#militant decency

[spiced-wine-fic]

Sir Terry Pratchett

Ten years after his death, Terry Pratchett’s funny, clever (and bestselling) books remind us that it's not enough to be good in our hearts, writes Marc Burrows. We must refuse to accept a world defined by pettiness and indifference

Ten years ago today, Sir Terry Pratchett died. He was the best-selling author of his generation, knighted for services to literature. A man who responded to an Alzheimer's diagnosis by making it a political issue, working for increased funding and awareness while campaigning to legalise assisted dying, something he did while authoring or co-authoring another 10 novels. In his own words, he was, "from birth to death, a writer".

Pratchett was often minimised and dismissed because he wrote fantasy novels — he was very proud of that. They were about wizards and witches, incarnations of Death, talking rats, giant turtles and tortoise gods and, on one occasion, a sentient cheese. Those books have sold over a hundred million copies. And because they were fantasy, and funny, and, above all, because they were popular and bought by the sort of people who read them on the Tube and swapped them down the pub, he was often ridiculed. "A complete amateur," snorted the poet Tom Paulin on BBC's Newsnight Review in 1994. "Doesn't even write in chapters." This epithet was added to the back cover of Pratchett's next book.

Paulin's broadside sums it up. While the likes of William Burroughs and Irving Welsh can break the form of the novel and be hailed as geniuses. Pratchett, as he once said himself, put in "one lousy dragon" and he was deemed a hack.

What the more supercilious literati overlooked was that Pratchett wrote about people. He used fantasy to reveal the weirdness, cruelty and everyday brilliance of humanity. Readers didn't respond because his books were set in a flat world carried through space by a turtle but because they were achingly, and often ridiculously, human.

They were also angry. At Pratchett's core was a finely tuned sense of injustice that powered his best work. He couldn't abide bullies, pettiness, or bureaucracy that saw people as "things" – an attitude that he once described as being the very definition of sin.

Those who studied his work describe his approach as "militant decency," though he never used the phrase himself. His books are deeply moral but never sanctimonious. They burn, yet are tempered with warmth and wit. They understand the world's cruelty but insist that people are neither fundamentally bad nor good but "fundamentally people".

Pratchett’s characters fought against injustice through small, persistent acts of goodness. The cop Sam Vimes refused to let the powerful grind down the weak. The witch Granny Weatherwax gave people what they needed, not what they wanted. Her young colleague Tiffany Aching learned that being a witch wasn't about magic, but about looking after those who had no one else. Pratchett's books hammered home the message that doing the right thing is often difficult, exhausting, and thankless, but that doesn't mean you don't do it. This was a man who, when knighted by the Queen in 2009, forged his own sword – his rationale being that if you’re going to be a knight, you ought to act like one. 

That spirit underpinned everything he wrote. His books cut through hypocrisy with razor-sharp clarity, not just by pointing them out, but by showing how they could be fought with determination, wit, and decency. His characters weren’t perfect, but they tried. In Pratchett’s world, trying mattered. In an age of lies that spread around the world "before the truth has got its boots on" and open hostility towards marginalised groups, Pratchett's militant decency feels more urgent than ever. He understood that kindness isn't passive but an active, radical stance. His books remind us that it's not enough to be good in our hearts, we must also be good in our actions. We must stand up, speak out, and refuse to accept a world defined by pettiness and indifference.

Ten years after his death, we don't just miss Terry Pratchett's writing. We miss his voice; his wisdom, wit, and ability to cut to the heart of things. But people live on in the stories they leave behind. Pratchett's stories, full of fire, compassion, and a stubborn refusal to let injustice go unchecked (and also some deeply, deeply silly jokes), still have so much to teach us.

The world is still ridiculous. It is still cruel. And we still need people who refuse to treat others as things.

Now more than ever, we need Terry Pratchett.

(From an Independent Article behind a paywall so I copied and pasted)

[the-august-one]

Gonna put this song into heavy rotation for 2025. Remember, militant decency, self care is revolutionary, existence is resistance, and NO DEFEATISM. Keep your chin up, comrades. ✊🏻❤️

[marmalade-yesterday]

Books should make us rebellious

Jingo, Terry Pratchett

[astrolegal]

People talk big about militant decency then get really aggressive when somebody actually gets militant for the sake of decency

Like, do you see anyone else getting wound up about a problem that we can do something about, but for whatever reason, won't?

No? Then don't get fussy when someone finally gets fed up enough to get noisy about it.

Dear people who aren't physically disabled who plan to write fantasy settings:

[ID: Several images taken from the Geordi La Forge yes and no meme format, with Geordi holding out a hand disapprovingly for the no section, then pointing in approval for the yes section.

The first image is the meme:

No: "Saying the existance of magic in your setting means there are no disabled people (this literally just means disabled people are killed. AKA eugenics)"

Yes: "Having disabled people who use magical mobility aids and other assistive devices. Realizing that someone is still disabled even if their prosthetic arm is made of magic instead of plastic."

This is followed by four more panels of yes section:

"Geordi la Forge is still literally disabled. His visor helping him does not erase his disability and make him magically abled."

"Toph from Avatar: The Last Airbender is still literally disabled even though her Earthbending helps her. It does not make her disability ~magically~ go away."

"Having your disability be accomodated does not mean the disability goes away. Having a prosthetic hand, even one that's made of magic, does not mean you're not disabled."

"Magical mobility aids do not mean disabled people don't exist. It just means they use magical mobility aids instead of plastic or metal ones. A limb made of magic is still a prosthetic even if it's made of the soul of the universe instead of plastic and metal."

Then another no panel: "'There's no disabled people beacuse magic'".

Then one last yes panel: "'Magic helps disabled people in a variety of ways'".

End ID.]

This also applies to science fiction; just because Luke Skywalker's prosthetic hand is super advanced doesn't mean it's no longer a prosthetic, or that he's not disabled. Same with Darth Vader - just because he has a suit that lets him breathe and walk around doesn't mean he's not disabled. (And Star Wars' propensity for making the villains visibly disabled while the heroes disabilities get covered up by super advanced prosthetics is a topic that deserves its own post, especially with how ableist some of the authors of the books are. Troy Denning is especially ableist)

Edit:

Because people keep being fucking obnoxious and ableist in the tags, yes,,, motherfuckers, if you refuse to have disabled people in your setting, that does make you fucking ableist. If you say that the magic is used to cure all disabled people and that's why they don't exist, that's fucking eugenics.

You cannot ""cure"", more like remove all disabilities without fucking eugenics. Magically automatically destroying disabled fetuses (a very fucking popular trope!) is eugenics.

The only way to fucking "cure" autism is to fucking kill all autistic people, also known as eugenics!

What about people with PTSD? Do you just fucking brainwash them so they aren't traumatized anymore?

Do you force all Deaf people to be able to hear? Do you force all blind people to be able to see? Do you force all anosmics to be able to smell?

Do you magically force everyone with a speech impediment to speak to your standards?

Do you force everyone born with bodily or facial differences to live up to your fucking standard of beauty?

You cannot fucking say "disablities don't exist in this universe because magic cures everything" without inherently saying that eugenics exists in your fucking universe.

Not all fucking disabilities need a cure. If you ""cured"" my autism I'd just be fucking dead. You'd literally just be changing me into what you think is fucking acceptable.

Stop fucking arguing in defence of ableists on my fucking post so you can pretend that eugenics has never been written about in magical settings when it is extremely fucking prevalent.

And while we're fucking at it, let your gods damned characters become disabled over the course of their story, and call them disabled within the fucking story. I don't care if they're a robot. I don't care if they have magic. Not all fucking damage can be fixed. Curses exist. Hardware can go out of fucking date and no longer be manufactured anywhere.

Let your characters become disabled and do not magically fucking cure them back to brand new every single time they get hurt. The only thing you accomplish by doing that is destroying any chance of ever having stakes.

No, "magical healing leaves scars on the mind from the memory of the injuries though!!!!" is not fucking good enough. Let your characters have scars. Let them become disabled. Stop being fucking ableist cowards.

Edit number fucking 2:

No, motherfuckers, you do not get to comment "if the disability was caused by magic it's not ableist to cure it with magic". You are the ableist this post is about. Shut the absolute fuck up, stop treating being disabled as the worst possible outcome, and just admit you're a fucking ableist. If you don't want your characters to become disabled, then don't fucking make them disabled.

[ID: The Garfield "you are not immune to propaganda" meme, now edited to read:

"If your first thought upon reading this post is, 'Oh, but it's okay to magically cure disabilities caused by magic!' Congrats…you are the exact sort of ableist jackass this post is about."

End ID.]

Edit number fucking 3:

Autistic people exist! People who are born with disabilities exist! You cannot create a setting where disabled people do not exist because we're all "cured" or "fixed" and not inherently say that you are killing disabled people as soon as they're born, or fucking aborting us as soon as you figure out we'd be born disabled! That's fucking eugenics!

There is no way to "cure" autism without eugenics! There is no way to "cure" people with body differences without eugenics! There is no way to make disabled people nonexistant in your setting without eugenics! Thinking you can and should "cure" and "fix" all disabilities IS EUGENICS!

Also:

[ID: A character shouting at the camera, now edited to read: "Shut up about Dungeons and Dragons! Shut up about Dungeons and Dragons! If the rules of Dungeons and Dragons are ableist, then fucking change them! It is your fucking personal responsability to be a better person than your bigoted society wants you to be!". End ID.]

[ID: White text on a dark brown background with white and black borders around the edges, that reads:

"I don't fucking know or care about Dungeons and Dragons.

This post is not about Dungeons and Dragons.

Do not fucking throw the rulebook of Dungeons and Dragons at me like it's some sort of 'Gotcha!'.

You will literally just be blocked like the rest of the ableist assholes who've already tried it.

If you play dungeons and dragons, it's your responsability to make your games not be ableist, even if it means breaking the rules.".

End ID.]

I do not fucking care what the ableist rules are in Dungeons of Dragons. Do not fucking throw ableist rules for a game I have never and will never play at me on a post I made so that people could learn how to make their settings less ableist. If the rules in Dungeons and Dragons are ableist, then fucking change them. If you don't want to change them, then stop fucking playing an ableist game.

Disabled people deserve to see ourselves represented in fiction just like everyone else, without any fucking requirements that we be "cured" or "fixed" before the story ends.

How the fuck would you feel if a trans and gay character's whole story revolved around going on a quest to become straight and cis, did so, and only then was allowed to live happily ever after?

Why do you fucking think suggesting people write stories about disabled people going on a quest to be cured because it's the only way they'll ever be happy is any less fucking offensive?

Also:

This post is NOT a place for you to talk about how disabled people in fiction should have the option of curing their disabilities. It's just not. That's the fucking default for this society. That is not a revolutionary concept. It's not novel. We fucking know this society wants us gone. A post about how disabled people deserve representation is not the place to talk about how "Well, actually, in fiction disabled people should be cured!" Like that's not the fucking universal default???????????

Edit #4:

Everyone needs to stop tagging this singing praise for Fullmetal Alchemist. A story that uses disability as a punishment and the characters are on a quest to cure their disabilities is not the amazing representation you're all claiming it is just because the character who is only disabled because of DIVINE PUNISHMENT uses prosthetics.

Read this post, and this one. Fullmetal Alchemist is a hell of a lot more ableist than you people are letting on.

guess what you can now find a PDF version of this post on the web archive.

Edit #5! August 23rd, 2023!

A) Everyone. Disabilities that can only exist in the magical setting are still disabilities.

Trying to cure the younger brother's magical disability of being a soul floating around in a magical suit of armour is, in fact, going on a quest to heal a disability!

It doesn't matter if the older brother doesn't want to get his limbs back when they're going on a quest to heal the younger brother's disability! Especially when they BOTH get magically healed at the end!

Magical disabilities that can only exist in that setting, but not real life, are still disabilities, and it's not okay to magically heal them either! What part of the Garfield meme on this post did you all choose to ignore?!

B) When you leave tags on a post you are reblogging, the original poster can see them! When you leave tags on this post, I can see them!

If you think this post is ""too aggressive"" then simply do not reblog it! Don't fucking tone police me on a post I've had to edit five times now due to the constant ableism people have been commenting since I made it!

I have been called the R slur by multiple people in response to this post! People have literally reblogged this post to defend eugenics abortions! You can't see these comments or replies anymore because I blocked the poster!

If you think minorities are being too aggressive by responding appropriately to bigotry, you're a bigot! And you should either not reblog the post at all, or at the very least, shut the fuck up and not tone police us!

Do not fucking put tags on this post complaining I'm being too aggressive! That's called tone policing and you're a bigot if you do it! Don't fucking do it on anyone else's posts either! They can see your tags too!

C) When I fucking say Harry Potter fans are banned from this post, yes, this means YOU!

Either stop supporting a billionaire who's literally using the profits from her bigoted shittily written books to fund REAL FUCKING GENOCIDE, or fuck off!

By continuing to support the Harry Potter series, you are literally giving JK Rowling free fucking advertising! You are encouraging more people to read the series and watch the movies, spending more money and giving her more fucking money with which to LITERALLY SHAPE A COUNTRY'S LAWS TO COMMIT GENOCIDE. She is literally fucking fighting to make being trans illegal! She is literally fucking fighting to have even more of autistic people's rights taken away!

You cannot fucking be a fan of the Harry Potter series in 2023 and call yourself an ally to all the minorities harmed by JK Rowling and the bigotry baked into her shitty series!

Read another book! The Web Archive has tons you can read for free! Literally every single book on gutenberg.org/ is free! Including audiobooks for some of them!

If you write Harry Potter fanfiction, simply fucking get rid of the names and identifiable features and start writing original fiction instead! It's literally free!

Not supporting a literal fucking genocidal billionaire costs LITERALLY NOTHING! And if you refuse to fucking stop supporting JK Rowling, which is what you are doing when you support the Harry Potter series and squeal over her OCs, you are not an ally to any fucking minority! No! Not even if you're trans yourself!

= = =

Edit again Nobember 28th 2023 because this comment is just. such a perfect example for all of you that think this doesn't happen.

butter-whore2 said, two hours before this edit:

kind of a fan of tumblr's slightly more algorithmically elements for reminding me of the hell's other people construct for themselves but this one hits like five of the boxes. How do people do this to themselves? it's such a bizarre way to act over media I genuinely do not believe is capable of stirring an emotional response the metaphysics of disability here are unintentionally really funny but disability is not a coherent ontological framework, it's a vague descriptor for literally thousands of different things none of which lend themselves to categorizing Moralizing over fiction is incredibly lame.

Liking harry potter is also incredibly lame, it's not morally wrong nor transphobic and you do not get to decide that lol. people literally do get "cured" of their disabilities all the time, many of them have a positive experience in doing so. this is not what eugenics is.

the anti abortion stuff lol

Literally how do you live like this? you guys don't even read real books I don't get it.

Archived version of the comment for posterity.

So yeah, lofl, block this fucker.

[brain-drippings]

Militant Decency

A friend posted this today asking “How do we navigate this?” I have been thinking about that. So has my hubby. We’ve talked about it. I have some thoughts on how to engage with people you don’t agree with. Resist the urge to argue with them or make it so they could say you are attacking them. People like XPhobic76 already feel like they are under attack. Whether you think they are under attack…

[romerona]

The Swan Princess; Westeros Version.

The Targaryen Princess is the younger sister of Rhaenyra and the second daughter of King Viserys and the late Queen Aemma x Lord Cregan Stark in a dynamic inspired by The Swan Princess.

Viserys and Rickon Stark arrange for the princess and Cregan to be wed once she comes of age. To build familiarity, they reunite them every few years (a rare moment of decency among men in House of the Dragon, but let's roll with it).

However, from a young age, they absolutely despise each other, setting the stage for a classic love-hate relationship.

Young fem Targ reader x young Cregan Stark.

Warnings: kids being kids.

The second encounter.

Next

Cregan Stark lingered by the sweets spread, trying his best to fade into the carved wooden panels that lined Dragonstone’s grand banquet hall. The lavish celebration for Prince Aemond’s second name day was in full swing, the chamber brimming with lords and ladies draped in silks and velvets. Overhead, crystal chandeliers cast dancing lights across the polished floors, while the mingling scents of spiced meats, honey cakes, and salt-laced sea air reminded Cregan just how far he was from the North.

He would not have chosen to be here of his own accord—his father, Lord Rickon, had insisted upon it. The North had to show deference to the crown, and so here he was, a wolf trapped among gaudy southern birds. The swirl of vibrant fabrics and the swirl of conversation grated on him, making him feel more foreign with each passing moment.

He absently picked at an apple tart, gaze drifting around the hall. Laughter rolled in waves, bright silks shimmered, and voices overlapped like waves against a rocky shore. Then he saw you.

You, just eight summers old, stood on the dance floor, your silver hair braided and held in place by glittering dragon clips. A genial lord—perhaps one of your father’s many courtiers—guided you through a stately dance, each step practised and careful. Your gown of pale red silk, shot through with gold thread, flared as you twirled, catching the light as if it were spun from Dragonfire. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra clapped politely, regal and composed, yet it was you who drew every eye, all luminous joy and childlike grace.

You seemed taller than he recalled—though still slight in that dainty, southern way. Everyone knew that you and your elder sister were the King’s favorites, and your presence commanded a sort of reverence. Lords angled for a moment of your attention, ladies curtsied and cooed with honeyed compliments. It was as though the court revolved around you.

From her seat by the King, Queen Alicent watched you dance and laugh. Her mouth curved in a careful smile, but even at ten, Cregan could sense it was a mask. The queen, he suspected, did not relish sharing Viserys’s affections with the daughters who stole so much of his warmth.

He glowered at the thought, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Honestly, what made you so remarkable? You were willful, well-pampered, prone to speak your mind, and insufferable too, if anyone were to ask him. You weren’t that special. Plenty of other children had those traits, too. And yet—no matter how he tried to turn his attention elsewhere, his gaze kept straying back to you, spinning in the lord’s gentle arms, your soft laughter rising above the music as if it had a life all its own.

Cregan stiffened the moment you approached, his posture snapping to an almost militant straightness as though he were preparing for a lecture rather than a conversation. The mischievous gleam in your lilac eyes immediately set his jaw tight—it was the same infuriating spark that had earned him countless reprimands from his father for failing to act with proper decorum around you. You sank into a delicate curtsy, the motion practised and graceful, yet the teasing quirk of your lips betrayed any semblance of genuine respect.

“Princess,” he greeted you with a curt bow, voice clipped. “What an unexpected honour.”

Your tone dripped with feigned gravity as you replied, “The honour is all mine, my lord. Stumbling upon the northern wolf lurking beside the sweetmeats… One might almost think you’ve been tamed.”

Cregan’s brow furrowed in irritation, a flash of defiance sparking in his grey eyes.

“A wolf doesn’t require taming, Your Highness,” he countered. “I stand exactly where I choose.”

You tilted your head toward the table piled high with sweetmeats and pastries, your voice light with false innocence. “And this is where you choose to linger, Lord Stark? Tell me, do the pastries in Winterfell rival these in quality?”

His retort was clipped. “They’re simpler, yes—but far more to my taste than this… southern absurdity.”

You drew a theatrical gasp, hand pressing over your heart. “How you wound me, my lord. Are you implying that life in the North eclipses all else?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I do not imply. I state fact.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, your voice carrying an air of mock civility. “Well, I ought not to take this as an offence. After all, it’s remarkable that you manage the common tongue so gracefully, considering your… brutish northern customs. Tell me, Lord Stark, do you and your kin still howl to your old gods beneath trees, hoping for a reply?”

Cregan’s hand tightened around the tart, the edges of the crust crumbling under the force of his grip. His jaw locked, and his stormy gaze fixed on you with a warning glare. “Since we’re trading such pleasant observations, Princess, perhaps we should turn our attention to dragons—or rather, your conspicuous lack of one.”

The teasing light that danced in your lilac eyes extinguished instantly. Your expression sharpened, the flush of indignation colouring your cheeks.

“What did you say?” you demanded, your voice like the edge of a blade.

Cregan didn’t flinch, folding his arms as he leaned slightly forward, his tone steady and deliberate.

“I said,” he repeated, drawing out each word with an almost casual air, “that a Targaryen princess without a dragon… is painfully ordinary.”

Your entire body stiffened at his words, and your hands curled into tight fists at your sides. Your face burned, the flush deepening as you glared up at him with fiery intensity.

“You will take that back,” you hissed, your voice trembling with barely restrained fury.

“I will not,” he replied simply, meeting your gaze without so much as a blink. It was a standoff, the air between you crackling like kindling set alight, neither willing to back down.

Before he could utter another syllable, you thrust both hands against his chest. The force of the shove made him stagger backwards, one heel catching on the table’s wooden frame. In a desperate bid for balance, he reached out, only for his fingers to catch the trailing hem of your fine silk gown.

The sound of ripping fabric tore through the air, followed by a cacophony of disaster as you both tumbled backwards onto the table. The grand centrepiece—a towering, intricately decorated cake—collapsed under your combined weight, sending frosting, crumbs, and sugar flowers flying in every direction.

For a moment, the hall was silent, the music grinding to a halt as every pair of eyes turned toward the spectacle. The only sound was the slow, steady drip of frosting onto the polished floor.

Cregan blinked up at the chaos, realizing he was sprawled awkwardly amid a sea of ruined confections. Beside him, you were similarly dishevelled, your silver hair streaked with frosting, your gown torn and stained with layers of cream and crumbs.

“You… absolute… oaf!” you hissed through clenched teeth, scrambling to sit up, your lilac eyes blazing with fury. With surprising agility, you scrambled onto him, flailing your small fists in a chaotic flurry.

“You shoved me!” Cregan barked, raising his arms to fend off your flurry of tiny fists. Your attempts to pummel him were more chaotic than effective, but you were determined.

“You insulted me!” you countered, your voice sharp with indignation.

“And you called me a brute!” Cregan retorted, his voice rising in frustration as he seized your wrists, halting your frantic blows.

“That’s because you are a brute!” you snapped, wrenching your arms free with a sharp tug. Your small frame trembled with indignation as you raised a tiny fist, ready to land what you clearly thought would be a devastating blow—but before you could make contact, a broad-shouldered knight, Ser Harwin Strong, intervened.

In one swift motion, he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of grain, preventing any further skirmish while you continued to struggle, your fury undiminished. His expression was caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“Unhand me, Ser Harwin!” you demanded, still reaching out in an attempt to land your blow, your face aflame with indignation. But Ser Harwin only tightened his hold, keeping you securely aloft as your small fists flailed at empty air.

“Cregan.”

He froze the moment that familiar voice reached his ears—low, firm, and unmistakably displeased. Heart thudding, Cregan scrambled upright, hastily brushing crumbs and frosting from his tunic in a futile attempt to salvage some semblance of dignity, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he prepared to face his father, Lord Rickon Stark, whose stern grey eyes were now fixed on his son’s every move.

And then, beyond the circle of onlookers, came the voice of King Viserys. The instant he called your name, your thrashing ceased as if a spell had been broken. One fist remained clenched mid-swing, but the sound of your father’s stern summons froze you in place. You wriggled once more on Ser Harwin Strong’s shoulder before going limp with a huff of frustration, clearly aware that further resistance would only make matters worse.

The great hall seemed to hold its breath as King Viserys stepped forward, his frown deepening at the sight of the battered dessert table and his frosting-smeared daughter. Guards and courtiers parted to let him pass, and in the stillness that followed, every eye was fixed on you and the young Stark lord who stood before you, equally dishevelled.

The King’s gaze swept over the scene: the shattered remnants of the centrepiece cake, frosting streaked across the floor, and two children—one caked in sugar and silk, the other in crumbs and frayed northern dignity—standing stiffly before him. His expression shifted from confusion to thinly veiled disappointment as the whispers around the hall grew.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but carried the commanding weight of the crown. “What in the Seven Hells is the meaning of this?”

Ser Harwin carefully lowered you to the ground as though handling a volatile brew. You straightened your spine as best you could, brushing futilely at the frosting streaked across your gown. Despite your bedraggled appearance, you jutted your chin up stubbornly, attempting to smudge away stray frosting with all the dignity you could muster—though you succeeded only in spreading more crumbs along your sleeve. You shot a fiery glare at Cregan, who still looked like he wished the floor would swallow him whole.

Lord Rickon Stark chose that moment to step forward, clearing his throat. “Your Grace, my son—”

Viserys raised a hand, silencing him without a word. All eyes were on the King, and he, in turn, focused on the two of you with a mix of bewilderment and annoyance.

“Princess,” he said, meeting your gaze. “You will speak first.”

You gave an indignant huff, shooting another scornful glance at Cregan before reluctantly turning to face your father.

“He insulted me grievously, Father—told me I was ordinary because I do not yet ride a dragon!” Her lilac eyes flashed, and she swiped another glob of cake from her hair with a wrinkled nose. “So I merely defended my honour.”

“Aye, by launching yourself at me,” Cregan muttered, though he tried to appear calm, there was no hiding the stiff set of his shoulders—or a dollop of frosting sliding down his cheek. “And need I remind you, Princess, that you provoked me first by comparing my prayers to… howling at the moon?”

A chorus of hushed snickers rippled around them. Viserys’s brow lifted, and for a brief moment, it seemed he fought off a faint smirk.

“I see,” he said, folding his arms. “So, if I follow correctly, you have reduced a royal banquet to a frosted battlefield… because of a few sharp words?”

At that, you set your jaw stubbornly. “Words are not so harmless, Father. They carry weight, and his were particularly unkind.”

“And what of your words?” Cregan interjected, his chin lifting in quiet defiance. “They were none too gentle either, Your Grace.”

You flicked your gaze back to him, a sharp retort already on your tongue. “Oh, do hush, northern brute. I’d not have wasted my breath if you hadn’t been so—”

“Enough.” Viserys’s voice rang out, firm and commanding, cutting through the rising tension like a blade. The authority in his tone stilled you both, silencing further outbursts.

“You are both of noble blood,” he said, his gaze hard as it swept between the two of you. “This—” he gestured at the ruins of the cake, the scattered fruit, and the stunned courtiers “—is not how nobility ought to conduct itself. Especially not before half the realm’s finest lords and ladies.”

Your cheeks burned hotter than dragonfire, but your pride refused to crumble entirely. “Father, I—”

Viserys’s gaze hardened, silencing your protest before it fully formed. “You will each apologize. Properly.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but his iron stare left no room for negotiation. Your teeth clenched, but with a long-suffering sigh, you turned to Cregan, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“It seems,” you began, each word forced through your stubborn pride, “I owe you an apology.” Your gaze flicked to your father, then back to the northern boy. “By the King’s command, of course.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened as he met your glare. He gave a shallow bow, his voice measured and formal.

“And I apologize for my words, Princess. However,” he added, unable to stop himself, “they were not spoken without reason.”

Your eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed as though you might lunge at him again. But instead, you stood straighter, fixing him with a withering look. The silence stretched between you, heavy and sharp, until your father cleared his throat pointedly.

Both of you turned away at last, but the exchange between your gazes spoke louder than any words: I despise you.

And his? The feeling is mutual.

Helloooo, I hope you all enjoyed this one mess lol. But Oh, do I love making this. Also, thank you so much for the support, the likes, comments and reblogs, you all really make me have so much motivation.

<3 Thank you so muchhhh.

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[thesustainedworldatransverse]

"Yes, sir. I've given that viewpoint a lot of thought, sir, and reached the following conclusion: arseholes to the lot of 'em, sir."

Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

Militant decency courtesy of Sam Vimes.

[girlactionfigure]

Enemies With Keffiyehs and the Enemies Without

URI KURLIANCHIK

“The enemy is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on.”

—Joseph Heller, Catch-22

In times of war and strife, it’s important not to lose track of the difference between enemies and opponents. 

An opponent is a person with whom you share a goal but disagree on the methods. For example, I don’t consider Biden or the Labour party in Israel to be my enemies. I think they’re very wrong about their methods on how to achieve victory and peace, dangerously wrong even, but I don’t think they actively wish to harm me. They’ve analyzed the situation poorly, reached the wrong conclusions, and came up with a bad solution. Is this dangerous? Oh yes! Is it hostile? No. 

Surely, no one will doubt the patriotism of the current head of the Labour party, Yair Golan, who was among the first to charge into the Gaza Envelope on October 7, driving a civilian car, to save lives. He just doesn’t understand the psychology of the enemy so he makes poor political decisions. I’ll act within the best of my ability and within the limits of the law and civil decency to make sure he doesn’t get any official positions, but I certainly don’t wish him any harm.

An enemy is someone who wants to destroy you. It can be someone hiding in the ruins with a rocket launcher, or someone manipulating global media against from a fancy office in a skyscraper. It makes no difference.

Obviously a Hezbollah militant is an enemy. Greta Thunberg or Ilhan Omar are also enemies. Their objective is my destruction and I see no reason to treat the Nordic advertisement against drinking during pregnancy any differently than I would the bronze age barbarian hiding in a cave with murder in his heart. 

Both literally want to kill me.

They say all is fair in love and war. This is a battle for survival. You owe the enemy no civility, no fairness, no understanding, no compassion. 

This is something that people must understand: when we reach this level of hostility, this is no longer a debate. This is war. Any person who talks about “decolonizing Palestine” or “dismantling Israel” wants to murder you.

The only thing you owe your enemy is defeat.

Not in a million years would I condone violence against Kamala Harris, whom I consider a poor politician. I explained to people why I believe that voting for her would be a mistake but that’s the extent of the actions I’d condone “against” her. I’m happy that she lost the election because I think this is in the best interest of basically the entire human race, herself included. Whenever engaging her supporters online, I always strove to act with civility and debate in good faith. We all want America and Israel to be prosperous and successful, we just disagree on how to achieve this.

Enemies, on the other hand… Well, let me tell you a story. 

Julius Streicher was was the founder and publisher of the violently racist newspaper Der Stürmer. Imagine if Nick Fuentes and Jackson Hinkle had a baby (I apologize for that image) in a world with no community guidelines.

Julius was such an extremist that he was condemned by other Nazis. 

That’s right. That guy was too racist and hateful for the god damn Nazis. This, along with his generally disgusting behavior, resulted in him losing all party offices by 1940. 

He spent the rest of the war as a very rich and very hateful publisher.

In 1945, Streicher was captured in Austria by a group of American officers. Streicher was not a member of the military and did not take part in the planning of the Holocaust or the invasion of other nations. Nevertheless, he was sentenced to death. 

Why? Because he was an asshole.

Okay, it’s not something you can put in an official paper. Here’s a quote from the actual judgement:

“For his 25 years of speaking, writing and preaching hatred of the Jews, Streicher was widely known as 'Jew-Baiter Number One.' In his speeches and articles, week after week, month after month, he infected the German mind with the virus of anti-Semitism… Streicher's incitement to murder and extermination at the time when Jews in the East were being killed under the most horrible conditions clearly constitutes persecution on political and racial grounds.”

I’m sure you can think of one or two people in the West to whom this description would apply perfectly.

After October 7, these people cannot claim ignorance of the genocidal intentions of Iran and her proxies. This was probably the best-documented genocidal massacre in human history. 

There’s no way Spanish Prime Minster Pedro Sánchez didn’t know Israel was being bombed by five countries when he tried to block weapon shipments to Israel. None of the groups bombing Israel ever hid their genocidal intentions towards the Israeli people. Nevertheless, he did it. 

He’s an enemy.

The objective of these people is the destruction of the Israeli people. They’re not naively trying to achieve peace using the wrong methods. They’re not just trying to stop the war because they love humanity. No adult is that ignorant.

They want Jewish blood and lots of it.

Their goal is the same as Stericher’s, only they’re more careful with their words. In no small part because of what happened to Streicher, whose genocidal rants made him very rich but ultimately bought him the noose.

So keep this in mind. We have opponents and we have enemies. 

Don’t confuse the two and act accordingly.

[lives4lovesworld]

Truly wish dany/targaryens stans would stop bothering. The amount of daily posts that aim to "counter" or even pander to nonsensical anti bs is excessive and after years quite honestly boring and tedious.

Quite frankly I fail to understand what we gain from this, adhering to a holier-than-thou moral code, especially since no one else is compelled to even pretend to do so? Is the goal here for them be completely distorted to the point they resemble other characters? antis supposed favorites? As uninteresting to us as they subconsciously are to their stans? Which is the real problem here and the reason why they are the way they are (hypocritical stealing clowns and nuisances?) But perhaps I have a completely different less-morality-bound approach to consuming media in my free time than the rest of my fellow stans.

No downplaying/refuting Valyrian blood purity, empathizing non-Valyrian marriages, pointing out the origin of slavery are found in Old Ghis and not the Freehold, no opting for the most gracious interpretation of members of House Targaryen will ever stop antis from painting and hypocritically single out everything Targaryen/Valyrian related as kkk- or "imperialistic" coded or whatever woke buzzword of the day. They live to pretend-clutch their pearls and hold only them to modern standards of a fantastical utopia, while every other feudal character can be as archaic as expected from their pseudomedvial upbringing with their houses being wardlords

Speaking for me, I STAN their blood purity and incest. For me, IT IS a defining characteristic of House Targaryen that makes them unique, no matter how "problematic" it may be. I STAN it because GRRM fabricated scandalous, passionate love stories that I chose to interpret as consensual and politically advantageous, that brought forward incredible, magical gorgeous characters able to ride dragons that inspire love and envy alike. Who shine all the brighter when one contrasts them with literally any other characters and unions that are and breed doomed mediocrity and are born out of stale duty. I perhaps have a bais for pure blooded Targaryens that look the part than any prefect bastards or half breeds, or targ x targ to any other couple.

I also stan cruel Maegor, particularly for showing Oldtown its place and declawing the Militant Faith because I enjoy reading about the presumptuous Christian Vatican equivalent getting its ass handed to them. I stan Rhaenyra and she still can be a pampered proud princess-turned-queen. The same way I prefer canon Daemon as a rogue, an ambitious prince who seduced his brother's heir with perhaps also political hopes in mind and because he wanted his gorgeous niece as a bride instead of his cold barren wife. A legend that slay the pathetic cunt that was his nephew.

And while I'm at it: I also refuse to care about every "likeable"/pitiful character simply because it would be the "morally right" thing to do, nor will I root for the characters I like to do it. I don't care for Helaena and her children, nor the strong boys or any half-considered-"poc" Targaryen, nor will I even pretend to see "reason" in the greens actions, nor do I even want to see Dany "overcome her hatred"/bais against the usurper's dogs and any descendants of them. Or for her to be that altruistic to turn away from the throne to save humanity.

No amount of "call-out-posts" what a misogynist, racist, cultist, classist or elistist I am will change that because why OH WHY should I give a fuck about what anyone online thinks of me. Why should I allow anyone to bully me into streamline my enjoyment?

Especially by the people that do not even have the decorum of pretend to have any sort of decency. So they can use the most misogynistic, classist language and expect submission to their attempts to rule fandom spaces with iron fists and delusions, and canonize their favorites' sainthood and entitlement to feudal supremacy often only because they ✨️suffered prettily✨️ and fit some anesthetics while I must tolerate them trying to scold me into caring so greatly about fictional grey faceless mass of common people that would die were my favorites to pursue their ambitions. Meanwhile the same people would have any would-be-subjects die of famine and cold as long as their favorites get their crowns GRRM would never grant them in canon anyway. Give me a break. And let's not even start on how dragons and incest are suddenly the solutions as long as they don't belong and is not practiced by Targaryens.

To make this clear: this post is NOT a not-so-subtle incognito-anti post of ✨️i lOve all mY wAr CrimInaL eUqally!;' LeT tHeM bE mAd AnD unHinGed uwu,"! love all mY mOderAte chAsTe hoPes Of the fUtUres and mAd imPeriAlistS. 🥰✨️

I simply wanted to say; perhaps we should NOT GIVE A FUCK, "own" the """""bad""""" and be "problematic" and "irrational" in our selective love for characters and houses like EVERYBODY FUCKING ELSE.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

For anyone who doesn't know better*, the term "Gender Critical" sounds like it should mean the opposite of what it does.

It sounds like it should describe a philosophical position of questioning Gender as a social construct: how it came to be, and why, in the name of decency, it has come to be used as a weapon for policing people's sense of Self and their roles in Society.

Instead, the people who've chosen the term are Militant Gender Fundamentalists, who demand that people accept, without question, our Society's gender dogma.

*Me, a few years ago.

[weirdlet]

Having a PMSy depressy week and frustrated with the 9-6 and the logistics it takes to support it basically evaporating downtime, friendships, creativity and energy, because I’m either at work, thinking about work, getting to and from work, or doing the laundry I couldn’t do while at work.

It’s keeping the lights on. But it’s not getting me anywhere. And with a whopping five days of PTO a year, I can’t just take a day off to reset and refresh when I feel like it. Gotta save that shit up for ER visits. Which, thankfully, seem to be fewer this year so far, but I would just like the OPTION to say ‘I’ll clean this up later, I need some me time.’

A small, first-world complaint when people are literally getting disappeared to concentration camps. But the system is designed such that until the soldiers come marching down your street, you still have to make rent.

I am chewing over my little scenarios for comfort. Lady orcs are baking bread, bounty hunters are getting caught with child, and the world is being saved by pluck, hope, and militant decency in a vague jumble in the back of my head.

[beardedmrbean]

The son of one of the founders of Hamas has blasted the terror group’s student supporters in the United States, accusing them of participating in Hamas’ brutal crimes and declaring they “need to go to a mental asylum.”

Mosab Hassan Yousef, the son of Hamas founder Sheikh Hassan Yousef, made the remarks as he appeared on “Dr. Phil Primetime” last week to debate two anti-Israel student activists from the University of Michigan.

“It’s very disappointing to see Americans supporting Hamas and thinking that Hamas is a cool thing, while Hamas does not respect any of those followers,” Yousef said on the April 2 episode.

The Hamas defector said the bloodthirsty terrorists would “torture them and massacre them with no mercy.”

Yousef went on to explain how the militants refer to their American supporters as “useful idiots.”

Yousef, who defected to Israel in 1997 and became a spy for the Shin Bet intelligence agency, insisted that anti-Israel protesters “don’t know what they’re supporting.”

He called Hamas a “monster that has been hijacking an entire society and endangering the entire Middle East, pushing the world toward a global war.”

“What’s happening is insanity,” he continued. “Those pro-Palestine need to go to a mental asylum.”

Yousef said he knew what he was talking about because he spent time in prison with Hamas leaders.

“I was born there and part of that culture, part of that religion,” he explained.

“Some people hear about Hamas or they see an avatar of a Hamas fighter carrying a rifle, a ‘freedom fighter,’ and they think it’s a fancy idea to support such a monster.”

When Yousef then took part in a debate with University of Michigan students Salma and Zaynab, he accused them of wearing keffiyehs — traditional Palestinian scarves — to distract from the fact that they have no legitimacy to speak on behalf of the cause.

“On what authority do you speak?” he asked, rhetorically. “You only speak on the authority of Hamas propaganda.”

Zaynab interjected, asking why he believed she was simply reciting Hamas talking points.

“Because if you were a decent human being, you can say that the thousands who were killed on Oct. 7, that was a crime against humanity. It was a genocide,” Yousef shot back.

He went on to say that the student activists are proving that Hamas wants to completely destroy Israel.

“We have the problem with the pro-Palestine [people] who are actually giving Hamas cover. They are participating in the crime,” he told the young women.

“I think enough is enough, and now it’s proven — and you’re helping Hamas prove it to the world — that Palestine depends on the destruction of the state of Israel,” he continued.

“You cannot even condemn Hamas and say what they did on Oct. 7 was an act of a savage group.

“And this is not acceptable, and we are not going to agree to it. And I tell you something: For the next 10, 20 years, the Palestinian people will pay the bill that Hamas has caused and most likely in blood.”

Even Dr. Phil took aim at the student activists after they refused to say whether they condemned the terrorist attack.

“There are some things that are just fundamental human decency, and when I ask you if what happened on Oct. 7 is something you condemn, and you say, ‘Well, you have to look at that by looking at hundreds of years of conflict.’ No, you don’t,” the TV show host said. “That’s either right or it’s wrong — and I don’t need a hundred years of conflict to know it was wrong,” he said to raucous applause. “Let me tell you something,” Dr. Phil continued, “when someone comes over a fence and goes into someone’s house and burns their infant in its crib, I don’t give a damn why they did it — it’s wrong.”

[sandgraab]

frankly idrc about self-diagnosis or whatever like that’s not what this is about. but when you have 800 different hyper specific buzzword-esque labels rotating around you at all times it could not be more obvious that u are the type of (insufferable) creature to see a tiktok and instantly absorb any and all personality traits, good or bad, from it before scrolling to the next and doing the same thing over and over and over. yet another unforgivable instance of tiktok users Stealing Valor from 2013 tumblrinas btw. like it’s bad enough every other video is just ripped straight from a decade old tumblr post word for word, now they’re over there using a million specific terms to self-describe and they don’t even have the decency to be militant SJWs about any of it. they just say theyre a scorpius sun (aries moon by proxy), have a “justice sensitivity”, and a special interest in Environmentalism then they laugh react at an AI generated barstool sports video their friend sent them of a guy jaywalking then getting tasered by 16 cops at once and then the cops morph into kittens. Or babies. Or whatever. 😐

[kirabug-tumbles]

And we’re back with more decency

Last time I had time to write, I posted about Militant decency and what I’m doing. Today we’re back with more. You can’t help others if you can’t help yourself. Do you have a supply of water in your house in case you lost water? Do you have enough to cover some neighbors if it turns …

Continue reading "And we’re back with more decency"

[hero-israel]

The attack 100% will push Israeli society further right, further toward mistrust, trauma, and retribution. The attack will also 100% fail and have devastating repercussions for the people of Gaza. Maybe the Hamas losers know this, maybe they intended it to happen. A violent chaotic cathartic release with no real plan or attempt at achieving any kind of goals... were they that delusional? Did they think they would start the next Arab Israeli war and bring Israel down?

Or were they fully intending to fuel their own martyr complexes and to martyr hundreds of unwilling Palestinian civilians in a desperate attempt to make Israel lose the optics war? It's probably this one, and it only proves that they are LOSERS, they are sad pathetic losers and their greatest triumph is shooting grandmas and trying to capture Jewish sex slaves to prove what big manly men they are, while the women and children in their towns are being bombed to pieces. Disgusting pieces of shit.

But about that optics war... Mass executions and rapes and kidnappings by Hamas militants have done more to repair Israel's image in normal (I repeat and emphasize: NORMAL) people's eyes than any amount of sharing graphs and documents and educating people, or state sponsored tweets could ever have. This is the true Mask Off moment for Hamas and Gaza. Even antizionists are taking to social media to say "stop the violence innocent people are dying this is so bad we stand with the people of Israel." Like this is such an utter disaster for Gaza it boggles the mind how they greenlit this attack.

Like I truly think if Bibi orders a ground invasion most people aside from internet leftists and Arab nationalists would be alright with it. I hope he doesn't, I think a measured and careful response is crucial right now, but that's how badly Hamas fucked up whatever goodwill they had today.

It will push Israeli society further toward the right in terms of military / security crackdown and generally bleak attitudes towards coexistence with Palestinians (moreso). I would like very much to believe that Israelis will notice that the current government of right-wing channer trolls is totally talentless and lazy and that their incompetence and unnecessary cultural divisionism directly made possible this tragedy, and will then replace the right-wing channer trolls with right-wing skilled leaders. Note that by "right-wing skilled leaders" I no longer include Netanyahu, who should be as permanently discredited as the rest of them. The structure of Israeli electoral politics has let me down before, and I don't think Netanyahu has enough human decency to resign when he so blatantly ought to.

We are going to see something in Gaza that we haven't seen before; there is really no choice. I'm just not sure what that "something" will be.

I've seen several posters on Jewish Reddit argue for a full land invasion and lasting re-occupation of Gaza. This would be a Carter-Iranian-hostage-rescue level catastrophe. Gaza has been prepping for an Israeli land invasion for 15+ years, it is the basis of multiple Hamas and PIJ battle plans, we can assume every street and alley is boobytrapped and every window can hold an RPG launcher and every room can become a hostage site. Lasting military incursion with boots on the ground seems doomed to fail - and then if it succeeded it might be even worse, Israel would have to bleed its military and economic resources into managing the day-to-day lives of 2 million Palestinians. Of the options for eliminating Hamas, that would be the one that was worst for Israel in the immediate term, so it is the one I don't expect. Other options are terrible too, but less so for Israel itself.

To be very frank, I'd almost rather they skip Hamas and launch a decapitating strike on Iran directly. Terrible repercussions of course, but it avoids the usual script, the obvious boobytrap aspects, and puts a final "bookmark" on the threats that both Hamas and Hezbollah could represent.

[sharpsuite]

DRABBLE PROMPTS Topic: Chishiya's reaction to it turning out that Niragi's not dead after all! Surprise! For: @crue11

and its a bit long so it is going under the cut, but please enjoy 💖

   As a general rule of thumb, people typically have the decency to die when you burn them.

   Chishiya should have known better than to assume the typical when it came to Niragi. Somewhere deep down he might have suspected it wouldn’t be so easy. It would explain the lack of dramatic surprise in his chest when he realizes who has shot him. If there was anyone in his life who was going to be able to come back and haunt him, it would be Niragi. It wouldn’t surprise him if the militant crawled out of the pits of hell for that sole purpose. Chishiya stares at the shambling figure approaching with his usual inscrutable expression, hears the familiar voice roughened by damaged muscles and exhaustion. ( His fault. ) Niragi’s voice is remarkably strong all things considered. Chishiya has seen people in far better shape at the hospital need sedation to just get to sleep, let alone play at least one death game and continue to survive in this ruined world.

   Arisu has vanished from his attention and interest; he stares at Niragi with an unwavering intensity. He missed. Except Chishiya is confident that even with a gun other than his signature rifle, Niragi is a good enough shot that he wouldn’t have missed when the element of surprise was on his side. Not if he really tried. Not if he really wanted to. Which leaves the only option being that Niragi didn’t want to kill him with that shot. If their places were switched, Chishiya would have put a bullet in the skull of the man who burned him without a second of hesitation. Maybe that’s why Niragi burned and Chishiya was fine.  

   Maybe. Chishiya’s not so sure anymore. He wouldn’t have taken himself for the type of person to set someone on fire either. He tries to imagine their roles reversed; can’t. Can’t, because he was the one who pulled the trigger first. Can’t, because Chishiya never entirely forgotten his plan. Niragi wasn’t part of his scheme ; their time had been something separate for the most part. He was going to leave The Beach regardless. Can’t, because Chishiya’s self-defense had come in the form of a homemade flamethrower made to burn. These violent delights have violent ends. Can’t, because Chishiya had been too afraid to get any more attached – especially in the Borderlands. His pride doesn’t like that thought. Like somehow he was a coward who chose to run.

   “ You intentionally didn’t kill me with that shot. “ Chishiya calls out, blood staining his hoodie and fingers red as he applies pressure on the wound. It’s painful, but it’s far from crippling. It’s far from Chishiya’s violence. For everything that everyone’s ever said about Niragi being dangerous, at least his was typically a bullet to the brain or chest. Instant death. Chishiya had never doubted that he himself would kill with his own hands if push came to shove. It simply had never come to that point, so Chishiya didn’t need to know the depths of his own violence. Until that night that is. Chishiya had burned a man alive the moment he felt in real danger. Either the fire or the water should have killed him. Hearts games were all psychological. Chishiya didn’t lose games.

   He can practically imagine Niragi’s sneer to the thought and hear his voice in his head. Sure trying hard for someone who doesn’t give a fuck about dying. Which is true. It’s his need to win, pride and arrogance rivaling that of deities in folklore. His need to be at the top, safe and in control. Not vulnerable, not craving someone else’s company, not looking forward to banter or conversations. Being alone is his strength.

   Maybe Niragi didn’t shoot him because he wanted to torture him. Which is fair enough in Chishiya’s book. He can’t be upset over that. ( He could, any sane person would – he isn’t. He isn’t afraid of it either. ) Except that is proven wrong because Niragi is demanding to play about one last game between the three of them rather than just hurt Chishiya. He can’t help but listen and regrets it. Chishiya hates it, hates the way it feels like Niragi is peering into his soul and ripping out every truth that Chishiya denies himself. Even Arisu can’t do that regardless of similarities. But Niragi can and is. We’re oddballs who can’t fit into with society. We’re scum. Even so, our need to feel alive is greater than most people’s. All Chishiya can see is Niragi’s black eyes in the summer heat and he can feel something bristling in his chest the same way it had when he’d headed for the rooftop. Stop. He wants Niragi to stop talking, to stop forcing Chishiya to look at things he doesn’t want to. ( He’s right. Chishiya’s desire to feel alive, to find out some value in life, is an insatiable phantom that has haunted his whole life. He can play the part in society but the ugly truth is there that he doesn’t fit in. That they are all similar. )

  Silver flashes in the sunlight and Chishiya watches the gun land in the grass not too far from him. Niragi gives the man who burned him alive a gun. It’s that which makes a strange and unpleasant feeling root itself into the broken crevice of his chest. Niragi didn’t need to do that. Didn’t need to give Chishiya a chance, and he hates that he still knows Niragi to know that the gun will have bullets in it when he picks it up. Chishiya clenches his jaw. Since when did violence become kindness? Probably since Niragi kissed him first in the heart of a storm, violent and then desperate. It fits them well.

   Chishiya pushes himself up and makes his way to the gun without making any sign of pain.  The fact he is answering Niragi’s call at all rather than scoffing and trying to slip away says everything ; Chishiya typically prefers to not be involved in games until the end. Niragi won’t survive much longer in the shape he’s in. Chishiya did this to him. Ending it is the least he could do. Violence becoming kindness. Unfortunately, Chishiya’s not very good with guns. So maybe this is still a fancy way for Niragi to kill Chishiya despite how illogical it is. And there’s Arisu. Chishiya hates the weight and feeling of warm metal in his hand.

  “  I like it. “ Chishiya stares at Niragi head on when he finally comments on the proprosed idea. It’s the most fitting ending to this all. A silent acceptance of let’s play. Arisu’s asking if he’s insane and Chishiya can barely hold back a snort. Insane enough to play death games willingly and get entangled with Niragi, he’s not sure how much more insane one can get. Albeit Arisu only knows about one of those things; Niragi knows both.

   He’s not surprised when Niragi’s gun is leveled at him. It’s not the first time by a long shot. This time is different though. This time Niragi has every reason to pull the trigger when he never had before. So he expects it.

   It doesn’t happen. Niragi switches at the last second to shoot at Arisu instead of him and the sinking feeling starts to open again the same way it had when he watched Niragi’s surprised expression right before he burned. Like he hadn’t expected Chishiya to actually pull out a weapon and use it, like Niragi hadn’t had any intention to kill him on the rooftop despite his words, like Chishiya’s potentially misread this entire thing. Everything that Chishiya had decided to leave behind in the flames of the burning Beach comes back but he can’t think about it right now. He can’t really ignore it though either when Niragi’s words keep ripping into him.

   He really, really hates Niragi. Except he doesn’t, and somehow that’s so much worse.