seated in front of him with a nod. Y/N and Stanton turn around, the former with a quirked eyebrow and the latter with an energetic wave and a bellowing "Doctor! Welcome in!"

It wasn't enough to silence the establishment, but there's enough of a shift in volume that Spencer feels on the spot, warming under everyone's scrutiny. He decides to ignore it, smiling as brightly as he can to the mayor and weaving through tables to approach him.

"Lovely to see you again, my boy!" Stanton greets with a firm hand to the shoulder. He has to stand up on the edge of the bottom of the bar chair to reach, and Y/N nearly falls to the ground trying to steady him.

"Stan, sit down!" the barman scolds. "If you fall and bust your head on the bar again, I'm putting it on your tab."

Spencer swears he almost sees Y/N loosen her grip on the mayor, a hint of consideration flashing behind her eyes. The thought makes him laugh.

"Don't worry, I've got a steady hand," Spencer offers, taking the burden from his landlord and helping Stanton down into his chair. He's obviously pretty inebriated, though it wouldn't be a surprise to learn that he always is in some capacity.

"Right. Sardinia's new doctor, in the flesh."

Stanton chugs the last of his bottle and smiles at the barman. "Sonny, this is Spencer Reid. Doctor Reid, this is Sonny, the best bartender Sardinia has to offer."

"I'm the only bartender Sardinia has to offer," Sonny counters, but he smiles anyway. "But I have the best team ready to cook up whatever you're hungry for. What'll it be, Doctor? You want a menu?"

"Umm... Sure, a menu sounds great."

Stanton scoots over to another stool, slapping his palm down on the one he was just in. "Sit, Doctor! Make yourself at home!"

Home, he thinks somberly as he sits down, only slightly uncomfortable by how warm the seat is. I suppose this really is my home for the next... He doesn't even know how long he'll be in Sardinia. There's no predicted timeline for any of it. No way to know how soon he can go back to his regular life.

"Y/N came to visit you, I see," Stanton says, drunken suggestion dripping from every word. "I sure hope she didn't injure herself on purpose just to scope out the new help..."

"Stan," she sighs, sliding her menu over to Spencer. Red-faced at the mayor's insinuation, he glances down at her hand, which is still wrapped. "If I were going to injure myself on purpose for the sake of a man, it wouldn't be in Sardinia."

His gaze lingers on her a little too long, like a challenge, until she notices and scoots off the chair. "I'm gonna use the restroom. Excuse me, boys."

Stanton waves her off, and Spencer watches her path to the far corner of the room until she disappears, and he's forced to look down at the menu.

He settles on a cheeseburger and fries, and gets an odd look from Sonny when he orders an iced sweet tea instead of beer.

"Not a drinker?" the mayor asks.

"Not really... Plus, I am an on-call doctor now, so being under the influence probably doesn't give a good first impression."

"How true that is! I knew I liked you, Doctor," Stanton bellows, breaking apart a peanut from the dish in front of him.

"Please, call me Spencer."

"Nonsense! First names are for strangers. You're part of the Sardinia family now, and an important one at that. Doctor is a fine title, so keep it you shall!"

He doesn't see the point in arguing with him, but he also wishes he'd stop speaking like a character from a 40s movie. It's taking him out of an already foreign atmosphere he's trying to adjust to.

Part of him wishes Y/N would come back quickly to tether him to normalcy. Despite the obvious distaste she has for him and his innate inability to keep down his nervous laughter when she's around, his morning with her had him craving good, quick conversation since she left. She's witty and snappy, and his years of profiling have led him to believe there's something beautiful hiding under that cold exterior she has.

He kind of wants to keep digging until he finds what it is.

But, as it stands, she is his landlord, and he gets the feeling that one wrong move could have him sleeping outside. Perhaps on a frozen body of water where no one will ever find him.

She returns just after Sonny serves up Spencer's plate, and before he can do anything with it, she reaches over and steals a fry before taking the coat draped over the back of her chair.

"And where do you think you're going?" Stanton questions. "There's still a tour to be had!"

Y/N smiles. "Stan, if Sonny's the best bartender Sardinia has to offer, then you're the best tour guide. You don't need me for anything. Doctor Reid is in good hands." She looks at him and he almost crumbles under the weight of mischief in her eyes, like she's read his mind and became determined to pawn him off to the drunken mayor as some sort of game. A part of him wishes he could play along and convince her to stay, but all he can do is watch as she throws her jacket on over her arms and turns to the barman. "Thanks for dinner, Sonny," she says brightly. "It was a ten out of ten, as always."

"A pleasure, Moonface, as always," Sonny throws back with a smirk, and Y/N groans.

"When are you all gonna let that go?"

"Never," Sonny and Stanton, and another woman at the bar seated next to her, offer in unison.

Spencer can't help but smile at the inside joke he knows nothing of. It's like he's back home, roped into watching a sit-com with Penelope half-way through the season where he doesn't quite yet understand everyone's backstories and dynamics. Only, this time he actually finds himself eager to figure it out.

Y/N zips up her jacket and steals another fry before she bounds off, the bell chiming after her.

Even with a plate full of food gone in about twenty minutes, Spencer still feels a lingering hunger.

[ladywaffles]

From the prompt list: icemav + 6. patting the other’s head?? If it inspires

icemav + patting the other’s head

i do not know the meaning of brevity. send me a pairing and a prompt!

To be a fighter pilot, you have to have ego.

It’s not just a requirement, it’s an immutable law. It’s on the checklist of fighter pilot eligibility. One: candidate must be a United States citizen of sound mind and body. Two: candidate must have a four-year degree from an accredited educational institution. Three: candidate must have ego the size of the Grand Canyon and the guts to back it up.

Fighter pilots are young, good-looking guys who grow into stately, well-tailored men. Elegant. Gentlemanly. Airs of class that have since ebbed away in the general population, but which find a home in the handful of officers who call themselves naval aviators, and they wear them damn well.

Ice has always been particular about his appearance; it’s hard not to be painfully aware of it, with twelve years of detentions earned for uniform infractions at elite private schools and four years of the Naval Academy bearing down on him. He holds it together through the six months of hellish diagnoses it takes for the doctors to figure out what’s making him sick (cancer), where the cancer is (his lungs), and where it metastasized to (his throat). There’s never a hair out of goddamn place through the whole endeavor. But when they finally figure it out and get him on a chemotherapy plan, the pristine picture of the Iceman falls apart.

His tan is the first to go; if he’s being honest, it was already on its way out. It’s been nigh on ten years since he was last in a cockpit, and trading his F-14 for another stripe on his sleeve meant he hardly saw the sun in his cramped offices. Maverick used to tease that he looked like a vampire, losing the California bronze that’s been embedded in his skin since he was old enough to walk. Jokes like that are far and few between now that it’s no longer the job that’s draining his color, but his own body.

In the end, it’s easy to let the tan go. What really gets him, what really hurts, is when his hair starts falling out. Iceman has impeccable hair. The sun rises in the east. The facts of life. He puts off shaving it as long as he can, because yes, it’s just hair, and yes, it should grow back—the doctors assured him it would probably grow back—but dammit, he’s a fighter pilot, and he has his pride.

He sulks about it for weeks: gently combing his hair, putting as little product into it as possible so as to prolong the life of the strands that remain, taking shorter showers to reduce the likelihood of tufts of blonde falling out and running down the drain.

Maverick is solid at his side, his own hair dark as the day they met. In the deepest parts of his heart, he hates Maverick just a little bit for it. The asshole doesn’t even have the decency to be going gray yet, and here Ice is losing it all.

But then Maverick will tell him he passed his driving test and got a proper driver’s license so he could drive Ice back and forth from his appointments so Ice wouldn’t have to ride in a smelly taxi on the way home when he’s already starting to feel nauseous, or he’ll smile at Ice when he gets home and say, “Hey, I called up Wolf and he found that baked potato soup recipe from that place we ate at in ’96,” or he’ll sit at Ice’s side at two in the morning on the bathroom floor when the vertigo has Ice kneeling at the altar of the porcelain throne, even though he has to be at the base at five-thirty to do briefings and pre-flight checks, and Ice can’t remember why he was annoyed about Maverick’s hair at all.

Maverick drives him to his next chemo appointment. He sits in the waiting room, perusing the latest copy of People Magazine. Maverick hates People Magazine, but there’s not much else the hospital waiting room can offer in terms of salient literature, so People Magazine it is.

Ice goes back for his chemo treatment. Phil, his technician, doesn’t say much as he putters around the room, hanging IV drip bags here and flipping switches on medical equipment there. When Ice is all hooked up, they chat about inane things. Phil recounts his daughter’s swim meet. Ice responds with tales of his own swim meets, back at the Naval Academy. Phil says his son signed up for flag football, but God bless him, he’s shit at the sport. Ice promises that he’s not going to get much better at it, if he sucks this much at it now; he’s got his own scars from high school to prove it.

Phil unhooks him from the infernal treatment and books him for an appointment in two weeks. Maverick puts down People Magazine—a different issue than he was reading before, Ice notes—and drives them both home. He helps Ice into the living room and lays him down on the couch with the quilt that Carole made for their sort-of-fifteenth-anniversary. He kisses Ice on the forehead and goes to the kitchen to start dinner, and Ice is out like a light.

When he wakes up again, the sky is a dusky gray. It’s just past sundown. Maverick let him sleep for hours.

“Mav?” he calls out. Ice pushes himself up off the couch, his elbows creaking as he goes. “Maverick?”

“In here!” Maverick replies from the guest bathroom. “I’ll be just a second!”

Ice hums and goes into the kitchen. There’s a pot on the counter, but it’s not one of theirs. He lifts the lid; savory chicken congee, with ginger root and scallions. The Reyes’ must have dropped something off while he was asleep.

“Oh, yeah, Martin came by with some soup,” Maverick says behind him. “He says there’s no better cure than his wife’s arroz caldo, not even your mama’s chicken noodle soup.”

Ice puts the lid back on the pot. He turns to Maverick, ready to bear all of his weight down on his partner, because chemo is a bitch and he feels exhausted just standing here in his own kitchen—

—And flinches.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” Ice cries. Maverick cracks a grin, his signature Colgate smile.

“Do ya like it?” he asks.

Like it? Ice reaches out for his head, and Maverick leans in. He runs his hand over Maverick’s scalp, feeling the smoothness of his skin. He passes over the whole landscape once, twice, his fingers tripping over the tips of Maverick’s ears and the nape of his neck, as if he’d find something there like a magician performing a sleight of hand, but there’s nothing there.

“It’s all gone,” Ice laughs, somewhat hysterical. “It’s gone, it’s gone! What did you do? What the fuck did you do!”

Maverick shaved all of his thick, dark hair off. All of it is gone. All of Maverick’s damnable, doesn’t-have-the-decency-to-go-even-a-little-salt-and-pepper hair has disappeared.

Maverick smiles, teary himself. “Yeah, babe, it’s all gone.” He takes Ice’s hands in his and holds them tight. Ice tries to fight his own tears, but they’re doing what they please.

“Mitchell, what the hell?”

Maverick laughs. “C’mon, Kazansky, give me some credit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you worrying about your hair falling out.” He cups Ice’s chin with one hand, looking straight into his eyes. “I thought you’d be less scared of it if we did it together.”

“Maverick,” Ice starts.

He doesn’t know where to go. It’s a grand gesture, that’s for sure, and if fifteen-odd years of knowing Maverick have taught him anything, it’s that you cannot always listen to what Maverick Mitchell says, you must only listen to what he does.

“Maverick,” he says again.

“Ice,” Maverick replies. “Let’s eat. And when we’re done, we’ll call Slider up and tell him what I did, and you can make as much fun of me as you want—for tonight only!—and we can talk about what you want to do next.”

They end up eating dinner in the bathroom. Maverick takes bites of his congee in between bouts of shaving off Ice’s hair as Ice huddles in the tub, ducking his head keep anything from falling into his own bowl. When they’re finished, they cram next to each other in Ice’s office and call Slider on Skype. His laughter is piercing through the laptop speakers and echoes down the hall.

And when Slider arrives ten days later, to, “Make sure Mitchell isn’t leaving you to fend all for yourself, I mean does he even know how to make a proper chicken noodle soup,” he knocks on Ice and Maverick’s front door sporting a grin and a freshly-shaved head.

Fighter pilots might have egos, but they’re a fiercely loyal bunch, too.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

One Little Mistake

Week #10 Prompt: "I'm a great driver!" | Word Count: 791 | Rating: T | POV: Dustin | Characters: Dustin, Steve, Mike, Lucas | CW: Language | Tags: Steve & Dustin, Steve Teaches Dustin To Drive, And Mike, And Lucas, God Help Him

"No, no, no, stop, stop, stop!" Steve screams from the passenger seat, and Dustin slams on the brakes, sure he's about to run over a litter of puppies or plow into a field trip from the local preschool or old folks' home.

"What? Where?" Dustin asks, looking all around, as Steve clings to the dashboard of his BMW.

"A stop sign, right there!" he points, and well, Dustin for sure didn't see that. There was a bush in the way. Well, a bush near it. Behind it. 

Semantics.

It doesn't matter. There was nobody coming, so it's not like they were gonna die. They've been in way worse situations than this together. Steve's just being a little overdramatic. 

"Well, shit," Dustin says, "that'd cost me points if this was my actual test."

"It'll cost your life if you crash my car, Henderson, pay attention!" Steve scolds, and it just rolls right off Dustin's back. Nothing Steve says sticks very long. In one ear, and out the other.

"You're never gonna pass driver's ed, we may as well just get your bike serviced and call it a day," Mike says from the back, and Dustin whips around in his seat. 

Steve can pick on him. Mike can't.

"Shut up! You didn't do any better!"

"He did a little better," Lucas mumbles, and Dustin sees Steve smile out of the corner of his eyes.

"Steve! You're my friend. You're gonna take their side? I'm a great driver!"

"You are not a great driver. Only Max is worse," Steve says. 

Dustin lets out an annoyed huff of breath. "For one, false. For two, Max wasn't even old enough to drive back then. She could barely even reach the pedals. So, that's decidedly unfair and unjust, dickhead."

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Just. Get out. Lesson over for today. I've met my threshold," Steve snaps, holding his hand over the top of his head, and then gets out of the car. 

Dustin could drive off, leaving him, but figures Steve will just be pissier than ever if he does. 

Dude can't take a joke anymore. They've had one apocalypse too many. 

"Ten more minutes!" Dustin wheedles. 

"No, no, no. No more. Not today," Steve says, holding open the driver's door, waiting for Dustin to get out. 

Only after Dustin's gotten out, does he realize that he didn't put it in park, only neutral, which means the car tries to roll away into the intersection, forcing Steve to hurry up and hop in, slamming on the brakes. Mike and Lucas both screaming in the backseat, like they haven't faced literal monsters.

Steve gives him a withering stare as Dustin slumps into the passenger's seat, ready and willing to pout. It was one little mistake.

Maybe two.

Ten, at most.

They drop off Lucas and Mike, which is at least convenient, since they live next door to one another. 

And then it's just him and Steve driving him home in silence, before parking in the driveway. 

"Hey," Steve says, looking over at him, "you can do this. You're just overthinking it."

Dustin knows that's probably true. 

"Can we try again? Just you and me?"

"Sure, man," Steve says, and gets out to trade places. Dustin hadn't actually meant right now, assuming Steve was seriously done for the day, but Steve starts his spiel all over again.

And Dustin listens. Goes through the motions, the checklist, and then they ease back out onto the street. Dustin wants to learn how to drive, he just thought it'd be easier than it is. He's smart. He should be able to do this, easy.

But it's not easy. And that really pisses him off.

Steve is calmer this time around, just being the two of them is helpful for that, at least. Dustin knows Mike pushes Steve's buttons, even on the best of days. 

And today was not the best of days. 

But he eases up to the stop sign, rolling to a smooth stop this time. He doesn't mash the brakes, and they don't jerk in their seats. It's an improvement.

"That's it!" Steve says, reaching over to give him a high five. Then immediately shouts, "Both hands on the wheel!"

It makes them both laugh, erasing the tension from earlier.

Sure, he still makes mistakes, but they aren't as severe, or as stressful, one-on-one. 

This is how they should have done it from the start. Just them.

When they get back to the house, Steve adamant that he wasn't ready for after dark lessons, Dustin gets out and meets Steve around the front of the car.

He's getting older, maybe too old for this, but he quickly reaches up on his toes, hugging Steve tight, whispering, "Thanks, Steve."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that. (Plain text version)

I kept getting "needs pt" tags on the original post, so here's the plain text version:

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don���t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism. By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism. You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry. After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces. This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of the original post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism. Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED. In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them. But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || CHAPTER ONE -> PREVIEW ||

parings -> riki nishimura x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> n/a word count -> 1.1k

abstract -> he's perfect how he is... but can maybe change for her.

y/n’s perspective

“Niki, we always do this” I whined as he locked himself in the bathroom. I needed to get him ready for tonight’s party. If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t… but with my family pushing me into choosing a major in business, they're making me befriend other kids from wealthy families. 

“Please… I don’t want to go alone” I begged but he didn’t respond. It was running late and the driver would be here soon… so I might have to go alone today. 

I gave up trying to convince him and did the final touches. Grabbing a jacket, fixing my makeup, and grabbing everything I needed. 

When I left my room, I couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re gonna go with me?” I asked and he nodded. “I can’t let you go on your own” he muttered and I chuckled. “Besides, look at how forgetful you are,” he said as he pulled my hair roller off my bangs.

“Oh,” I said genuinely forgetting as he laughed at me. 

“Do you–” “Yes, I have my tail ring on. I’m ready, now let's go before your dad starts calling”

Riki Nishimura was a stray hybrid I met when I was a kid. We were on a vacation trip to Japan when I saw him. I offered him some food I had on me and he took it from me to eat it like he was starved. 

My parents were already wanting to get me a hybrid so I begged them to keep him. In which they reluctantly agreed. However, when we found out he wasn’t a normal black cat hybrid they agreed. 

He was a panther hybrid, and so has been with me for years. We grew up together… However, my parents never liked how rowdy he was. Even now they tell me to get another hybrid, one that could join me in dinners, and parties, and one who is overall more well-behaved. 

I wasn’t gonna let them replace him. He was my best friend, my number one confidant. Besides… who needs a fancy and well-behaved hybrid? Niki was way more fun!

niki’s perspective

It was the same old party they threw with the same kids as their rich human parents and new collectibles. They liked to collect new hybrids where they’d show them off and then throw them away… but not y/n. 

Without her, I probably would still be on the street mistaken for an overgrown cat hybrid. It doesn’t mean I liked being gawked at and set a price on what they’d trade her for me. Of course, she’d never let them... I’ve seen how annoyed and angry she gets and it made me happy she cared so much. 

I cared for her too… She was clumsy and an idiot so she needed someone to take care of her. So I'm here… at a stupid party filled with spoiled rich kids. 

Not to say she isn't spoiled… she is. However, I never questioned that she loved me. She always makes that clear with everything she does for me. 

“Oh! You’re y/n right?” I heard and I saw a girl behind us with what smelled like a bird hybrid. “Mmhm… have we met before?” she asked why I didn’t think so… I would’ve recognized her and her hybrid. “My name–” I didn’t care what she had to say… I just didn’t like how her hybrid kept on staring at me with those eyes of his. What was his problem?

I was cut off from my thoughts when suddenly the topic of discussion became me… 

“He’s really pretty and exotic too! I just haven’t heard good things about him, you know?” she said and I had to refrain from growling at her. Who was she to talk right in front of my face about me? And to y/n?

“Jay here is well-behaved! He’s from America you know–” Is that supposed to make him impressive? Congrats bird you’re a pet! “–it's just a shame you know. I wanted a bunny or maybe a cat hybrid” she pouted and I could see his disappointed expression. 

“Oh, Niki is really sweet but he’s solitary–” “You should invest in a social hybrid you know?” she cut her off to say. Rude… why would she need another hybrid when she has me?

“I like the way he is, he’s been with me since we were kids so there's no way I could ever replace him like that,” she said and I felt proud. 

“I heard about how much you care for him. I guess rumors were true” she said and I knew she was amongst those who talked about why she couldn’t get a nicer and social hybrid who smiles and dotes on her. I do dote on her… and I’m only nice to her. Everyone else was pushing it. 

“What is he if I can ask?” she said and y/n only sighed while looking up at me. “He’s a puma hybrid from Japan,” she answered. “Woah! I heard puma hybrids were rare! I thought he was just a cat… makes sense then for how tall he is.” she said as she got closer to me. 

“Oh please don’t do that. You’ll make him uncomfortable.” y/n said as I went behind her. 

“You should take him to the training you know. It's for the hybrids who need manners… they are opening classes in your university for hybrids'' she said… she stalked y/n to know what university she was in? She needs a life. 

“Oh… I know of them. I think he is just fine the way he is” y/n said and she bowed. “If you’ll excuse us,” she said and we walked away from the pair. “She was a bitch” y/n muttered and I laughed. “Calm down, you have an act to uphold,” I said and she sighed. “y/n?” I said and she looked at me with her eyes filled with determination to answer to give me anything I asked for. “Why didn’t you tell me your uni is having hybrid classes?” I asked and she sighed. 

“They're mainly about etiquette. She said how to take care of your owner… how to behave in a social setting, etc” and I nodded. 

“I want to go,” I said and her eyes widened. “But you're perfect–” “No, I’m not… I caused you a lot of trouble. I heard your dad get mad again this morning. He didn’t want me here because of last time” I said and she shook her head. 

“Yah! Don’t do that!” she scolded and I smiled softly. 

“Please? You said you would give me anything I asked for. I want to be a better hybrid for you”

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[gosiksmallspace]

The Merciless Timeline

@inashoe and I have been talking lately and it got me thinking about The Merciless timeline.

First, we have to remember that the movie has flashbacks to pre-prison (probably 2013-2014) and the main timeline past the prison, which happens in 2016-2017 (I'm leaning more towards 2017).

I assume Hyunsoo was born in 1990. He is a rookie cop, even if he spent some time working for Golden Cranes. I would say he was around 23-24 before being sent to prison. He would be around 27 when he's out.

Jaeho could have been born around 1970, because between Hyunsoo and him is 20 years, more or less. I'm basing it on what he said to Hyunsoo:

"Even the boss I dedicated 20 years to is trying to backstab me with a smile on his face." "I got started here at your age. Do you know how many have betrayed me in those years?"

His parents died when he was 12 (so around 1982?) and he ended up in an orphanage. When he was a teenager, he began selling drugs. According to the priest in prison:

"Han started by dealing meth in his teens".

Then around 1997, he began working for Ko Byungchul. Once again:

"Even the boss I dedicated 20 years to is trying to backstab me with a smile on his face."

That would make him 27 then, so kind of old, but it also makes sense that first Jaeho would have to go to the military and then work with Byunggap on smaller illegal things to prove himself). He moved to Busan with Ko in 2008, at age 38. He could be around 43 when he was sent to prison and then 47 when he was released.

Now, in a police meeting, before Chun send Hyunsoo to prison, it is said that Ko Byungchul aka Chairman Ko is 52, so he was born in 1962, making him 8 years older than Jaeho. He used to provide strippers for a Russian bar in Seoul before he partnered up with Vladivostok's Gegard mob. In 2008 he relocated to Busan and founded Oceane/Oceans Trading, an aquatic importer.

Ko Byunggap is likely to be Jaeho's age (or really, really close) because he calls Jaeho '친구' (chingu). He's also Chairman Ko's nephew, which is interesting because according to my math, Ko Byungchul was 8 when Ko Byunggap was born. Byunggap mentions that it was his uncle who gave him up for an orphanage, which means that Byungchul had to be an adult then. So my lose theory is that Byunggap could be around 15 then when his parents died (that would make Byungchul 23). Byungchul could have given Byunggap up so he wouldn't get in his way.

That means that Byunggap's father was Byungchul's older brother and Ko brothers could have 10-year age difference because Byunggap's dad should have been at least 18 when he had him (I know he could be younger but let's go with the legal age).

What's interesting, although Byungchul calls Byunggap nephew, they both have 'Byung' in their names and that makes me wonder because in Korea children from the same generation and the same family can have a syllable in common. Maybe they are cousins? Because I don't remember Byunggap naming Byunggap's father as his brother. But this is just a small speculation because I don't know if '조카' literally means 'brother's son' or simply 'blood relative'. I will stick to Bynggap's dad being Byungchul's older brother.

The only person whose age we actually know for sure is Hyunsoo's mom, Jung Kyunghee. Because unfortunately it was inscribed on the tree dedicated to her after she died. She was born on 18th August 1962 (so same as Byungchul according to my math). If she gave birth to Hyunsoo in 1990 that means she was 28 then. And she died on 7th May 2014 at the age of 52.

So, summarising my estimated timeline: 1962 - Ko Byungchil and Jung Kyunghee are born. 1970 - Han Jaeho and Ko Byunggap are born. 1982 - Jaeho's parents die. 1982-1987 - Byunggap gets to orphanage. 1990 - Hyunsoo is born. 1997 - Jaeho and Byunggap began working for Ko Byungchul. 2008 - Ko Byungchul moves his business to Busan and takes Byunggap and Jaeho with him. 2013 - Jaeho is sent to prison, Hyunsoo works for the Golden Cranes gang. 2013-2014 - Hyunsoo is sent to prison. 2014 - Hyunsoo's mom is killed. 2017 - Jaeho and Hyunsoo are released and the movie begins.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

If you have different informations or other theories I would love to listen!

[shadowtriovibes]

tell me anything (but don't you say he's what you're missing)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, miscommunication, pre-relationship garreth/poppy, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, fingering, toxic bf behavior

Summary: request: “can you imagine the chaos of Sebastian and MC agreeing to go on a double date, with their own dates, to make the other jealous?? Bonus chaos if MC brings Garreth!!”

“Sebastian, what has gotten into you tonight?” you ask him.

“Me?” Sebastian asks, and then he has the audacity to laugh. “What about you?”

“What about me?!” you demand. “I’ve been nothing but polite all evening, which is more than I can say for you!”

“Oh, polite,” he drawls. “Sure. ‘You look lovely this evening, Poppy! You’re so talented with beasts, bloody brilliant, you are!’”

You’re on your way to Transfiguration when Garreth sidles up beside you on his mission.

You’ll blame Sebastian for how distracted you are at the moment. He’d begged off studying with you last night to do Merlin knows what — probably working his way through another one of those archaic magic books he’d managed to charm Scriber into letting him borrow, you think.

It had been a few days since you’d even seen him. Between tending to your N.E.W.T.-level plants in the greenhouses and Sebastian’s Quidditch practices, there had simply been no time.

If you were to be honest, it almost felt like you were being ignored.

So, when Garreth manages to pull you aside and offer you a compliment on your latest batch of Veritaserum that you’d presented for Sharp earlier that morning, it feels nice.

“Thank you, Garreth,” you murmur shyly. “That means a lot. Lately it feels like Sharp is so difficult to impress.”

“You’re a right sight better at it than me,” he laughs. “Speaking of which, I was actually thinking about offering you a sort of… trade.”

“Oh?” you ask, surprised. “What’s that?”

“Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind tutoring me in Potions before Sharp’s exam next week?” he asks hopefully. “I was thinking we could meet up for some extra practice in the evenings, and afterward I could take you to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate.”

You raise your eyebrows and clutch your books a bit closer to your chest. Is Garreth Weasley asking you to Hogsmeade on a date?

At first you think that can’t possibly be what he means. You’re with Sebastian after all, aren’t you?

( …Aren’t you?)

While you pause to consider Garreth’s offer, you remember that you’ve never heard Sebastian call you his girlfriend, nor have you ever discussed whether the two of you could date other people. Sure, you spend a lot of evenings together, and he’s traced his hands — and lips — across more of your body than anyone else. But is he your boyfriend?

You aren’t sure.

And Garreth is sweet. He’s always got a kind word to say to you whenever your potion goes awry or you struggle to learn a new charm. On top of that he’s plenty handsome, and he’s friendly in a way that makes Sebastian seem not unlike a feral cat whenever he curls up alone with one of his books instead of joining you by the fire in the common room.

“If it helps, I went to Sallow first,” Garreth explains. “I figured I should, given how close the two of you are, and he said it was perfectly fine for me to ask.”

Oh, he did, did he?

“Er… alright, yes,” you breathe. “That sounds lovely, Garreth.”

He beams brilliantly and your heart races a bit, but whether it’s from excitement or guilt, you aren’t quite sure.

Word quickly spreads around the castle that Garreth managed to snag a date with you, so you know it won’t be long until you have to answer to a certain Slytherin about the matter. In fact, when Sebastian sits down next to you the following afternoon at lunchtime, you’re quite sure that he already knows.

“Weasley? Really?” are the first words out of his mouth.

“Good afternoon to you too, Sebastian,” you sigh as you turn a page of your Charms textbook.

“What exactly are you playing at?” he asks you carefully. “Have I done something?”

“Believe it or not, not everything I do is about you,” you tell him cheekily. “I’m just helping Garreth with some of his potions techniques, that’s all.”

“‘That’s all?’” he repeats skeptically. “What about your little date, hmm? I had to hear about it from Amit, for Merlin’s sake.”

You shrug silently, and Sebastian’s jaw tenses.

“I wasn’t aware you were dating,” he grits out. “I suppose any expectation of exclusively on your end was foolish of me.”

You avert your gaze guiltily and eventually mumble, “It’s just Butterbeers, Bas. It’s not serious. Garreth is a good friend, don’t get your wand in a knot.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I bring a date of my own on Saturday?” he asks offhandedly.

You freeze, your eyes going wide. “What? Who?!”

“Poppy Sweeting,” he says innocently. “She’s a nice girl. Smart as a whip, too. Thought I’d take her for a Butterbeer or two and get to know her a little better. As it stands, I already asked her just this morning.”

You narrow your eyes at him while he meets your gaze expectantly.

“…Fine,” you eventually force out. “Honestly, I don’t even care.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” you counter, “why don’t we just make it a double date? Garreth and I, and you and Poppy.”

As far as bad ideas go, this one of yours is especially atrocious. However, once you’ve issued a challenge like that, Sebastian will feel that no choice but to meet it.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “You’re on. Saturday at seven, then?”

“We’ll see you then,” you answer, slamming your book closed and storming off, leaving your lunch unfinished.

———

When Saturday arrives, you agree to meet Garreth outside his common room.

Of course, this is mostly so you can avoid having to see Sebastian before he makes his way down to the kitchens to meet up with Poppy. However, Garreth, who is naïve to your antics with Sebastian, finds the whole thing quite charming.

“Don’t you look lovely,” he says when he steps out from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Thank you,” you demur. “I take it your Potions exam went well?”

“Passed with flying colors,” he says proudly. “All thanks to your excellent tutelage. Genuinely, I never could have done it without you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you protest, blushing. “You’ve got a knack for potions, I’ve seen it myself.”

“I’ve a knack for ruining potions,” he corrects with a laugh. “You’re the one with the talent required to achieve an Outstanding.”

The two of you make easy conversation as you walk the winding path down to Hogsmeade. You’re unpleasantly reminded of the very first time you took this path with Sebastian several years ago, and you try to force yourself to stay in the moment with your dear friend and not think about what Sebastian is doing.

(You absolutely do not want to imagine that he’s happily holding hands with Poppy further along down the path, or that he’s perhaps pulled her aside behind one of the many trees for a quick snog as he’s done with you countless times.)

Shortly after you arrive at the Three Broomsticks, Sirona seats you at a table that seats four and brings around your first round of Butterbeers. When Sebastian joins you a few moments later, he escorts Poppy right up to the table and gentlemanly pulls her chair out for her.

You quietly seethe while Sebastian winks at you over Poppy’s head and takes his seat next to her.

“It’s so good to see you!” Poppy says brightly, eagerly taking your hand. “I’m so glad we finally got to do this.”

“M-me too,” you stammer, forcing a smile. “You look lovely, Poppy.”

She beams happily and smooths her hands across her skirt. “Thank you! I suppose it’s rather nice to have an occasion to clean up for. I was in a right state earlier, as Professor Howin had me in the Diricawl pens all afternoon.”

“You’re always offering to help with those beasts,” you observe fondly. “They must adore you so.”

“I do my best,” she answers, going slightly pink.

“Garreth,” Sebastian offers cordially. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Sebastian,” Garreth replies. “Likewise. I’ve hardly seen you outside the library in ages!”

Sebastian smiles ruefully and says, “Well, now that you mention it, I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’ve been busy preparing my application for the Auror recruitment program.”

You nearly choke on your Butterbeer, and Poppy kindly offers you her napkin.

“Auror recruitment?” Garreth asks, followed by a low whistle. “Impressive.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” you ask Sebastian directly.

“It was going to be a surprise,” he tells you simply, but you suspect the truth has more to do with his reticence to share the news until he’s been accepted.

“And?” you ask him expectantly.

He merely shrugs. “No word yet. I just sent it off this morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be accepted, Sebastian,” Poppy says encouragingly. “You seem like an excellent candidate.”

He shrugs again and thanks her for the kind words. You attempt to hide your sullen expression behind your Butterbeer mug.

You manage to make it through the first round and the next without any real mishaps. Unfortunately, when your third mug arrives, Garreth casually drapes his arm across the back of your chair, and Sebastian gets that look on his face that you recognize as one that imminently precludes some sort of nonsense.

“Garreth,” he says slowly. “I meant to ask earlier, how did your tutoring go?”

“Quite well,” he answers happily. “I got decent marks for once, thanks to this one.”

Sebastian hums thoughtfully while you grin back at Garreth. Then he casually says, “You wouldn’t have happened to be practicing with Amortentia, perhaps? Because it certainly looks like the two of you have gotten quite close rather quickly.”

Your jaw drops, and Garreth goes red.

“N-no, just some regular antidotes,” he quickly stammers. “I wouldn’t — that’s not, um.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” Sebastian says easily. “Must just be your natural charm then.”

You cannot believe him.

“Sebastian, may I please speak to you for a moment?” you hiss. “Privately?”

He offers nothing in response. Rather, he simply stands up from his chair and wordlessly gestures toward the stairs behind the bar.

“I’m so sorry, we’ll just be a moment,” you mumble to Garreth as you quickly turn and make your way toward the stairs, trusting Sebastian to follow.

As soon as you round the corner, the noise from the pub downstairs drops significantly. You imagine it’s probably some kind of charm to offer Sirona’s upstairs guests a moment of respite — in fact, it’s the first time all evening that you’ve been able to hear yourself think.

Mercifully, it’s entirely empty at the moment, which means you can round on Sebastian as forcefully as you please.

“Sebastian, what has gotten into you tonight?” you ask him.

“Me?” Sebastian asks, and then he has the audacity to laugh. “What about you?”

“What about me?!” you demand. “I’ve been nothing but polite all evening, which is more than I can say for you!”

“Oh, polite,” he drawls. “Sure. ‘You look lovely this evening, Poppy! You’re so talented with beasts, bloody brilliant, you are!’”

“What’s wrong with that?” you counter. “Poppy is my friend, and she is brilliant.”

“You’re not — Merlin, it’s just…” Sebastian starts before signing frustratedly and trailing off mid-thought.

“Go on,” you insist. “Say it.”

He drags a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before practically shouting, “All the compliments, the praise, it’s like you actually want me to date her!”

You freeze as you anxiously grip the wooden railing at your side to steady yourself.

“…You could,” you say quietly, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as an excuse to turn away from him. “Poppy is lovely.”

The frustrated groan he lets out makes your knees go a little weak.

“She’s not you,” he finally admits. “I can’t… I don’t want her.”

“Then tell me,” you plead. “Who do you want?”

“You know who I want,” he says in a low voice. “You’ve known, love. I thought it was quite clear what we are.”

“Clear?” you scoff. “You’ve got to be joking. I’ve never known where we stand, Sebastian. You’re practically incorrigible one day and then the next you barely look at me. You tell me you ache for me and then you’ll tell Garreth that he should ask to court me. What was I supposed to think?”

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers. “I told Garreth what?!”

“He told me that you said he could ask me to Hogsmeade,” you repeat. “He said he talked to you before he even approached me.”

Sebastian looks seething mad. “That foul git, I would never have said that.”

“Garreth isn’t a liar,” you stubbornly insist. “Nor did he spike me with Amortentia, by the way.”

“I barely talk to him, when would I have—” Sebastian starts, and then he stops in his tracks again. “Hang on.”

“Here we go,” you mumble under your breath.

“Last week he asked me if it would be alright to approach you about some tutoring,” he says slowly. “Not a date, mind you.”

“Was it tutoring, or ‘tutoring ?’” you ask patiently, leaning hard into the inflection.

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow. “There’s a difference?”

Merlin’s beard, he truly is unbearably thick.

“You arse,” you grit out. “Of course there’s a difference! He meant the latter.”

“I only said that I figured you’d offer to help him study because you’re a good friend!” he counters, indignant. “If I’d known that this was his intention, I never would have encouraged it!”

“…Really?” you ask hesitantly, suddenly shyer than before as you shift anxiously in the quiet rafters of the pub. “Because I… I thought you’d told him to ask me out because you’d grown tired of me.”

For as dense as Sebastian can occasionally be, he has a knack for recognizing when you’re feeling unmoored, and he’s always quick to ground you in his arms.

“Darling,” he sighs, reaching for you with careful hands until it’s apparent that you’ll let him pull you in against his chest without a fight.

“I will never grow tired of you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I know I’m probably a dreadful boyfriend, but if you’ll give me another chance I’ll make it up to you, however you want.”

“‘Boyfriend,’ hmm?” you ask softly. “Is that what you are?”

“…Merlin, I really am rubbish at this, aren’t I?” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Sebastian,” you say quietly. “You know I’m mad about you, but we have to do this right this time. If you’re my boyfriend, then be my boyfriend.”

“I swear to it,” he says as he gently sways you side to side, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I’m all yours, love.”

You allow yourself to be held for long enough that you start to feel guilty for having abandoned your dates. Just as you’re about to suggest that the two of you go back downstairs and make some excuses, you feel his hands start to drift lower — down your sides to your hips, and then teasing at the hem of your skirt.

“Bas,” you hiss. “No.”

“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. “No one is up here, we’re all alone. Let me touch you, just for a bit?”

You whimper quietly as he backs you up against the railing. Down below you can hear the noise from the crowded pub, and you honestly can’t be sure if anyone can see you up here in the darkened rafters.

“There you are,” Sebastian mumbles as he nudges your legs apart with one of his thighs. “Good girl.”

“You’re obscene,” you gasp, whining softly when he presses two long fingers against your entrance through your thin undergarments. “…Don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs.

Sebastian noses along your jawline until you tip your head back for him, your eyes fluttering shut as he carefully works a bruise into your skin right above the collar. You know damn well that Garreth and Poppy will spot it as soon as you return downstairs, but you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

As he marks you up, he slips his fingers inside your panties and easily presses them into you. You let your legs fall open wider so he can work his thumb against your clit the way he knows you like.

“Sebastian,” you sigh.

“Do you think Weasley would do this for you?” he growls against your jaw. “You think he would bring you up here away from everyone else and touch you like this?”

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No, he wouldn’t,” he continues. “He’s too polite, like sweet little Poppy.”

“Be nice,” you whine.

“Maybe the two of them should give it a go,” he sneers. “Leave all the real fun to us, hmm?”

You rest your head on his shoulder while he works you over, curling his fingers to press against that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your eyes roll back.

“After I make you come, I want you to go back downstairs with me and set things straight,” he murmurs. “They’ll know exactly what you let me do and all this will be over, just like that.”

“What about you?” you whimper. “Can I touch you first?”

“I’ll wait,” he tells you softly. “Until after, in the Undercroft. You’ll take care of me then, won’t you, love?”

Merlin, you wish he’d let you get him off now. You can feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against your hip and you wish he’d just pull it out and fill you up right here, even though Sirona would undoubtedly ban you for life.

“Bas,” you whine. “Please.”

“As much as I love how eager you are, darling,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a particularly firm thrust of his hand, “we’ll need somewhere much more private.”

When he finally brings you off, you’re already thinking about how you’ll get on your knees for him as soon as the gate to the Undercroft shuts behind you.

He’s grinning when you eventually open your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss.

He merely smirks and gently pulls his hand out from between your thighs, letting your messy, ruined undergarments settle back into place. You wince knowing you’ll have no choice but to wear them to go downstairs and even back to the castle.

“We ought to be off,” he says lazily. “We’ve kept our poor dates waiting long enough, I think.”

You shift your skirt slightly as you sneak back downstairs behind Sebastian. However, before either of you can rejoin the table, Sebastian pauses just around the corner and gently holds up a hand.

“Look,” he murmurs.

Across the room, you see Poppy giggling happily while Garreth demonstrates a trick with one of the pub’s napkins. He taps his wand against it and it folds itself into a plush-looking Niffler, and then a friendly Kneazle. Lastly, he wads it up himself and offers it to her with a cheeky grin, and you know from having seen him carry out the same trick during one of your tutoring sessions that he’s just told her it’s a Puffskein.

She laughs brightly and blushes, easily accepting it from him.

“Well, well,” you murmur. “Poppy and Garreth… who would’ve thought?”

Sebastian just turns around and smiles smugly at you.

“Don’t start,” you warn him. “You didn’t.”

“I absolutely did,” he beams. “Come on, love. Did you really think I had a thing for Poppy? I love you, and she’s been here for Garreth this whole time.”

Your mouth hangs open uselessly while you try to put together a witty retort, but you’re utterly at a loss for words.

“B-but it was my idea to make it a double date!” you eventually stammer.

“Was it, though?” he asks knowingly, and you simply groan in frustration.

Sebastian laughs delightedly while you follow him out the front doors of the pub, the only intelligible words coming out of your mouth being “wanker” and “unbelievable.”

But when he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to walk you back to the castle, you figure you won’t really be angry with him for long — not when he’s finally demonstrated that he actually does have a sweet side.

[damnesdelamer]

What flavour of communist and/or gay are you? /Gen

I'm not really sure what this means.

Not to spout clichés or take myself too seriously, but to some extent I think labels confine us within rigid structures which ultimately only serve our enemies. I know it's just a shortcut, but even the fact that you say 'flavour' kinda reiterates the idea that lots of the associated terminology positions us as existing for consumption.

Of course I know language matters. Indeed, I think a disproportionately large amount of leftist in-fighting is down to word choice and communication. More often than not, when anarchists refer to the state and Leninists refer to capital or bourgeois democracy, we're all talking about the same systems of harm and oppression. I also believe that what's most important is what we do, not how we identify.

I actively avoid the 'discourse' surrounding queer terminology. For years in my youth I railed against the word 'bisexual' because I didn't like that it implied I have two distinct sexualities, and for awhile I even called myself 'ambisexual' in an attempt to prompt a deconstruction thereof. But then I decided that I like the colours of the bi flag, which is really all that matters, because it's just aesthetics.

So I guess let me put it this way: I'm a trade union organiser who specifically represents queer union members. I grew up reading Marx, and some of the greatest influences through my adolescence on how I approach the world were Gramsci and Mao, and later Fanon and Butler. I spent a lot of my twenties questioning whether I count as trans, as I have always been very comfortable with both my masculinity and my femininity, but at some point I realised very clearly that the gender I was assigned at birth is not reflected in either.

I very strongly believe in the value of Lenin and Leninism to global struggle; but likewise I have taken a lot from Malatesta, Luxemburg, Adorno, and so on. I also think, while they are to be scrutinised rigorously, there is much to be gained from the likes of Trotsky, Foucault, or ‎Žižek. I am a staunch anti-Zionist, but Memmi nevertheless teaches us a great deal about the plight of the colonised.

I am probably closer to an orthodox Marxist than I am to a Leninist or anarchist, but ultimately I think all this orthodoxy reeks of bourgeois affectation. The questions we should be asking are: who is most impacted by the realities of a given situation, and what are they saying, what do they need? Once upon a time in the west, and certainly still in most cases, this is BIPOC and sexual others, so we read Davis and Feinberg and Öcalan and Ahmed and Tuck and Yang. It is the strength of the revolutionary to adapt to the material conditions at hand, and remain undaunted.

In the end, we have more in common with one another than we have with ruling classes, right? So let us gather together! If this is the final struggle, let each stand in our place.