#witness my plight boy

[goodgoblinguy]

Learning homestuck against my will

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Odyssey would have been a lot shorter if Odysseus gave the Cyclops weed instead of wine.

[dfortrafalgar]

Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t?  You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew.  You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god.  You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old.  You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship.  You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors.  But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight.  Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats.  And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are.  You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time.  Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced.  Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being.  Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from.  Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving.  They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away.  Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt.  You loved your crew, you really did.  You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you.  Like you were unprepared.  Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit.  And you cried.  You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?”  It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you.  He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear.  He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him.  Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen.  It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin.  “Did someone say something to you?  Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm.  You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax.  “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people.  It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain.  His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly.  “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face.  Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.”  Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders.  “Being a part of a crew.  You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately.  “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’  That’s impossible.  We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly.  “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was.  You feebly nodded.  “Yeah.  That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible.  He was basically flush against you at this point.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek.  “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described.  His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words.  Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp.  ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent.  If anything, he tried to pull you in closer.  The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder.  But he still didn’t let up.  He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?”  He sounded completely oblivious.  “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore.  No more crying,” he demanded.  “Captain’s orders.”  His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips.  After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace.  You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected.  Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.  His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts.  Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back.  “Not yet,” he grumbled.  “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily.  Everyone’s different.  Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them.  Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.”  A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart.  “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.  The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved.  It was miraculous.  All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

[phantobats]

I NEED to see your version of a reverse robin au!!!!

To be honest, I have been thinking of starting my own Reverse Robins AU, so here are my ideas for that under the cut !

In this universe, as Dick Grayson is not the first Robin, all of the Robins are instead called Squires, to fit with the Dark Knight theme Bruce has going on.

Bruce Wayne's Journey to Becoming the Dark Knight

At the age of 19, Bruce Wayne, driven by a thirst for justice and a desire to master the skills needed to combat crime, joins the League of Assassins. His exceptional talents quickly propel him through the ranks, catching the attention of Ra's al Ghul, the enigmatic leader of the League. Impressed by Bruce’s prowess and potential, Ra’s offers him a place at his side as his heir, along with the hand of his daughter, Talia al Ghul.

Clouded by ambition and the promise of power, Bruce accepts, and by the time he is 20, he becomes a father to Damian. Bruce and Talia, though deeply involved in the League, raise Damian together. However, unbeknownst to Bruce, Damian is secretly subjected to the League’s brutal training methods.

Years pass, and it is only when Bruce accidentally witnesses a young Damian brutally decapitating an enemy that the full horror of what his son has become strikes him. Horrified, Bruce realizes that the League is no place for his son or himself. In a desperate bid to save Damian from a life of violence and darkness, Bruce fights his way out of the League, taking Damian with him back to Gotham.

Returning to Gotham, Bruce reflects on his actions and the person he has become under the League's influence. Burdened with guilt and a desire for redemption, he decides to channel his skills into becoming the Dark Knight, the Batman, a symbol of justice and atonement for the city that has always been his true home.

Damian Wayne: The First Squire

Damian, torn from the only life he has ever known, is furious at being taken away from the League. He demands to become his father’s squire, determined to prove himself worthy and regain the sense of purpose he once had. Bruce, though wary of Damian's brutal tendencies, sees this as an opportunity to guide his son onto a brighter path, away from the shadow of the League’s influence.

As Damian grows, Bruce tirelessly works to temper his son’s lethal instincts, teaching him the value of mercy and justice over vengeance. However, as Damian approaches adulthood, he begins to struggle with the immense pressure of being the heir to the Batman mantle. Despite his father’s teachings, the weight of expectation becomes overwhelming, and Damian starts to revert to his old, violent ways, hoping that by doing so, he can distance himself from a destiny he feels ill-suited for.

Bruce, recognizing the signs of Damian’s internal conflict, decides to send him to join the Young Justice team, hoping that interacting with peers and learning from others like Black Canary will help Damian find balance. With Black Canary’s guidance, Damian finally opens up to Bruce, revealing his fears and his desire to forge his path. Understanding his son’s plight, Bruce supports him in seeking a new identity, one that reflects who Damian truly is rather than what others expect him to be.

Damian takes on the identity of "Onyx", a precious stone, often associated with protection and absorbing negative energy

By adopting the name Onyx, Damian symbolizes his role as a protector who absorbs and neutralizes the darkness around him, taking something once associated with darkness and turning it into a symbol of strength and defense.

Tim Drake’s Journey: From Obsession to Tragedy

Tim Drake's story begins with an obsession. Fascinated by the mysterious figure of Batman and his squire, Damian Wayne, Tim starts following them around Gotham, trying to learn everything he can about the legendary duo. Damian quickly notices the young boy's persistence but says nothing to Bruce, curious to see how far Tim will go. Damian secretly admires Tim's courage and tenacity, even if he considers it somewhat reckless.

Tim’s persistence eventually pays off when, while attending a high-society gala, he observes Bruce Wayne and Damian closely enough to piece together their secret identities. Empowered by his discovery, Tim becomes even more determined, shadowing them more frequently. One night, during a solo patrol, Damian finds Tim in a dangerous situation. Realizing the gravity of what he has uncovered, Tim blurts out his knowledge of their identities, prompting Damian to drag him back to the Batcave to tend to his injuries.

Bruce, impressed by Tim's intelligence and resourcefulness, reluctantly allows him to assist with investigations. Tim eagerly takes on this role, preferring the intellectual challenge over direct combat. His analytical mind and sharp instincts prove invaluable to Batman and Damian, who continue their nightly crusade against Gotham’s criminal underworld.

However, when Damian decides to strike out on his own as an independent hero in Blüdhaven, Tim's life takes a dark turn. The Joker targets Tim’s parents, brutally murdering them. Devastated and fueled by a desire for vengeance, Tim becomes the second Squire, determined to use his skills to bring his parents' killer to justice.

Despite his best efforts, every investigation into the Joker’s whereabouts turns up empty. Frustration and anger begin to consume Tim, leading him to act more impulsively. When he stumbles upon what seems to be a solid lead on the Joker’s location, he recklessly pursues it on his own, determined to end the clown’s reign of terror. The lead, however, is a trap, and Tim is captured.

Over the following months, the Joker tortures Tim, breaking him both physically and mentally, and eventually warping him into Joker Jr., a twisted reflection of the hero he once aspired to be. When Batman finally confronts the Joker again, he is horrified to discover what has become of Tim. In the ensuing battle, the Joker kills Tim, leaving Batman to mourn another lost Squire. However, Tim's body is never recovered by Bruce.

Unbeknownst to Batman, the League of Assassins finds Tim's broken body and resurrects him using the Lazarus Pit. Ra’s al Ghul, seeing the potential for another brilliant detective in his ranks, manipulates Tim, warping his memories and convincing him that his quest for vengeance is far from over.

Enraged and manipulated into believing that he must destroy the man who failed him, Tim flees the League and returns to Gotham, swearing a bloody vendetta against all criminals, but most of all against Bruce Wayne, whom he blames for his suffering. He takes on the name of the "Wraith", reflecting Tim’s transformation into a shadow of his former self, driven by a need to haunt those he holds responsible for his pain.

Jason Todd’s Journey: From Desperation to Redemption

Jason Todd grew up on the harsh streets of Crime Alley, a place where hope is scarce and survival is a daily struggle. With his father having mysteriously disappeared and his mother dying of an overdose, Jason was left to fend for himself in one of Gotham's most dangerous neighborhoods. The recent rise of crime gangs, fueled by the chaos wrought by Wraith's birth, has turned Park Row into a literal warzone, with violence and despair at every corner.

Desperate for a way out and hoping to make some quick money, Jason decides to steal the tires off the Batmobile when he finds it unattended. However, Batman catches him in the act. In a moment of sheer desperation, Jason pleads with Batman to take him in. He explains his dire situation—his father’s absence, his mother’s death, and the unrelenting violence that has consumed his home. Jason argues that with his deep knowledge of the streets and the gangs that rule them, he could be of real help to the Dark Knight.

Batman, who has been struggling with his own demons since losing his previous squire, sees something in Jason that he can't ignore. Despite his hesitation about involving Jason in his dangerous crusade, Batman reluctantly agrees, allowing Jason to become the new Squire. However, Batman remains cautious, initially keeping Jason away from the frontline battles, focusing instead on training him and using his knowledge of Crime Alley to gather intelligence.

As time goes on, Jason proves to be an invaluable asset. His familiarity with the criminal underworld of Park Row gives Batman a strategic advantage, allowing them to dismantle several gangs and push back against the crime wave that has overtaken the area. Jason's raw talent, combined with Batman's training, quickly turns him into a formidable squire.

No longer the desperate kid from Crime Alley, Jason finds a new sense of purpose and belonging. Jason proves to be a valuable asset not just in the field but also in the world of high society.

He, though initially struggling with the elite environment of Wayne Enterprises, gradually earns respect through his hard work and ingenuity. His background as a former street kid gives him a unique perspective, allowing him to connect with people on a different level. Over time, he makes a name for himself in the business world, becoming a key figure in Bruce Wayne’s efforts to bolster the public image of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce is immensely proud of Jason’s progress, seeing him as a symbol of redemption and success.

Despite this, Bruce’s attention is increasingly divided due to the resurgence and unmasking of Tim Drake. This leaves Bruce more focused on the complexities surrounding Tim, limiting his ability to be a father figure to Jason. While Bruce continues to mentor Jason in his role as a squire, Jason yearns for a more personal connection and sees Bruce as more of a mentor than a father figure.

When Bruce adopts Dick Grayson, Jason steps into the role of an older brother, providing support and guidance. His bond with Dick helps solidify his place in the Wayne family and allows him to channel his own experiences into nurturing the younger boy.

Tragedy strikes when Bruce seemingly dies, disappearing into the time stream. The loss of Batman leaves a void in Gotham and creates uncertainty about who will take up the mantle. Damian and Jason, both deeply affected by Bruce’s disappearance, struggle with their own visions of the future. Jason, who believes that Bruce might still be alive, decides to embark on his own investigation, driven by hope and determination.

As he steps away from the role of the squire to forge his own path, Jason emerges with the identity of Phoenix that reflects his growth and evolution from a troubled past to a dynamic, independent hero.

Dick Grayson’s Journey: From Orphan to Squire

After witnessing the tragic deaths of his parents, young Dick Grayson is taken in by Bruce Wayne, who, along with Damian Wayne and Jason Todd, initially tries to shield him from the truth of their secret identities. Despite their efforts to conceal their true selves, Dick’s perceptiveness reveals their identities, as the injuries and circumstances are too evident to ignore.

Instead of immediately taking Dick on as a squire, Bruce and his team focus on helping him cope with his grief and trauma. They engage Dick in sparring matches and other activities to channel his emotions and provide a sense of normalcy and belonging. Dick, with his resilient spirit and natural charisma, becomes a bright presence in the manor, helping to lift the spirits of everyone around him during a dark period.

When Bruce mysteriously disappears, leaving Gotham in uncertainty, Jason, driven by a belief that Bruce might still be alive, sets out to investigate. Feeling the weight of responsibility on Damian’s shoulders, Dick cannot stand by and watch him bear the burden alone. Determined to help, Dick steps up and becomes the fourth squire, fighting alongside Damian and making the experience more bearable for both of them.

With Bruce’s return, the dynamic within the team shifts. Damian resumes his role as Onyx, and Dick has to adjust to the new arrangements. Although he misses Damian as a mentor, Dick adapts quickly to working with Bruce, continuing to prove himself as a valuable member of the team. His journey from a grieving orphan to a dedicated squire highlights his resilience and ability to thrive amidst change.

[fieldofheathers-stuff]

A few thoughts on Arcane S2’s treatment of the political conflict between Zaun and Piltover (I'm not mad, I'm just dissappointed)

The hasty and rather superficial resolution (if we can even call it that) to the class conflict between Zaun and Piltover has been, in my opinion, one of the weakest points of S2. I don’t mind so much the way it ended (Zaun gaining representation in the Council, instead of full independence, seems like a pretty realistic ending to me, given what was established in S1), but I can’t help wishing the show runners dedicated more time to exploring this plot thread, and got us to the ending in a more organic way.

As usual, my recent rewatch of S1 has mellowed my perspective on this issue a little bit. Going back to S1 with the hindsight of S2 , it was quite clear that, with the way S1 ended, Zaun was going to get the short end of the stick in S2. Besides, Arcane’s story is mainly character-driven, and out of the four characters that were really carrying the “Zaun” side of the political plot in S1 (Silco, Vander, Ekko and Sevika), we had already lost two main players, so S2’s political conflict was inevitably going to shift more in favor of Piltover’s side simply due to the fact that it had more powerful players on its side. Zaun’s plight for independence was inevitably going to get the back seat.

Nonetheless, I still have issues with how the show-runners decided to handle it. While I understand why Ekko’s story was shifted towards a more individualistic journey (my boy is young, let him have some fun before he gets swamped by Piltover’s dirty politics), I still can’t help felling bitter about the inexcusable misuse of my girl Sevika; she was robbed of what could have been an amazing chance for character development, and the ability to carry on the political conflict established in P1. As a character that was shown very early in S1 to care deeply about Zaun’s independence, and having both the experience and political pull to do something about it, she really should have had a bigger role in S2. Again, I don’t think that there’s any particular in-story reason for disagreeing with the way the conflict between the two cities was resolved (as already established in S1 — and Silco himself agrees on this poin — Zaun isn’t in the position to demand much from Piltover, so its independence is still completely dependent on the Council’s mercy), but getting there should have been outlined in much more detail than just doing the “Piltover and Zaun fight together in this big Marvel-esque fight, and Zaun gets a seat at the council as an end-of-the-year bonus”, and Sevika was the perfect character to do it.

I disagree with the frequent complaint, however, that either Jinx or Vi should have carried on the political plot for Zaun. Neither of them has the mind for politics; having them involved in the political struggle would mean bending their characters well beyond what was established in S1, and I’m glad the show didn’t decide to go that way. Arcane’s politics are consistently shown to be extremely ruthless and unforgiving towards characters who are unprepared for them: Jayce’s whole arc in S1 serves to show exactly that. Silco really was the only Zaunite who could have, realistically, survived (and possibly thrived) in Piltover’s political arena. Sigh. I miss my wife.

(I wanted him and Mel to be besties so bad. Just imagine the levels of wit, cunt and immaculate drip they would have brought to the Council table. Please tell me there's fanfiction of this.)

[athymelyreply]

A highly recommended read. Full text of article under cut

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

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

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

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

What we can learn from released Hamas hostage Yocheved Lifshitz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[astrolocherry]

The Archetypes of Venus in Libra - Dream Girls

The Venus in Libra individual spells a unique magical social charm. She really comes to animate astral form amongst receptive company, and feels substantial before those who are willing to look past the masks and marvellous masquerade of her personas.

Venus in Libra eyes become mirrors that reflect the bouquet rising from the heart of the onlooker. People see their own image of exquisite beauty in her, and often feel uplifted and content as a product of time spent with her. It’s also possible then that people feel subconsciously entitled to her attention, or that she belongs to them. She may even experience some form of obsession or fixation from a former lover, stranger, or close admirer.

Beyonce - Contrast of Feminine (Venus/Libra) with the Masculine (opposite Mars/Aries)  “You don't listen to her. You don't care how it hurts. But you’re just a boy..” Lorde - “Be a part of the love club. Everything will glow for you” Mya - "These streets for affection. I got you. ... What kinda of girl, you like? ... Tell me, am I your type?" Anna Nicole Smith - Dionysian-Venusian. Aphrodite’s Grotto branded ‘ Blonde Bombshell’ on earth Grace Kelly - The Three Graces of Venus. A film actress who later became royalty, penned memoir ‘Born to Be Aphrodite’

Parasol of Prettiness - Dignified, demure delicacy, and innocence. Admired from afar, misunderstood up close. Seemingly incorruptible. White dresses, flowers, lace. Maintains gracefulness and repose despite outside conditions Incurable style and aesthetic taste.

Bonne Belle -  Pure and pretty, amicable however possessing a wilfulness that refuses to submit to unbecoming demands. Charm effect and refined intelligence that is resourceful and often underestimated. While kind and cordial by nature, she will still speak up when witness to a violation or injustice 

Broken Cutie - Engaged, animate, witty, and charming. An altruism, innocence, and sweet sensitivity repeatedly bruised and irreparably damaged by external hands of Fate moving through other people 

“I Have You Now My Pretty” - arouses a sense of urgency to come to her rescue; her plight ultimately becomes a uniting force.

Lady Favour -  Her love interest’s promise and prized possession. Keeping her promise relies on staying alive and returning from battle (Mars).

Cherry

[hulloitsdani]

PLS go on another rant about Kiran Fire Emblem I’m begging you 🙏

I love to read you yapping💞💞💞 I like your TedTalks

:D

Aw thank you stranger! I’m happy to provide!

So recently I feel that I have been putting Kiran Fire Emblem through the wringer. Which is all well and good, but I believe it’s time for them to have good things. As a treat. This oddly takes the form of book 5.

In case it’s your first time witnessing my monologues or are in need of a refresher, let me provide a little context. Kiran had a life before being summoned to Askr and a major part of their arc is suppressing just how deeply that loss affects them. Like it or not, it bleeds into everything they do. This all culminates into book 4, which was an all time low for their character. A lot of issues all started blowing up in their face all at once, last but not least being the grief they hold from losing their entire world. It very nearly kills them. It was an extremely bad time.

However, lessons were learned. Since then, Kiran has been trying to vocalize their discomforts more. It’s a bit weird though, considering Anna and Sharena witnessed firsthand their little meltdown in the realm of dreams. It’s… damnit it’s just weird! Really weird! Most of their cards are on the table now and it’s weird! It’s not like their friends heard about this stuff by talking to them, they SAW it nearly KILL THEM. The dynamic is, understandably, different than it would otherwise be.

If they weren’t willing trying, Anna would pry their issues from their mouth with crowbar. Hell, sometimes she does anyway if she gets, in her own words, “a hunch.” Sharena meanwhile has been very pampering. They didn’t know she could be more pampering than she already was, but oh boy were they wrong. Three homemade meals a day guaranteed under her watch. And if they’re being honest, it does feel very nice, which ultimately makes them feel awful because the realm of dreams was rough for her too. She should also… they don’t know. They feel bad. She has reassured them many times that it’s all good and that this helps her too. And how even if it didn’t, she loves them and would do this stuff anyway. They don’t doubt that anymore but… they still feel bad. They feel bad about feeling good. It’s all a complicated mess. They are telling Alfonse about this though, which makes it feel less overwhelming. His insights help. He provides a bit of a sanity check.

It is within this state of recovery that book 5 occurs. Considering the weaponry of their enemy, Kiran ends up talking a lot more openly about their world. Delving into the literal and metaphorical mechanics of it. And it’s oddly fun! Alfonse has a leg up since he’s the only one who has been curious enough to ask prior to this. So there’s many scenarios where a.) something Kiran previous told him finally clicks now that he has a better visual for what they mean, which leads to b.) Alfonse and Kiran trying their best to explain to Anna and Sharena. It’s an absolutely ridiculous sight to behold— Sharena catches on a bit quicker since she’s pretty good at visualizing things, but Anna has no such boon and is STRUGGLING. Kiran and Alfonse aren’t exactly teachers either, so it’s a fun time.

Then they meet Reginn.

It feels obvious, in hindsight, that they were bound to click with each other. At first though, it seems like it’s going to be the same dynamic Kiran always has with the new stray the Order picks up. Polite friendliness alongside genuine empathy with a side of reassuring presence. The group agrees to help and Kiran gets cracking on how to make that a reality. But then something interesting happens. As Reginn speaks in further vulnerable detail about her plight to them, Kiran begins… talking. Like actually talking. Talking about their family and their life prior to Askr.

It starts small. The both of them are fixing up Reginn’s metal horse (the Order broke it in their initial fight with her) and she asks how they know so much about her country’s technology. She knows they’re from an alien world and, well, they aren’t proficient at this by any means— but they know enough to be helpful. And for once, Kiran is honest. “…My mom was a mechanic.” They say, not turning to face her. “She, uh, knew how to fix this kind of stuff. Taught us a little bit.”

It’s a small snippet of information that has taken five seasons to wring out of Kiran, and Reginn of all people is the first one to hear it. It’s way easier to tell her, for a multitude of reasons. One of them being exactly that— there’s no build up. Reginn didn’t see their book 4 meltdown. She doesn’t know how big of deal this is for them. That’s good. It takes the pressure off and makes it easier. For Reginn, this is information they offered casually and willingly from the beginning. And in doing this, they keep talking and both end up relating to each other rather deeply. It quickly becomes obvious that Kiran isn’t simply helping her out of the goodness of their heart, but because they personally relate to her plight. Kiran was extremely close with their siblings, and now they may never seen them again. They don’t want the same thing to happen to other people. This recontextualizes a lot of their actions, but it importantly builds trust. Kiran is immediately knocked off this pedestal as some morally pious figure and into a human person in her eyes. Someone who gets it and wants to help.

This creates a delightful dynamic between them. She is immediately more than friend, as that’s pretty explicitly what the Askr trio are to them. This is different. It’s familial. Reginn is working with information and a cultural context pretty perfectly equipped to understand them in this way. And, considering the losses they’ve both experienced, they crave this placement in each other’s lives. It’s healing. Kiran lost their family and Reginn’s family hasn’t been a family since Fafnir took the throne. It’s far from a replacement, but it’s definitely filling a void. They both needed this.

Gods, they both needed this.

They needed someone to respond to playful quips with a laugh and a clap back. They needed someone to triple dog dare to sling a spit ball into the back of a god’s head. They needed someone to people watch with as a late night to early morning watch shift wrapped up. They needed a shoulder to lean on after Otr finally said all the quiet parts out loud. They needed someone to understand some parts about them a bit more inherently than either are used to, for better or worse.

Without this, neither of them get better. Not anytime soon, anyway. But luckily, Reginn and Kiran entered each other’s lives at just the right time.

[megala-theia-praxidike]

My Thoughts on Impulsiveness and Carelessness of Sejanus Plinth

There is no doubt Sejanus is smart but he has a big fatal flaw. He is an impulsive, self-destructive teenager who feels so much guilt that sometimes has no regard for those he could possibly hurt with his actions. Sejanus' guilt of being able to live a quality life in the Capitol made him want to compensate by being loud about how he hates being there.

He's compassionate and cares for his fellow districts, yes, but ultimately he feels guilty.

When he failed to connect with Marcus, he wanted, then, to give up or exchange tributes to lessen his guilt (cuz at least it wasn't someone from his district or one he knows).

If Coryo had taken his offer of exchanging tributes, would he have done what it takes to save her? Would he cheat? Ally with other mentors? Kill another tribute? Would he have stomach having appeal to the horrendous sponsors? Would he be willing to give her poison to kill other tributes? Would he create a thesis of new horrendous rules and spectacle that would give her advantage inside the arena like the betting and sponsor system? Or would he not participate at all and leave Lucy Gray to her whims aside from perhaps feeding her before the games?

When he entered the arena, he did not think what would happen to his parents, to his mother, to anyone associated with him. In the Arena, he laments about his father buying his way into power and how they left district 2 and how guilty he is about having to be safe. He didn't think that power, that money, that buying could make changes.

Sejanus wanted to become a medic, he wanted to help, he wanted to end the suffering but he didn't think that ambition takes time and takes more than gut, but also ruthlessness and efficiency. He has to stomach horror and morally grey actions.

Sejanus was careless in 12, he knows the reaping in 12 was rigged He knows Billy Taupe is with the Mayor's daughter who got Lucy Gray reaped. So associating with him is dangerous especially when he wants to break rules and help people in the district.

Sejanus and Coriolanus witnesses what happens to rebels in the district (Arlo Chance) and those associated with them (Lil). He is always with him. Coriolanus witnessed Sejanus drawing maps and out in the open, conspiring with Billy Taupe, the very day he and Lucy Gray reunited, even Barb Azure witnessed and knows what they were doing.

so it wasn't really hidden. Sejanus knows Coriolanus lurks and Coriolanus already knows he is doing some kind of trouble. It's just that Sejanus promised he'd stop for his sake but lying about it made Coriolanus even more paranoid.

Coriolanus is smart as well, thinking of the worst possible outcomes is his biggest hobby, he said so himself in chapter 1 but he is stressed and anxious for a month now. He is paranoid that hecould die by being associated with Sejanus so he snoops into Sejanus' stuff only for his fears to be affirmed.

Sejanus goes with Coriolanus everytime they go to the covey because he is the only one in the peacekeepers who knows Coriolanus and Lucy Gray's relationship. He is always with him and he is conspiring with rebels, Billy Taupe of all people, that could get Coriolanus hanged even if he won't do anything. And even if Coriolanus didn't tattled with the Jabberjay and followed Sejanus to Spruce, Mayfair would still be there and would have tattled or Spruce would have shot her and would have doomed them both.

Sejanus is a compassionate and kind boy who has the potential to be so clever and perhaps even become some one who could have helped aid the rebellion. He may be district and knows their plight but he is also a rich boy who never had to grow up, scraping to survive. He had his father protecting him so he never got to be as afraid for his life and be careful with it the way Lucy Gray and Coriolanus have to. He wants to be the hero, the doer, not dreamer. But it seems like he can't handle or don't know that he had to walk through burning coals to get results.

[rowinablx]

Aaron, I never met you before you became the villain of my TV screen. Your story unfolded like a tragic opera, each act more dramatic than the last, leaving me to wonder if you were ever given a fair chance to sing a different tune.

As a young boy, you must have dreamt of the roaring crowds and the glorious touchdowns, never imagining the demons that would eventually consume you. The NFL, that glittering beast that promised to fulfill your wildest aspirations, became the stage for your most harrowing nightmares. A place where the cheers could not drown out the echoes of your father's fists or the whispers of your own troubled mind.

The locker room, a sanctuary for many, became your battleground. Here, you fought not just for your place on the field but for the right to be seen as a man, a warrior. The fear of being outed, of losing everything you had worked so hard to achieve, must have felt like a vice grip tightening around your throat with each passing play. In this hyper-masculine world, your bisexuality was a secret you carried like a grenade, waiting to blow apart the carefully constructed facade of invincibility that you had built.

But that does not excuse the lives you stole, the families you shattered. Your victims' names echo through the annals of time, a painful reminder that heroes can indeed fall. Yet, as the final whistle of your story blew, it was not the roar of a triumphant crowd that filled the air, but the haunting silence of a life unraveled.

In the quiet hours of a prison cell, did you ever find the peace that eluded you on the gridiron? Did the love for your daughter pierce the darkness that enveloped you, offering a glimmer of redemption in a world that had condemned you to a lifetime of penance? Avielle, the one constant in a world that had become a tumultuous sea of accusations and betrayals, a symbol of purity in a narrative stained with the ugliest of sins.

The walls of your cell, cold and unforgiving, bore silent witness to the anguish of a man who had once had the world at his feet. The stark contrast between the bright lights of the stadium and the harsh fluorescence of incarceration must have been a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, amidst the despair, there was also a grim solitude that allowed you to confront the demons that had long lurked in the shadows of your psyche.

I'm so sorry we failed you as a human being, your sexuality, your CTE, your father's expectations, your fears, your pain. In a world where athletes are worshipped and simultaneously vilified, you became a cautionary symbol of what happens when we demand too much of our heroes and offer too little in return. Your tragic end was not just the culmination of your personal demons but a reflection of a society that often chews up and spits out those who dare to deviate from the script we write for them.

The NFL's response to your plight was a masterclass in institutional cowardice. They had the power to champion a conversation about mental health, sexuality, and the long-term effects of their game. Instead, they retreated into the shadows, hoping the storm would pass. They were complicit in your suffering, turning a blind eye to the very real consequences of a culture that equates masculinity with brutality and suppresses any semblance of vulnerability. The league that had once crowned you as one of its own now distanced themselves from the messy, inconvenient truth of your humanity.

I just hope you're free from pain now, Aaron. The prison of your own mind and the concrete cell that housed your body could not contain the tumultuous narrative of your existence. As the world outside moved on, eager for the next scandal to consume, did you find solace in the quietude of your solitude? Did the whispers of your daughter's laughter offer a semblance of peace in a world that had become so loud with accusations and judgment?

The final chapter of your life was written on April 19, 2017, when you took your own life in that small, stark space. The news of your death brought a macabre silence, a momentary pause in the relentless churn of the 24-hour news cycle. The questions of "why?" reverberated through the hearts of those who knew you and the minds of those who had only known of you. Was it the weight of your convictions that led you to this desolate place, or the burden of a life lived in fear of the truth?

But we keep forgetting that Shayanna has to wake up on her daughter's birthday which is also your birthday, and face the cruel twist of fate that has made your memory both a celebration and a scar. How does one explain to a child that her hero, her protector, her daddy, was also a man who took lives? How does she reconcile the love she feels for you with the horror of what you did? Her eyes, a mirror to your soul, reflect a love so pure it's blinding, a love that refuses to be tainted by the shadows of your past.

She'll grow up knowing you only through the prism of a screen, her memories of you a mosaic of fleeting moments and second-hand stories. Will she understand the complexities of your heart, the love you had for her, the love that was as fierce as the demons that consumed you? Or will she, like so many others, be forced to navigate a narrative that's been hijacked by the media, a story that's more fiction than fact?

Aaron, your life was a tapestry of light and dark, a testament to the fragility of the human spirit. In the grand scheme of things, you were more than the sum of your actions, more than the sins that came to define you. You were a son, a brother, a father, a lover, a friend. You were a man who, in the crucible of fame and fortune, lost his way.

And I'm sorry that nothing has changed since that day in April, when you left us with more questions than answers. The world of football has not yet fully grappled with the demons that took hold of you. The league that profited from your talent remains eerily silent on the issues that haunted your life: the concussions, the homophobia, the crushing weight of expectations. They have yet to acknowledge the role they played in the tragic crescendo of your story.

I'm sorry we keep fucking failing

[selkiewife]

Hi there, I have a question related to this quote:

"The deserter died bravely," Robb said. He was big and broad and growing every day, with his mother's coloring, the fair skin, red-brown hair, and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. "He had courage, at the least."

"No," Jon Snow said quietly. "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark." Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.”

Bran I, A Game of Thrones

My question is, in contrast to Robb Stark and Jon Snow, what do you think Theon Greyjoy’s assessment of Gared and how he responded to his impending death was? We saw Theon kick Gared’s head when it bounced over to him, but what was his private assessment, as well as his outward response to Ned, Jory Cassel and the other men, in your opinion?

This is a great question! I think that if he allowed himself to think about it, he would have a reaction closer to Jon’s and that is why he doesn’t allow himself to think about it. I think Gared’s plight is too close to home to him. I think that’s also why he laughs and kicks the head away from himself. His instinct is to get the head as far away as possible and to cover his discomfort with laughter- by making light of the situation.

It’s a delicious opening for Theon because we are encouraged to see him as an “ass” as Jon says. But then when we return to that chapter after ACOK, we realize that there is so much complexity going on in that first scene with Theon and his reaction to it. I mean even knowing that, it still seems so wildly disrespectful and inappropriate- yet weirdly, why is it THAT action that is considered so brutal and not Ned executing this poor man to begin with- a man who the readers KNOW is telling the truth. Or! Taking an 8 year old to witness an execution lol. I mean I get it. This is a GREAT introduction to this world and these characters and how harsh things are for them. But still it does make me laugh how Theon kicking the head is what really stands out as inappropriate lol.

When it comes to what he said to the other men afterwards, Bran describes him as “laughing and joking as he rode.” I think he would probably avoid conversation about the execution- diverting any serious discussion by making a joke or changing the subject. It also strikes me that he seems extra jovial… which makes me think he is using the laughter and joking and high spirits to show he is not afraid and to cope with his buried feelings of helplessness and fear. As we hear Dagmer tell him later: “The living should smile, for the dead cannot.” I’ve headcanoned that perhaps that’s one of Dagmer’s classic sayings and that maybe Theon heard him say as a boy. Maybe it’s part of the reason Theon smiles. It’s defiant in a way. With each smile, he shows that he is still alive and can still smile. That they haven’t gotten the best of him yet.

I also kind of love that he’s refusing to be somber about this like the others. He’s almost making a mockery of their solemness. And honestly, good for him.

I did write a fic about Theon and beheadings if you are interested. It does briefly feature Gared’s beheading:

Don't Lose Your Head

Thanks so much for the question, anon, and I’m SO sorry I took so long to answer it!

[greatideas-badwriter]

Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 33

AN: Sorry that the update is a few days late. I was on a trip with my Mom!

Baron Haruno was uncharacteristically silent until the three Uchiha royals led him into Madara’s personal office and presented him with an urn filled with ashes. His face turned red. It was as though all the manners left his body because he barked, peering into the urn, “How can you be sure this is my son when this is all you have?” 

Itachi responded promptly, an air of professionalism intact, “I assure you that the palace mages were very thorough during the identification process. This is Hihara Haruno.” 

Sasuke accidentally shared a look with his uncle, whose eyes burnt with anger. It wasn’t easy to determine the cause of his ire. It was, however, simple to make the deduction that he didn’t wish to be on the receiving end of it. The second prince had never witnessed Madara’s ruthless personality firsthand, but the stories of him during the war when he and his father were in their early twenties were the thing of legend. It was said that the current king killed nearly a thousand people in a single day, all without using magic. The amount of energy, ability, and anger needed to commit such a feat would be immense. 

“Was it not the same crackpot mages who’ve also spent months unsuccessfully searching for the boy?” Baron Haruno bit. 

Madara’s glare hardened, his aura darkening, “Don’t misinterpret this formality as an act of forgiveness for the terrors with which your son plagued Konoha’s only princess. As far as the royal family is concerned, this world is a far better place with that poor excuse for a human dead.” 

Sasuke couldn’t help but add, poison coating his words as he leered at his father-in-law, “Be grateful you’re receiving this much. If it’d been me to discover him alive, nothing would remain but memories.”

It was as though the prince’s lack of faux-kindness reminded the Haruno man of their last meeting and he became awkward while still visibly irritated. He said nothing more about the remains. 

Clearly, the Uchiha men believed their business to be finished, but Kizashi hesitated before sighing defeatedly, “I must admit I haven’t traveled here just to collect my son’s remains.” He avoided Sasuke’s gaze. Instead, he tried to hold Itachi’s, likely since he was the sole member of the royal family who hadn’t shown his distaste openly. “Will you please have your mages inspect my youngest daughter?” 

Everyone stared at him in disbelief. The Baron quickly continued, sensing his plight was unlikely to be thoroughly investigated, “Since shortly after Sakura’s departure, she’s become unrecognizable. She’s always been a kind-hearted girl, but she suddenly became cold and intelligent beyond her years. I’m concerned something is very wrong.” 

‘It’s likely the one humane being in her life disappearing made her realize what a terrible family to which she’s been born,’ Sasuke thought and badly wanted to say. 

Instead, the king bit, “Who are you to ask a favor of us?” 

“Your Highness, please-” “I’ll allow your family to spend the night since it’s already afternoon, but that is the extent of my hospitality. You’re to leave the palace after breakfast tomorrow.” Even Sasuke was intimidated by Madara’s firm tone. 

With no room to argue, the unwelcome guest excused himself from the office. Itachi shared a look with his younger brother, a clear warning not to press the subject, but the prince couldn’t help it. He knew how much the youngest Haruno daughter meant to his wife. Even if the rest of her family was despicable, the girl had personally done nothing wrong. So, he cautiously said, “Uncle, we should at least have the girl inspected by the palace physicians.” 

The king’s gaze remained cold as he stared down his nephew. He took a moment to ponder before shaking his head, “I forbid it. The Haruno family has received more than enough lenience from us. If I treat someone who has disrespected the crown so kindly, our kingdom’s enemies and supporters alike will view the Uchiha name as spineless.” 

Itachi’s teeth gritted. He obviously wanted to say something but didn’t. Sasuke should’ve taken his lead, but he also didn’t. “The princess holds the girl very dear. Please reconsider.” 

“I’ve made my decision, Nephew. I suggest you accept it,” The king’s voice raised. 

The prince opened his mouth to argue, only for Itachi to interrupt, “Brother, I need to speak with Uncle alone. Can you excuse us?” 

Sasuke begrudgingly left, knowing full well that his brother just didn’t want him to butt heads with the king. When he turns the corner down the hall, headed toward the garden where his wife was likely entertaining her sisters, Kizashi Haruno is waiting. His eyes lit up when they landed on the prince, and he fell into step at his side when Sasuke walked right past with the intent to ignore him. 

“Surely you’ll help me, Son-In-Law! Think of how upset Sakura will be if something happens to her beloved sister!” 

Sasuke froze, the man following suit, before facing him with murderous intent boiling his blood. “How casually you speak to me after I explicitly said I’d kill you if you stood in my presence again.” 

Baron Haruno barely looked affected, standing tall and proud while dropping the doting father-in-law act. “Does Sakura know her husband is someone who’d kill a father simply trying to find help for his daughter?”

The prince couldn’t hold back anymore. He hit the man with all his might. Kizashi stumbled, lifting a hand to his bleeding lip and glaring at the prince, who bent forward slightly to hiss, “Sakura is also your daughter! Where was this protective nature when she was being neglected and mistreated within the walls of your own estate?” In the end, that was the biggest issue Sasuke had with the man: that he’d been a bystander and likely even directly responsible for his wife’s tragic upbringing and lack of self-value. 

“That filth is no child of mine!” As soon as the disgusted words left his mouth, the baron closed his lips with an expression that said he was trying to hide the fact that he hadn’t meant to say that. 

‘Does he mean he doesn’t consider her part of his family? That much is obvious, so why would he feel the need to say it? Unless…..’ Sasuke’s glare darkened, “If you’re not her father, then who is?” 

Finally, Kizashi’s face showed unease, fear even. He straightened his spine and gave a poor attempt at covering up his mishap, “I am her father, biologically. I simply meant that, since my late-wife didn’t birth her, she’s not recognized as an official part of my family.” 

How easily it was to determine his words as false was surprising, considering how cunning and collected he’d always been. Sasuke was suspicious of his swift demeanor adjustment and shoved the older man against the wall, “Tell the truth, or I’ll make good on my promise to end your life here and now.” 

Just as quickly as Baron Haruno had become scared did he seem smug once more. His lips curled into a grin, “Any affection you have for her will cease when you find out. Are you certain you wish to know?” The prince was understandably confused but didn’t back down. If it was about Sakura, he had to know. It could be something life-threatening or maybe it could explain some of the unknowns about her, like the strange healing power she possessed. 

“While it’s true her mother was a performer, the man who sired that thing is the same one who gave you the mark on your shoulder, My Lord.” He said the title with disrespect clearly in his tone.

It was as though the world came to a standstill. Sasuke’s heart seemed to stop before starting again at double the pace to make up for lost time. He stepped back, away from the baron, “...The wizard Orochimaru?” 

“Her mother, unbeknownst to me, was already with child upon coming into my possession. It wasn’t until she gave birth that I realized I wasn’t the father,” Kizashi explained, appearing both unhappy with the facts and gleeful that the prince was so obviously disturbed by the news. “To answer the question you’re bound to ask, why I bothered raising a bastard child, her mother claimed to curse my entire family if I didn’t.” Then, his satisfaction faltered, his eyes falling into a glare, “It was shortly after my youngest’s birth that I tested the witch’s promise. I attempted to drown Sakura, which led to my wife’s death.” 

Sasuke could barely wrap his head around all the new information. ‘Does that mean both of her parents had magical abilities? Depending on when Hana was born, Orochimaru could’ve been nearby, or he could’ve been captured by my family already.’ He wasn’t sure of the youngest Haruno daughter’s age, just that she was younger than sixteen since she’d yet to have a debut into society. 

“So, no, I care not for whether that devil-woman lives or dies. I do care for my actual children, so I’m begging for your help despite my pride.” 

The prince couldn’t figure out what to say or how to speak even if he did somehow manage to form a coherent thought. Instead, he turned and left the pathetic man in the hallway. His pace was quicker than before as he searched for his wife. 

He spotted her sitting on a bench in the garden next to her youngest sister. Her body was angled toward the girl, so he couldn’t see her face. As he approached, his steps faltered when a familiar burning met the scar on his shoulder. His hand clapped over the area as he froze. ‘It hasn’t done this since I gained control over The Curse. Is he trying to take over with sheer force?’ Clearly, the demon wanted to arise, but Sasuke gritted his teeth and refused. To be honest, since obtaining control over his body, he wasn’t sure how much easier or difficult it might be to regain it if he should let Akuma feel the sun. 

“Hello, Prince Sasuke,” a dull voice broke his train of thought and he looked up to see the two women looking his way. Hana had been the one to speak, but he could only look at his wife’s face. 

It was evident something was wrong by her pale skin and panicked expression. The thought of somehow bringing up the topic of her biological parents fell away as he approached her side. Instinctually, he held out a hand for her to hold, and she did, albeit softly and while lowering her gaze. 

‘Whatever it is, she doesn’t want to acknowledge it now.’ 

His eyes looked over her to confirm she had no new injuries before noticing someone was missing, “Where is the other girl?” The one that tried to weasel her way between them. 

“Haruka is across the garden. She and Sakura do not get along, so she angrily stepped away.” Hana answered, her tone just as emotionless as before. Sakura nodded slightly, squeezing his hand. 

Taking the hint, Sasuke knelt, “If you’ll excuse us, I believe the princess has become exhausted.” This time, the pink-haired woman didn’t protest when he picked her up and carried her back into the castle and upstairs toward the room they’d shared last night. That alone was enough to convince him her mood was low. 

As soon as the door was closed behind them, he opened his mouth to tell her what he’d learned of her lineage, only for her to cut him off. Her hand held a fist of his shirt as she tearfully said, “That’s not my sister down there! I don’t know who or what it is, but it’s not her!” 

It took a moment for the man to comprehend her words. He sat her down on the edge of the bed. She must’ve taken his silence as doubt because she shook her head, “I know I sound crazy, but I’m telling the truth, Sasuke.” 

“I believe you,” he quickly responded. And he did. “Baron Haruno offered concerns regarding her, as well. He asked my uncle to have the mages look over her.” 

Relief met Sakura’s face, “Oh, thank goodness. Surely they’ll be able to figure out what’s happening.” 

The man nodded but didn’t know why he didn’t tell her the truth, that the king had forbidden investigation of the matter. He also couldn’t bring himself to tell her that everything she knew about herself was a lie. 

As he wordlessly smoothed out her hair and kissed the top of her head so she couldn’t see the unease upon his face, his eyes closed. Until he’d solved all the mysteries surrounding the Haruno family and her birth, he’d let her focus on healing and the child growing in her stomach. 

[delicrieux]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 | endless drabble series (winter edition)  

pairing—cedric diggory x f!reader summary—a dose of truth with hot chocolate (17) request from @cxarloxe​—Hi can I request a Cedric Diggory x Gryffindor reader where they’re actually the best of friends and she has liked him for years but she lost hope because it’s like he never sees her y’know? so when Cedric starts to pursue Cho, she decided that it’s time for her to move on but when Cedric saw her getting close to someone else he just got really jealous and possessive and confess that he actually like her too, he just doesn't want to ruin their friendship if it doesn’t work out? thanks! word count—814

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the winter prompts list 1 & 2 !  

A plight of changing scenery runs by your mind: mid-afternoon snowy scapes and Cedric’s sharp voice echoing like a whip, the tell-tale signs of fury dying pale cheeks rose, the uncomfortable silence in a fire-lit room. You sit wrapped in woven blankets and feet warm in woolen socks, holding a cup of hot chocolate to your face and breathing in slowly, cautiously, acutely aware that he sits on the other side of the room. Cedric’s quiet after today’s ordeal. Thoughtful, perhaps ashamed. 

Winter vacation is unbearable like this. Your modest home, a flat tucked in the nook of London, is too small to hold all of these feelings you can’t make out. The words you wish to say melt on the tip of your tongue. You listen to the fire crackle. In moments, you think he’s about to break his silence, but then he slumps into himself again.

“D’you like it?” You ask, startling him. Your voice is soft and cold-ridden, a rasp between the lungs. You motion to the drink in his hand, “My dad’s recipe.”

“It’s delicious.” 

Silence again.

You wish to know what is wrong - what had happened to upset him so terribly to the point that he had snapped. Cedric’s always been kind, even shy at times, and never overtly displeased or angry, at least, not in the way he had been today. You had known him your whole life and never felt what you do now. In the line of years of your friendship, the atmosphere has never once been so tense, nor has your wit and vocabulary failed you so greatly.

You file through topics, settle on something painful but easily masked with a smile: “How’s Cho?”

He scoffs, sets his mug down, flexes his fingers and stares into his hands unable to look at you, “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” He speaks eventually.

The chocolate is tart and sweet in your mouth, “...Well, you said it, not me. But yes, I do think your actions as of recent have been...”

“Thoughtless?”

“Stupid.”

“Suppose I deserve that.” He mumbles, sinking into your father’s plush armchair. His gaze levels somewhere over your head, “Sorry. For today.”

“Don’t, I like a scandal.” You state, “It’s the whole pizzazz - fireworks and exploding crackers, the pop-and-whiz of cotton candy smoke from Junko’s that, I, well, George and I, stole.” You take a sip, “But it wasn’t quite that today.” You lower your gaze, “I don’t really know what that was.”

He had been staying with your family for the winter holidays, a yearly occurrence that no one found strange. And on the daily trek through London’s ancient architecture and narrow roads, there was a muggle boy you ran into only in summer, when the asphalt was warm and there was chewing gum stuck to the sole of your shoe. He had said hello and moved for a hug, and you had returned with the enthusiasm of someone trying to move on. 

Cedric liked Cho, after all, and there was no need for you to stick around and squeeze your heart sore. 

There were harsh words exchanged, then, displeased glances and a coldness you have never felt directed your way from the one that mattered most. The summer boy stumbled back, flustered, and with “’S nothing, man, cheers.” rushed away quickly. A thin layer of snow covered the pavement. Only his tracks were left.

“Sorry,” He mutters, “not sure, either. He a friend of yours?”

You shrug, “I guess.”

“He looked...nice.”

Your eyes narrow, “Merlin’s beard, Cedric, just spit it out already.”

He frowns, “I can’t.”

“Why?”

He’s incredibly torn for someone so young. You dare not linger on his face, afraid to recognize that feeling, afraid to misread it. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can you show me, then?”

“You’ll hate me.”

“There’s nothing you could do for me to hate you.”

He seems to be in a fight with himself, one he eventually forfeits and stands. His pretty features are dyed in the ember light. Cedric approaches slowly, and your breath suddenly rings so loud. You set your cup down on the table with quivering hands.

He sits down beside you, taut and awkward, and he’s nothing like he’s in school - charming and talkative. He seems a tad lost, and you watch him anxiously, ready for...what, exactly?

“You...You won’t hate me?” He asks again, finding your gaze, locking it there. Your heart thuds in your chest and you slowly shake your head. He’s beautiful, your mind sounds suddenly struck by the thought, consumed by it. Your mouth goes dry. He nods.

“Then...Then...” He breeches the distance between the two of you, his lips landing on your in a warm, sweet kiss. He tastes like hot chocolate and your head spins.

He pulls back slightly, his warm breath fanning your lips, “Sorry, then, sorry, but I really--I really like you.”

hope u liked it ! <3 for 2023, tpwk ✧･ﾟ:

[kurakurakura99]

Thinking about Changeling:The Lost and how the concept of the Fetch as allegory is kinda genius to a trans/nonbinary reading. The fetch is a facsimile left in the place of victims, spirited away and changed by the true Fae. It is impossible for most people to ever tell the difference:one could go their entire lives without suspecting that your family member has been replaced, but the fetch is different:it is static, resistant to change. the fetch of a child will grow up like you'd expect it to, and grow old as its expected to, as well, and nothing more:it follows the path that blends it in. Does things that those around them would look at go, "oh, they would do that. That is so like them." Consider the plight of a trans person snatched away before they came out, or their egg cracked. It stands to reason that their fetch would NEVER transition:Their family expects their boy to grow into a young man. A deviation from that pattern draws the wrong kind of attention. And when that person comes back, changed by their time in Arcadia, they might behold the Fetch living in their shoes: The imagery of Her family enjoying a holiday dinner with Him springs to my mind. And whats worse is that the family probably likes the fetch better. fathers and mothers pass the gravy to their perfect son when in another life, without the intervention of the kindly ones, they would have ran their true child from the family home when they came out. The same true child that watches from a window now as they share their hearth with an invader, a body snatcher of sorts. Thats gotta sting. I know how much it stings because my family forced me back into the closet multiple times:They simply ignored my confession that I didn't fit in the neat category of "boy" that had been lovingly prepared for me. They told me I wasn't transgender and that was that to them, or they just outright forgot after a while. I have been both the fetch and the changeling at the same time in this scenario. The question is, what does the changeling do now? does she simply vanish in the night like I did, leaving the past life to be content with its fake memory of her, or does she burst through the window and take that fake memory, cave in the loathsome imposters skull until he collapses into twig and twine and leaves, ripping that happiness and baring cruel, unbelievable reality like tusks at everyone witnessing the event? Does she meet her false self in secret, and try to work with it, understand it? That reminds me of half-measures I've seen taken by friends. Call me by my deadname around my dad. Please. I think the most horrifying outcome from a trans perspective is that of replacing the fetch:doing away with it in secret and concealing the truth about yourself to slip into your old life. But that life no longer belongs to you: His flat chest and blunt teeth are antithetical to who you really are, now. Your claws and yellowed eyes and femininity are going to scratch under that false skin forever, until you take it off. Maybe you'll do it in secret, letting your horns breath in nightclubs and venues and forest paths far from the eyes of the people who knew the false you (in both senses of the term) or maybe you'll stuff your true nature away as far and deep as you can, even if it destroys you. Change is deeply, deeply terrifying after all.

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

Finished reading Sanderson Secret Project 4! Thoughts below the cut (mostly copied from me messaging my friends on Discord)

the vibes are so scifi. Like it's still Breaths and Shardblades but he's being so science about it

Spren in Stormlight: magical girl fairy companions. Spren in this: AI companion built into your scifi augments

Ooh, Nomad's been to Ashyn? That's the only planet with floating cities near Roshar, iirc

I love that Rosharans always specify shade when they mention eye color. She doesn't just have green eyes she has light green eyes. That adjective is important

Man on the run for his life hasn't slept in a week no way out keeps getting distracted by the urge to do anthropology

Another thing that's very funny is Nomad is talking about how unbelievably low on Investiture he is and it's still, like, unfathomably wealthy by Nalthis standards

Actually I'm gonna look this up. Nomad has 1500 BEUs in chapter one. He had at least 18750 shortly before that.

In Warbreaker, Vasher starts off with around 50 Breaths, which he considers low while acknowledging that many people would not. Most Returned have the equivalent of 2000. This is enough to be worshiped as gods.

Ah okay looking at the coppermind for the Heightenings this makes sense. It's all very consistent

Fifth Heightening: 2000 Breaths: fast healing, high durability, casual magic Ninth Heightening: 20000 Breaths: oh, you know ;) Tenth Heightening: 50000 Breaths: now that's just excessive

Now I will exit the coppermind before I have another "let me just check Rayse's species midway through reading RoW" moment [Fun fact: vital status is listed right next to species!]

I'm sorry did this man break his radiant oaths and then Mayalaran his shardblade back to pseudo life? Is that what's happening here?

Chapter 6 "No. Even in my head I will not admit Rock is right about the airsick lowlander thing"

I thought part of that phrase sounded like Nazh's name!

Gonna be honest, given how very dead He is, I somehow doubt that Adonalsium will remember their plight eventually

Love that "one of them is secretly a dragon" is a legitimate possibility

Huh. I wonder if they're Ghostblood Scadrians, Harmony-sent Scadrians, or just random people

Chapter 9: "Walking into a storm wasn't something usually done on [Roshar]" Unless you're in the middle of dinner and you really need a knife, of course.

I really wonder how confusing it would be to read ssp4 without reading Stormlight Archive

Oh boy. Wit's here!

Like if you only read the secret projects as if they were a standalone series how long would it take to realize that the cabin boy, the coatrack, and the hologram are the same person

"back before God died" You mean before you and your friends killed God? It didn't just happen there was a whole 17 person conspiracy

Hoid has two modes: "I am a silly little man" and "I am older than your planet and I will weep as I allow it to burn". No in between

"Adonalsium will remember our plight eventually" Man who just got off a skype call with one of the people who murdered Adonalsium ten thousand years ago:...

"Can you fly?" "Who told you I used to- oh you mean fly a ship. Yeah probably."

"The Chorus tells of our old world..." "Yes, yes, the forests of Hell, we've all been there"

The implication that there's a thriving interplanetary job market for specifically bronze Mistings...

If there's one thing that I've learned from Homestuck, it's to never turn your back on the body

Every new hint about what went down on Roshar in the back half of Stormlight just increases my fear about what's going to go down in the back half of Stormlight,

"I was destined to unite all of my people" Man who used to work for Dalinar Kholin: l, and I cannot stress this enough, ol

"Your planet shouldn't have different countries. You should have conquered and unified it all" Sir I cannot stress enough how Big Roshar is. They can barely keep the Alethi Princedoms unified there are so many more people on Roshar than here and they are so much more spread out

Now I'm just picturing that Ron Swanson meme. "I laugh at who I want - Wit"

It feels appropriate that this guy's ancestors are from the planet most closely associated with Ambition

It also feels appropriate that Mercy was there, tbh

Love that this guy is not a particularly soldier-y guy by Rosharan standards, but he's got so much soldier energy in comparison to Canticle that no one has yet noticed that he physically can't hurt anyone

Love that they talk about actual rocket science but it's interspersed with phrases like "raw investiture" and "zephyr aether" and "why take all the effort to travel the void of space when you can just walk through another dimension to travel between planets?"

Yes, yes, the plot to kill God, we've all heard of it

Khriss's Second Law :D

I'm really wondering how newbie friendly this book is. Like, they're explaining everything, but they're also throwing a lot of terms around and all of them are things I already know. For me, who read Warbreaker, when he mentions Commands as a thing on Nalthis that's just a refresher. If that's all the context I have...

The fact that this book includes both hoverbikes and a room full of angry ghosts in the same town

Oh that is a very different perspective on the whole lighteyes/darkeyes thing

Ah. Hemolurgy. From Threnodites. He's right, the cosmere is an increasingly small place

Highspren????

What did he even swear to?

I mean "Auxiliary" isn't a very Honorspren name and obviously not all of Bridge Four are Windrunners but Most Of Them Are

262 "You threw out your conscience years ago, I know, though I never had a chance to meet her" Seriously what is going to go down in the back half of Stormlight

Roshar Man: yeah you can totally go into the murder storm my friend Kal does it all the time lmao

They're called Skybreakers because they break you. Storms yeah Bridge Four!

Yessss He did the thing! I was hoping he'd do the salute!

Oh, that's who Zellion is

Hoid, Zahel, etc: I'm changing my name just for fun. Just for the vibes. New planet new me :) Also same planet new me :) Aliases are so fun :) Elegy: I'm literally not the same person anymore but I am keeping the name because it fits me really well. Dead me can change her name idc

Yeah something really bad goes down in the back half of Stormlight. They should not be that surprised to see a Rosharan.

Awakened Steelmind? This tech is so fun

"I like to think that this is all part of God's plan. That He made before He died :)" -- Tootsie Noodles, Starship (2011)

"God had nothing to do with it it was all Auxiliary." "And what's Auxiliary?" [Zellion remembers that spren are fragments of Honor and Cultivation, who are/were themselves Shards of Adonalsium] "..."

"Sigzil was a capable fighter, but far from the Order's best" -- Rhythm of War chapter 6

I'm done btw

Also I didn't talk about her much but I love how down for murder Elegy is. She loves her sister and she's learning all about different kinds of strength but she was so happy when she had that shardblade

Also, speaking of Stormlight, didn't love Nomad mentioning that glowing red eyes remind him of his friends! Hope he just meant Renarin and Rlain but I'm worried he didn't!

In retrospect it makes perfect sense that they already know about the Shattering. They fled Threnody, which is only Like That because of the Odium/Ambition/Mercy fight that killed Uli Da and Splintered Ambition. Those three only existed as Shards because they had already killed Adonalsium.

Also I hadn't realized or had forgotten that Shades are a "being from Threnody" thing, rather than a "dying on Threnody" thing

Fascinating that Auxiliary's corpse can still change forms even when his consciousness is completely gone. That implies that Maya and the others did something on purpose to lock themselves into sword form, rather than it being a direct consequence of the spen dying.

Also don't think I didn't notice Sanderson deliberately dancing around exactly what Sigzil's oaths were. He was Fourth Ideal in two different Orders and everything past Second is personalized

Of course the Scadrians don't interfere except to ruin things. That's so Scadrial

Love Nomad repeatedly going "Okay... I'm Azish, though." Man isn't Thaylen or Alethi it's a completely different culture that happens to share a planet. The Cinder King has no concept of this. The Greater Good doesn't even understand the difference between Roshar and Scadrial

I was laughing at the Cinder King for thinking that you could just conquer all of Roshar (it's so big), and then I remembered the Voidbringer reveal in... I think Words of Radiance? And just started laughing harder. They literally did conquer the entire planet, other than the Shattered Plains and a few other remote areas. That canonically happened

Adonalsium is literally mentioned more in ssp4 than all the other Cosmere books combined lol

[dcviated]

getting chatty :: open

send a symbol to get my muse talking about a facet of their life

@more-than-a-princess also sent: 👑 Role models / mentors [ for Wylan! ]

"Oh come on, it takes like five minutes to look at me and go oh, the reason he turned out the way he did is because he didn't HAVE role models or mentors! No father figures, just people who tried to tell me what to do and take advantage of me. What, should I go back and thank my oppressors? Give them an award? Seems kinda like a waste of time to me." After all, most of them were now dead. And the rest were untouchable to begin with.

If the roll of his eyes were any heavier Wylan might start to sympathize a little bit with Sisyphus's plight with their boulder. Because he at least, didn't quite imagine them happy. But what sort of philosopher was he, in the end? All his wit and cunning only managed to keep him alive. Well. That's reward enough in the end for many.

Not him, though.

"MMmmmnnn. Okay. But there were some people I appreciated, enough. Not sure if I'd categorize them as role models. But. There was a guy who lived out near Vegas where my sister and I were growing up. When I fell into the work, later, through a little thing here and there we got uh. Acquainted. Yanny? Yano? I swear he had a dozen names, but so do I. Like I said, acquainted! I called him Mister Pants! Because his pants were ridiculous. Big hippy flannel painted... patterned... anyway." Wylan gestures in dismissal.

"He helped me out, and looked after my sister here and there. Not really an uncle, not really a babysitter. But there was pity. Not that he could do anything about my situation, but at least it was a stopgap measure until Kat went off to college, y'know. Since she still had a few years where we had to pretend she was legally able to go to school and keep the child services off us. Normal boy growing up bullshit."

"Guess it's been about three years since he died. Going to his funeral felt like just another day at his gun range, minus the firearms. Just a bunch of people hanging around and chatting. He was the only person who called me Ze, other than Kat. Ze-man. How he'd do it."

...

"Yeah..."