#I will cherish their battle for a thousand years to come.

[hollowtones]

Experienced (and won!!!) my first 100x battle yesterday.

[librababe99]

The Wolverine's Heart

❥・CW: Old Man Logan, Female Reader, age gap, mentions of violence and past trauma, emotional vulnerability, sexual content, body worship  ❥・Word Count: 1649

Summary: Tonight you wanted to show Logan just how loved and cherished he is....

(Masterlist)

The small cabin, nestled deep within the wilderness, was far removed from the chaos of the world. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the steady rhythm of nature was the only sound that filled the air. The tall pines, their needles whispering secrets to the wind, surrounded the cabin like silent sentinels, guarding its solitude. Inside, the warmth from the crackling fire cast long shadows on the walls, dancing with a life of their own.

Logan sat in his worn leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he absently rolled it between his fingers, his mind a thousand miles away. The years had not been kind to him, and the burden of a life lived too long and too hard weighed heavily on his shoulders. His once rugged, indestructible frame now bore the marks of time—scars that never fully healed, a limp that never quite disappeared, and the ever-present ache in his bones.

But there was one thing that had kept him grounded in the face of it all—you. You had come into his life like a breath of fresh air, a balm for his soul. Despite the years that separated you, despite the scars that marred his body and the ghosts that haunted his past, you had seen something in him worth loving. And that love, gentle yet fierce, had slowly worked its way into the cracks of his heart, filling the empty spaces he thought would remain forever hollow.

You watched him from the doorway, the flickering firelight casting a soft glow on his weathered face. His eyes, though hardened by years of battle, held a depth of emotion that never failed to take your breath away. You had always admired the strength in him, the unyielding determination that kept him going even when the world seemed intent on breaking him. But tonight, as you stood there, you felt an overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to you, to worship every part of him that he so often dismissed as damaged or broken.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as his gaze met yours. “Yeah, darlin’?”

You crossed the room to where he sat, placing your hand on his shoulder. The heat from his skin seeped into your palm, grounding you in the moment. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a mixture of confusion and hesitation crossing his features. “You don’t have to do that, kid. I’m fine.”

You knelt beside him, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up at him with a determination that matched his own. “I know I don’t have to, Lo. But I want to. You’ve done so much for me, and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me do this.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he gave a slow nod, his rough exterior cracking just enough to let you in.

You rose to your feet and gently took the glass from his hand, setting it on the table beside him. Then, with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, you began to undress him. His flannel shirt, worn and frayed at the edges, slipped from his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, marred with countless scars. Each mark told a story—of battles fought, of losses endured, of a life that had been anything but easy.

Your fingers traced the lines of his scars, your touch light as a feather. “Every one of these is a reminder of how strong you are,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ve survived so much…You’ve lived through things that would have broken anyone else. But you’re still here, and I’m so grateful for that.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his breath hitched told you he was listening. You continued to undress him, your movements slow and deliberate, as if each piece of clothing you removed was a layer of armor he no longer needed to carry with you.

When he was finally bare before you, you took a step back to drink in the sight of him. His body, though weathered by time and hardship, was still a masterpiece in your eyes. The strength in his muscles, the resilience in his bones, the raw masculinity that seemed to emanate from him—all of it was beautiful to you.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “You’re beautiful, Logan,” you murmured against his skin. “Every part of you.”

A low rumble resonated deep in his chest, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His touch was firm, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “I want you to know how much I love you, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve given me so much, Lo Let me give you something back.”

You began to trail kisses across his chest, your lips worshiping every inch of him. You kissed each scar, each mark, each place where life had tried to break him and failed. And with each kiss, you felt him relax a little more, the tension slowly leaving his body as he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Your hands roamed over his body, exploring the hard planes of his muscles, the rough texture of his skin. You marveled at the way his body responded to your touch, the way his breath hitched when your fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. He was a man of few words, but his body spoke volumes, telling you everything you needed to know.

When you reached his abdomen, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him. His stomach, once taut and defined, now bore the softness that came with age. But to you, it was just another part of him to love, another part of him that made him who he was.

You pressed a kiss to his navel, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “You’re perfect to me, Logan. Every part of you is perfect.”

A low growl escaped him, and you felt his hand tighten in your hair. But it wasn’t a sound of anger or frustration—it was a sound of need, of desire, of a man who was slowly allowing himself to be loved in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

You continued your journey downward, your lips and hands worshiping every part of him as if he were something sacred. And to you, he was. He was your protector, your confidant, your lover. He was the man who had seen you at your worst and loved you anyway, the man who had stood by you through everything, even when he had every reason to walk away.

As you reached his thighs, you took a moment to admire the strength in them, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under your touch. You kissed the scars that marred his legs, the ones that told stories of battles fought and won. And then, with a reverence that took your breath away, you moved further, pressing a kiss to the most intimate part of him.

He let out a sharp breath, his hand still tangled in your hair as he fought to keep control. But you didn’t want him to hold back—not tonight. Tonight was about him, about showing him just how much he meant to you, about worshiping every part of him until he understood that he was worthy of love, that he was worthy of your love.

You took him into your mouth with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, your tongue tracing the contours of him. His taste was heady, intoxicating, and you reveled in the sounds he made as you pleasured him. The low growls, the sharp intakes of breath, the way his body tensed and relaxed under your touch—it was all a symphony to you, a symphony that played just for you.

You took your time, savoring each moment, each sensation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, could feel the way he was slowly losing the battle for control. But that was what you wanted. You wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure, to allow himself to be loved in the way he deserved.

And when he finally did, when he finally let go and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He came undone in your hands, his body shuddering with the force of his release, and you held him through it all, your touch gentle and loving as you brought him back down to earth.

When it was over, when the last tremors had subsided, you pulled him into your arms, holding him close as you whispered words of love and reassurance into his ear. He clung to you, his body still trembling slightly, and you could feel the way his heart pounded against his ribcage, could feel the way his breath came in shallow gasps.

But more than that, you could feel the way he had finally let down his walls, the way he had finally allowed himself to be loved without reservation, without fear. And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed! While this is technically a standalone fic, I do have a 2.7K story thats completely done (its smut 🤭 and definitely dives into some new territory for me compared to other work I've posted) so you could look at it as a continuation of this little "universe." I'm curious if y'all would want that later tonight or maybe tomorrow? I don't want to release anything to quickly😭 - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

[teyvat-inks]

ocean in your soul

a/n: hi, it’s sia! the intervals of my writings are getting longer, i’m so sorry HAHAHAH i guess it’s really hard to get into the mood for writing.. i am currently on my summer break from uni and i originally planned to write a few ficlets before the semester starts but i ended up learning bass guitar instead :D i am not sure if i can write regularly but i’ll try heh anyway, this one’s inspired by impossible by nothing but thieves. see you next time!

content: nobleman!kamisato ayato x gn!reader. fluff. sinking and oceans but nothing extremely detailed. 1.5k wc.

kamisato ayato is an enigma despite being a man of prestige; he is known for his seldom public appearance, thus earning quite a reputation among the other nobles. he only attended events of utmost importance as he has been a constant subject of assassinations eversince and the few times he presented himself proved that he is capable of gathering crowds especially those who are intrigued by his persona. albeit his lack of presence, people sure love to bring up his name whenever and wherever they can. many speak of high praises and some whisper deceit, but the man himself could care any less about such trivial matters. regardless, those who worked with him already knew his diligence moreso his competence, and doing his job properly comes second to his priorities—the first one ensuring his family’s safety.

ayato can continue ignoring the speculations behind his back, or so he thinks.

many of his beliefs crumble down whenever he thinks of you. he wishes you would pay no mind to the rumors circulating around and would rather come directly to him for truth. he is a man of forthrightness except when you’re around. maybe, just maybe, he’s actually a lot more human than he thinks he is.

he used to believe that he would be devoting himself to his family and duties only, but you came to the scene unexpectedly. he thought that he could face anything that comes before him. he expected that he could easily swim out of the pool he was pushed into, instead, finding himself drowning in an ocean of you.

he loves the way your eyes glisten naturally like a pool of stars twinkling altogether. your smile makes his day a thousand times better. whenever he hears your laughter, he thinks that a year is added to his lifespan. he thinks that can spend a day on battle of wits and exchange ingenious banters with you. being the opposite and preferring to stay out of the public gaze—he is most fascinated by the way you uphold yourself everytime in public; being absent does not make him completely oblivious to you being the talk of the town. ayato is no match for the glory of your waves; crashing to the ship he hid himself away from the skies of observing eyes. and he thinks, how could a human be as deep and as dreamy as yourself?

he does not particularly enjoy small talks as he is often occupied with neverending duties as a public servant, but if it’s you, he can share a bit of a moment of the little time he has for himself. he also cherishes the tiny catch-ups when the two of you happen to bump into each other on a busy day.

ayato feels he can no longer handle the turbulence you caused in his life. he can no longer fight against the currents. he thinks that maybe he might just let the water enter his ship and let it sink. he does not mind anymore. not after hearing yet another marriage proposal turned down by you. ayato cannot allow any other noble to see how deep the ocean can be before he sees it for himself. he would rather keep you all to himself afterall. so he decides to get down on one knee before you and stop doubting himself.

he starts trembling the moment he arrives at your palace. he flashes a courteous smile to your servants and knights as if nothing, telling them not to announce his arrival. he continues to rehearse the lines he practiced last night as he take long strides toward your office. what is he going to do if you refuse? will his voice crack? unable to hide how scared he actually is? will he be unable to take a step to leave your office? will he get down on both knees and beg for your saccharine yes?

the thoughts immediately stop upon reaching the front of your office door. this is now or never. he takes a deep breath before knocking and exhales the moment he hears your voice.

“you may enter.”

ayato is welcomed by the most dazzling smile he’s ever seen in his life, he almost got blinded by how bright it was.

“oh. it’s you, lord kamisato.” you motion to him to take a seat as you finish signing one of the documents on your desk, “why must the great lord grace me with his presence in surprise? this ought to be something of utmost importance, am i right?”

“greetings, i apologize for coming unannounced. it is rather urgent, i believe that this is better discussed in person rather than in papers.” ayato chuckles. he carefully watches your every move—from putting the pen down to taking the seat in front of him.

“ah, pardon. let me call my butler first, my lord.” you are about to stand up but ayato’s hand grabs your arm hastily. you feel the warmth of his hand despite the gloves he is wearing. he is supposed to have his hands cold and sweaty but somehow it’s the opposite.

“no!” he mentally curses himself for being all over the place, “i meant, there is no need for tea. and for archon’s sake, drop the formalities.”

“is that so...”

“yes.” ayato is getting jittery as seconds pass.

he isn’t speaking, however his gaze is fixed on you. it’s making you nervous, as if he bears bad news. “ayato?” the way you speak his name is soft but enough to get him out of his trance.

“right. my apologies.” he chuckles dryly.

“are you alright? is this a heavy matter?” your brows furrow.

“yes. this is a heavy matter.” ayato breathes out. this is the first time you witness him this distressed. you do not make an effort to hide the worried expression creeping on your face upon hearing his words. your mind suddenly gets engulfed by questions you are unable to ask him.

“please proceed immediately ayato. i’m getting nervous.” you tell him impatiently.

ayato takes a deep breath to release some tension in his body. he cannot hide his pathetic side anymore but this must go on. he clears his throat and he feels the adrenaline rushing in his veins as he opens his mouth to speak.

“marry me.”

ayato jumps into the ocean.

no way he rehearsed over and over for him to completely go out of script. he flinches from the way his voice sounded, skin crawling from the tone he spoke. he watches your expression morphing into something he cannot decipher.

“i-” ayato is cut off by you.

you sigh in relief, “finally.”

“what?” he is caught completely off-guard. “did i hear that right?”

“i said, i am honored to have your offer, my lord,” you feign innocence, “despite making me all nervous as hell.”

“no, i think i heard you say something before that.”

“you definitely did not.” your eyes flash a hint of mischief, something ayato cannot ignore.

“were you truly waiting for my proposal? is that why you keep on refusing all this time?” ayato sounds genuinely curious it infuriates you.

“what makes you think that?” you utter with a firm voice.

he looks so dejected by your words, mouth agape. you cannot fathom how much power and effect you have on him right now. it is scary. ayato is not one to directly express displeasure through his face. he always keeps his composure and this situation makes you think that you are in a dream.

“forgive me for playing you like that, ayato. you’re never wrong anyway. truth is i was already preparing myself to grow stiff and stuttering alone, never thought this day will actually come.” ayato notices how your gaze softens, “i’m glad you asked.”

ayato feels the cold air slap his hands. he searches the carriage for his gloves to no avail. he realizes he must have forgotten it in your office. he sighs in disappointment. how can he forget his belongings just like that? he notices something glisten from his finger.

a piece of shiny metal sitting on his ring finger.

the rest of the talk is hazy, ayato is unable to recall how he wore the ring. his heightened emotions earlier caused him to lose focus on the situation, he knows one thing nevertheless.

you are now engaged. with him. that is all that matters. anything else can come after he gets home and rest for the day. he did not get a wink of sleep anyway.

ayato feels the water engulf him whole; he is slowly sinking to your ocean. he lets the water pull him down until he can no longer see the light from the midnight zone, sinking deeper and deeper down towards the abyss. and he does not mind any of it all.

ayato thinks he could drown himself in someone like you, he could dive so deep he can never come out.

he thought it was impossible, but you made it possible.

[osovereign]

☆ — iniquitousideals

“So, you’ve finally decided to come crawling back to me,” Mithos advances toward Kratos slowly and -- given some time -- begins to circle him as a predator would its prey. Well, that wasn’t far off from the truth, was it? He despised humans, and the more Kratos was to hurt him, the closer he was to being thrown in with the lot of them. To never being trusted. To being despised. Once that was done, there was no going back. It’s odd, as much as it had been claimed that he hated Kratos all this time, it still wasn’t the truth. He still held on to the tiniest shred of hope. One day, Kratos would believe in him. One day, he would stay. He would be his teacher again. He would be his father. He would believe in him. “what happened this time? Did you not find what you were looking for? I’m beginning to think you enjoy toying with me, Kratos.”

❝ mithos i  ,   ❜ he needs to micromanage his words, kratos knew the consequences of having a tongue with to much bark and bite. the mannerisms of his first greatest delight, of his first greatest pride  and failure! circled him as a hunter did prey, as the strong did the weak. if tasked kratos could never stop writing aselia’s greatest epic about how its greatest savior became its villain, of how the supposed most holy city was filled with wild wicked creatures who resembled more daemon than human  he most of all. those whom lied as if it was a second skin upon their lips, a natural occurrence as telling the truth was to others.

even this age old man was akin to selling falsehoods as absolutes. talk about yourself, mask it as another. grasp death inside the grave you dug on-top your living corpse and watch as you fall deeper into your own darkness.  mentally, physically, emotionally, and perhaps some other fourth thing the half-elf kratos met, befriended, and cherished from four thousand years ago still lived buried underneath an aeons worth of distaste and hatred. lying had gotten him nowhere though. he needed to try a new approach, he wanted to do things differently this time. maybe... just maybe the wrongs of yesterday could be corrected and his makeshift found family could coexist with his blood. he needed it, desired it. craved it.  

his strides ever confident, ever intimidating, ever fluid. he drops to his knees not far off from the blond man and absentmindedly fiddles with the sheath of his sword. physically, kratos made himself smaller but his spirit was that of a warrior, of a hero of yore. was it crawling back if he just wanted a piece of his heart back? it was not enough to follow another’s idealism and belief’s without question. he had learned this lesson the hard way ( full forced / full fledged genocide ): was it better to deceive or be deceived? he knew the answer, it didn’t even need to leave his lips.

❛     what i seek has long been found. i am simply trying to pick up the pieces as best a mere man can..   ❜ truth. honestly. even if it killed him, even if it led to the same conclusion. kratos would not know unless he tried and fuck, did this self loathing angel want to fucking try. ❛ stars could explode, aselia could cease to exist, and i may never correct all of my mistakes--  ❜ he pauses. licking his lips, palms digging crescent indents into his fists. ❛ but you, mithos: will never be a mistake to me. my most precious student, my friend. my first son. ❜

the last words spoken on his tongue as a silent broken prayer. they’d had this talk a thousand times before. some ending in battle, all ending in seemingly betrayal. sometimes with yuan, but usually alone. if a higher being did exist and not one crafted of his own two hands then kratos had but one desire of it, one wish, one prayer: give him their happiness back.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Address by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy on the Day of Ukrainian Statehood

On July 8, a Russian missile struck Kyiv. A direct hit.

The Kh-101 cruise missile.

It was designed to hit significant military targets. Putin hit a children's hospital with it.

“Okhmatdyt.”

One of hundreds of Ukrainian hospitals that have been, unfortunately, destroyed by Russian missiles, bombs, artillery.

From “Okhmatdyt,” the world saw thousands of photos and videos. Of what happened. And how Ukrainians united.

They saw how Ukraine is being targeted for destruction. And how, despite everything, Ukraine withstands the attacks.

How it unites the world to protect life. And how the world is inspired by what Ukraine achieves.

Here, as in thousands of similar places, Ukraine has shown itself to be the nation we are all proud of.

The nation we fight for.

Which is pure in heart and strongest when we all care for each other and when we see each other as our own.

And when we all are not afraid to defend Ukraine.

This is the Ukraine that has been preserving itself through the centuries – no matter what happens.

And no matter what invaders come to our land, Ukraine always finds the strength not only to endure but also to preserve within itself what separates us from evil.

Dear Ukrainians!

We are fighting against a terrible enemy. One that cannot be called human. And one that is infinitely far from true Christianity.

Its essence is ruins. The death it brings. And which we must overcome.

Ukraine cannot agree to anything less than to live. Anything less than to preserve itself. Anything less than to remain human.

Ukraine will not succumb to the evil that sheds blood for its own sick self-assertion. That despises truth, both human and divine, and devalues everyone except itself.

Russia builds its statehood precisely on this.

But we are different.

The history of Ukrainians on this land goes back more than a thousand years.

And no matter what strangers came here, no matter who did everything to prevent Ukraine from being itself, they did not break our people and the spirit of this land. They did not break what makes us Ukraine.

I want to thank everyone who came to “Okhmatdyt” after this strike. And everyone who rescues people after each similar crime by Russia.

To all who helped clear the rubble. Who acted to save children. And to everyone who empathized. Who told the world what was happening.

And I thank everyone in the world who did not stay silent and who seeks solutions to support our defense of life. Who helps our air defense, who supports our soldiers with weapons, who ensures pressure on Russiafor all its evil.

And who does so every time it is necessary to prove that life is stronger than its enemy.

Ukrainians!

I thank you for being true to yourselves, to our goal, to our state.

To our values, which will undoubtedly endure, as they are already rooted in centuries.

They have their roots in Kyivan Rus, continuation in the Cossack state, and their living force today – the force of Ukraine, which is doing the greatest and most important things in its history.

This is Ukraine, which not only defends itself but also unites many others in the defense of life.

Which is proud of its people, and whose heroism is honored by the world.

This is Ukraine, whose flag – our cherished blue and yellow colors – is welcome wherever courage is truly valued. And our trident – our majestic emblem inherited from ancient princes – is seen on chevrons, T-shirts, and even as tattoos.

These are the symbols by which we recognize our fellow Ukrainians anywhere. And these are the emotions that unite us when we hear the sound of Ukraine.

And these are our achievements, which were not given by anyone, but brought by all of us for Ukraine.

All this is our country.

Today, on the Day of Ukrainian Statehood, on the Day of the Baptism of Kyivan Rus’-Ukraine, we remember the path that Ukraine has overcome, and we are fully focused on the battle that Ukraine must win.

This battle is for our independence. So that this independence can be inherited by future generations. Inherited, not fought for. So that we can give them pride in Ukraine, not its pain.

And so that no more "Putins" dare to bring ruins and suffering here.

We are already separated from this enemy by our spirit.

And we must do everything to ensure that our national border with them becomes a true boundary between our world, which is inseparable from the global world, and those who seek to destroy us.

We must defeat this evil, and Ukraine will do it.

There will always be Ukraine here. Our history. Our people. Our state.

Congratulations on the Day of Ukrainian Statehood! And I thank everyone who stands with Ukraine!

Glory to our people! Glory to Ukraine!

[wondersandwhispers]

Echoes of My Heart

"Life is a roller-coaster ride", often heard, often felt, but never with the intensity of these past two years! It's strange how we humans start appreciating life and the little things around us mostly when we hit rock bottom. Until then, we grind away, taking life for granted.

In these moments, life teaches you that how sometimes you feel everything all at once and sometimes you feel nothing at all. Some days you possess the strength of a thousand suns while on others you barely want to lift yourself out of bed. This emotional turbulence brings a profound realisation, the battle isn't just personal, it ripples out, touching everyone around you. It's in these times of trial that you come to value the real people in your life—friends, family, even those you might not have considered close before and ohh some most awaited reconnections. Their support, their presence, makes the journey a little more bearable. Their strength becomes yours, helping you navigate the stormy seas of uncertainty.

Quite uncanny how strangers too play their part. The kind words from a coworker, their understanding of your circumstances, the understanding smile from someone in passing, they add value to your days, reminding you that you're not alone in this struggle. These seemingly small gestures become monumental in their impact, each one a reminder that the world is filled with unexpected allies, each contributing a small piece to your puzzle of resilience. The connections we form, often fleeting and spontaneous, become lifelines, anchoring us when we feel adrift.

Acceptance of reality becomes crucial. The more you resist, the harder it becomes to move forward. Accepting doesn't mean giving up, it means acknowledging the truth of your situation and finding ways to navigate through it. This acceptance brings a certain peace, a stillness amid the chaos, allowing you to focus on what truly matters. Alongside acceptance, hope remains a steadfast companion. It’s the flicker of light in the darkest times, the whisper of possibility that keeps you going. Hope fuels your perseverance, reminding you that even in the face of adversity, there is a path forward. Trust me when I say that acceptance and hope is what helps you figure out your normal, when nothing seems normal around !

This journey teaches you to live in the present, to find joy in the simplest moments and to hold on to the people who lift you up. It's a journey of highs and lows, strength and vulnerability, but most importantly, it's a journey of profound human connection. Through it all you learn to cherish life, not just the grand milestones, but the quiet, everyday miracles that make it worth living. You come to understand that life is not just about enduring the storm but also about finding beauty in the raindrops and strength in the struggle.

Grieving and letting out your emotions is an essential part of this journey. It’s important to allow yourself to feel the pain, the sadness, and the frustration. Today I am writing to process these emotions, to give them a voice and a space to exist. On other days the outlet may vary but that outlet is damn vital ! It helps to release the weight you carry, to acknowledge your feelings, and to begin healing.

Reflecting on the past(before these two years), there were days when it felt like nothing was working out and every effort seemed to lead to disappointment. I missed out on certain opportunities and faced setbacks that made it hard to see any progress. Now, I understand that those struggles were actually preparing me for what I’m facing today. Each challenge, every disappointment built up a resilience and strength that I rely on now. Those tough times weren’t for nothing, they were shaping me for the journey I’m on now.What seemed like failures at the time now make sense. They allowed me to be where I needed to be and gave me the ability to handle the current situation. The way things have turned out, with new opportunities and support that fits perfectly into my life, feels like a confirmation that even the hardest moments have a purpose.

The past two years have reshaped my perspective, revealing the extraordinary in the ordinary and the depth of human compassion and how somehow it all just fits. It's a roller-coaster ride, indeed, but one that teaches invaluable lessons about love, acceptance, hope, and the preciousness of each moment. Embracing both the highs and lows and finding ways to express and cope with the emotions that come with them, is what makes this journey uniquely human and profoundly meaningful.

Here, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has supported us in any way. Your words, your efforts, and your love, from the simplest gestures to the most intense acts of kindness mean the world to us. We are truly grateful and deeply touched. You know who you are :)

[xoxo-mei]

What About Me? - An Eddie Munson x Reader Oneshot

For years, I've been asking myself the question: What about me?

Why can't he look at me in the way he looks at her? Why can't he feel his heart racing around me like it does around her?

You can guess, I never really got the answers to those questions. Mostly because I never said them out loud. I know that when I ask those questions and I hear the answers I expect to hear from him, my world would crumble.

My heart would shatter into a thousand pieces, too small to put back together again.

And I'm certain I'm not ready for that. I just need to pretend like he doesn't matter to me. But, it's harder than I expected.

Because no matter what, my mind returns to memories we made, my thoughts circle back to his smile and the only thing I see when I'm asleep is the twinkle in his eyes when he's playing his favorite Iron Maiden record.

''Earth to Y/N?'' I blinked and adjusted to the sight of Eddie waving his hand in front of my face. I felt my cheeks heat up, and I smiled apologetically.

''Sorry.''

He shook his head, a grin on his face, ''It doesn't matter. For a second I thought you were brain dead.''

My eyes squinted, a smile on my face that seemed more genuine than the one I previously showed him, ''That was your first assumption?''

''Well, yeah.''

A chuckle escaped from my lips. These are the moments I cherish. Just the two of us, together, making fun of the small things, him making me smile.

Eddie turned his head around to the sound of footsteps and when I saw the sheepish smile appear on his face I didn't need to look to know who it was.

''Chrissy, I was wondering when you were getting here?''

''I'm sorry,'' she apologized, still dressed in our high school's cheer uniform, ''my boyfriend didn't let me go, and then I couldn't find the way here-''

''I'm heading off.'' I interrupted her, the joy gone from my eyes. With one hand I swung my backpack over my shoulder and with the other I grabbed my music.

I wasn't going to sit around and watch this go down.

Eddie frowned at me, confused to why I was suddenly leaving. ''But we were going to hang out.''

''Maybe later,'' I smiled, but it didn't quite reach my eyes, ''I'll talk to you later.''

He nodded, but I didn't see it because I was already walking away, tears brimming in my eyes as I remembered the way his eyes twinkled when he saw her approaching.

He never had that with me.

-

The hour of witching - which is 3 AM, if nobody knew - was coming around the corner and I was still perched on my bed with assignment papers scattered all around me.

I had some debate things to settle, and then I had this paper on Napoleon and the battles he led. Followed by a boring lecture which I had to make notes on and mark everything I thought was important around 30 pages.

You thought you would get a break eventually, but our high school didn't know that we had a personal life. Alice Cooper was heard on my phono, his voice the only thing that was heard in my room.

So, when some knocking on my window arrived, I noticed. I frowned, placed the papers away and walked to the window, not noticing my current attire. Something within me was so certain no one was going to visit, that I was wearing only an AC/DC tour shirt with shorts, but you couldn't see them under the oversized shirt.

Imagine my surprise when I saw Eddie standing there with a plastic bag in his hand. From what I could see they were filled to the brim with my favorite snacks.

I reached out, unlocked the window and widened it enough for him to step through. I helped him out and quickly closed the window silently.

''What are you doing here,'' I asked, ''my parents are going to come home any second.''

''They aren't home?''

I sighed, ''It's date night. And when it's date night, they tend to stay up till the early hours. 'We can party like we used to even though we are old', they usually say.''

He chuckled and sat down on my bed, reaching out paper by paper to inspect what I was doing.

''Damn, I forgot how much we had to do.''

''It wouldn't be that much if you made it for a change.'' I retorted.

A grin came onto his face, ''Good to see you have your sense of humor, still.''

''Why wouldn't I?'' I crossed my arm and sat down on the windowsill, curious to why he was here.

He shrugged, grabbing a beer and opening it, ''I don't know. You left quite abruptly this afternoon.''

''You were with someone else.''

''I was also there with you, Y/N,'' he took a sip and looked at me intently, ''when are you going to tell me what is wrong?''

''You never said you wanted to know-''

''I made that obvious,'' he threw me a beer, ''sit down, take a sip and spill your guts. I'm asking now.''

I sighed.

This was bound to happen sooner or later.

I got the top of the beer off and took a long sip, feeling the bitter taste slide down my throat. Guess it's time for the truth.

My bed gave way when I sat down beside him. Here goes nothing.

''What do you think about Chrissy?''

Eddie stared at the ceiling of my bedroom as he racked his head about the question, ''I like her. Though, I do think she has an awful taste is men.''

''And, what about me?''

His head turned to me in confusion, clearly not realizing what I was getting at, ''What about you?''

He repeated the question as if it was going to make sense the second time. I just stayed quiet, letting him think.

Eddie took a deep breath and thought for a second, ''I-I don't know. Obviously I like you. Otherwise we wouldn't be friends.''

''But do you look at me the way you look at her?''

The confusion was still evident on his face, but as the minutes passed by, the realization dawned on him.

His lips parted, searching for the right words. Probably to reject me, if you ask me. But no matter what I thought, he didn't say them with his own words.

I was afraid I broke him, or something, like a faulty error on an out-dated server.

''Eddie?''

''Are you..,'' he cleared his throat, as if it was going to sound him less surprised, ''are you saying what I think you are saying?''

I turned my eyes away from him to the bag. My hands rummaged through the contents, and a smile appeared on my face when I saw my favorite movie in there.

I pulled it out and stared at it, before showing it at him with amusement in my eyes, ''Did you bring Top Gun?''

''Uhm,'' he was caught off-guard, I think by the subject change more than anything else, ''yeah. I remember you saying you liked it and couldn't watch it in the cinema with me, so I thought we could watch it... together.''

I couldn't help it. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, my heart skipping a beat. Eddie didn't have to do anything and he would trigger the butterflies in my stomach, but when he did something kind or thoughtful, like this, it was twice as bad.

I stood up and placed it into the DVD player, my small little TV lighting up alive.

''Y/N,'' Eddie sighed, ''you're doing it again.''

I was busy trying to make the movie work, ''Busy doing what?''

''Changing the subject. Pretending as if nothing is going on and avoiding the matter that so clearly needs to be discussed.''

I froze.

I was doing that again.

A sigh escaped my lips as I lowered my hands, taking my time before I turned around, forcing myself to face it.

''You're right.''

''So, can we talk about it?''

''Yeah, sure,'' I crossed my arms and sat down at the end of the bed, waiting for him to talk, ''just say it, please.''

It seemed like an eternity before he dared to speak again.

''First of all, I need you to tell me what you haven't been saying for quite some while, because my head is reeling with possibilities. It needs to be less vague-''

He didn't need to say more as I interrupted him with the inevitable truth, ''I love you.''

He froze. His eyes searched for mine, but I didn't dare to look him in the eyes. Not now. Not when I don't know whether he accepts it or not. Not when I don't know how he feels.

''You love me?''

He questioned, repeating what I said once more. I sighed and nodded, still not looking him in the eyes. This was painfully awkward.

''That's what you weren't saying?''

Didn't he understand the matter that was being discussed right now?! Why does he have to make it so difficult?!

I was panicking on the inside, my mind running back and forth between assumptions of what he was thinking or wanting to say.

A smile appeared on his face, ''I was waiting for you to admit it.''

I was about to jump in the defense as to why he has to forget this ever had taken place, but then the realization hit me. He didn't reject me. The opposite, actually.

My eyes finally met his and I saw the cheerful face that I fell in love with. It's like the day he got tickets to see Alice Cooper live.

''You aren't... You aren't rejecting me?''

''No, not really. Did you think I was?''

I shrugged, feeling my heart fill with warmth, ''I was assuming you were, yeah.''

''God,'' he laughed, his head falling back before he looked me in the face again, ''this is what was wrong?''

''Uh,'' I didn't understand why he was being so, so... normal, ''yeah...''

He grabbed my hands and scooted closer to me, neither of us caring about the papers, ''You don't know how long I was waiting for you to finally say that. I was about to give up on it, matter of fact.''

''So, you feel the same?''

''God, didn't you ever notice,'' I shook my head in reply, ''I give you notes every day, I'm right outside your classroom whenever I am closeby, I always sit next to you during our annual Dungeons and Dragons meetings. Should I go on?''

''I can't believe it.'' My mind was reeling.

But the joy I was feeling could never be replaced.

We sat there, staring at each other when I heard a car on the driveway. ''Shit, my parents are home.'' We started panicking as we cleaned up the groceries and such. I leant down to gather the fallen papers and he removed the DVD, before stuffing it back in the paperbag.

The front door opened.

''You need to go out of the window.''

''How romantic of you, Y/N.'' I rolled my eyes at him and just ushered him to the window. I opened it back open and watched my parents enter before I let Eddie step outside. I was expecting him to go and I was about to close the window when his hand on mine stopped me dead in my tracks.

My face turned to him and I was surprised to feel his soft lips on mine. He was kissing me.

I have my first kiss with Eddie Munson.

I returned the kiss, but he pulled away already. With a grin on his face, he spoke up in whispers, ''We'll continue this soon, and, Y/N?''

I hummed in response, wanting him to hurry up before my dad catches him.

''The next time it'll be a date.''

My heart fluttered as I stared at his leaving figure.

I only looked away when he was out of sight, out of my neighborhood. I closed the window and jumped when the door to my room opened.

''Are you still awake, honey?''

''Yeah, just finishing some homework. I'll go to bed in a minute.''

''Okay, good,'' my mother smiled at me, my father behind her with a caring hand on her shoulder smiling at me, ''then we'll leave you to it. Don't stay up too late.''

I smiled at her, ''I won't.''

The door closed again and I let out a sigh of relief. That was a close one. But then his final words came back to me.

''The next time it'll be a date.''

I went to bed just five minutes after, reliving the kiss we had every night and excitement for our official first date.

-

-

-

Words: 2,1K

[dhaaruni]

Lincoln had come to believe that the Civil War might well be a divine punishment—a millstone—for a national sin. The president hoped the strife would soon be over, and the battle won. “Yet,” Lincoln said, “if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, ‘the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether.’ ” To Frederick Douglass, “these solemn words…struck me at the time, and have seemed to me ever since to contain more vital substance than I have ever seen compressed in a space so narrow.” Lincoln’s point was a startling one from an American president: God was exacting blood vengeance for the sin of human enslavement in a specific place and a specific time—in the United States of America in the mid-nineteenth century. This was not routine political rhetoric. In the Second Inaugural Address, Lincoln was affirming a vision of history as understood in the Bible: that there was a beginning, and there will be an end. In the meantime, the only means available to a nation “under God” to prosper was to seek to follow the commandments of that God. The alternative? Chaos and the reign of appetite without restriction and without peace. Lincoln once said that “the author of our being, whether called God or Nature (it mattered little which), would deal very mercifully with poor erring humanity in the other, and, he hoped, better world.” Until then, “poor erring humanity” was charged with making its words and work acceptable in the sight of a God who had enjoined humankind to love one another as they would be loved. That is where Lincoln left the matter in his peroration on Saturday, March 4. “With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan—to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations.”

— And There Was Light: Abraham Lincoln and the American Struggle by Jon Meacham

[blackjackkent]

The battle to free Halsin went quite well! We intercepted the goblins who were trying to escape the area, which would have lit up the whole temple against us, and no one took a ton of damage.

My favorite part was when Halsin slipped and completely ate shit on the ice left by Gale's Ray of Frost and Gale kind of stood there and stared at him:

Everyone's making super tired noises, so the plan is to get Halsin out as quickly and quietly as possible and then make camp on the road.

Time to have a chat with Mr. Bear.

As Hector approaches him, the bear's form shifts and twists, resolving itself slowly into the most massive elf Hector has ever seen.

Halsin stands at least a head over Hector's six feet, a broad-shouldered and thick-muscled stone wall of a man. His face is scarred, bearing the record of a thousand fights, but he looks down at the group of his rescuers with an air of benevolence, and his voice is kind as he dusts himself off.

"Pardon the viscera. One should cherish all of nature's bounty...but goblin guts are quite far down on the list." He grins crookedly at Hector. "You aided a bear without knowing if it would savage you? A true friend of nature - or perhaps a lunatic." He inclines his head slowly. "Either way, I owe thanks. I am the druid Halsin."

Hector squints at him. "You're Halsin - the Master Halsin of the Emerald Grove?"

Halsin smiles. "Yes, but just Halsin will suffice. Unbecoming to demand honorifics from the one who saved my hide."

"I've been to the Emerald Grove. It's in danger." The words spill out of Hector perhaps a little too quickly. He desperately wants to be gone from this place, to impress upon Halsin the urgency of leaving as soon as possible.

His words elicit a frown from Halsin, but no surprise. "I am aware," he says sadly. "I foolishly left it vulnerable to this rabble. There's work to be done." He hesitates, then looks more closely at Hector and the others. His frown deepens sharply. "Hrm. That look in your eyes. I've seen it before. Are you feeling all right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he lifts a hand and sends a burst of golden energy surging over Hector, closing his eyes as if listening for something only he can hear.

When he lets his hand fall and the light fade, he looks grim.

"Oak Father preserve you, child... You're infected, aren't you? The mind flayers' spawn..."

It has been, at the very least, twenty years since anyone referred to Hector as 'child' - but it reminds him of the elders at the monastery, the affection and concern of those who were not his parents and yet were his family. Hector feels something loosen in his chest with relief, and he nods wearily.

Halsin is still watching him thoughtfully. "But...something's different. You're aware of the monster inside you. You don't bow to the Absolute, like the True Souls do. How is this possible...?"

He begins to circle the group slowly, examining them from all sides.

"I escaped from an illithid ship after being infected," Hector says. "Maybe the process was interrupted."

Halsin grunts pensively. "Perhaps. But I wouldn't want to place all my faith in blind luck. It's no coincidence that you found me here, I'll wager? You're after a cure for the parasite."

Again a silent nod from Hector, and this time he can't hide the plea for assistance in his eyes. Halsin sighs. "I've been studying these parasites for a while now. Ever since I discovered these so-called True Souls are infected with them. Someone is using very powerful magic to modify these tadpoles. They are using them to exert control over the infected." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry to say, I can't undo that magic, which means I can't cure you." He sees Hector's gaze sink, and adds gently, "But that doesn't mean I can't help."

He looks around at the battered bodies of the dead goblins. "I didn't find what I came here for - a way to remove the tadpoles - but I found the next best thing. I found out where they come from. That must be where these enchantments are placed on them, and it's where you'll find your cure."

Hector straightens a little, hope flaring in him again. So far, Halsin seems to know the most of anyone they've talked to about exactly what they're up against. "Tell me what you've learned about the tadpoles' origins."

"I overheard that the cultists are sending all of their captives to Moonrise Towers. Innocents go in, True Souls come out. Given that all of these True Souls are infected, it has to be the source of this magic." Halsin snuffs out a breath in a manner reminiscent of the bear he just was, and looks at Hector intently. "If you want to find a cure, you must head there and discover how the tadpoles are being manipulated."

Hector nods slowly. This tracks with what he heard from the Zhent trader outside, and it's a plan, the clearest they've had so far. "You seem to know a lot about this," he says hopefully. "Will you come with me to Moonrise?"

Halsin shakes his head. "I wish I could, but there's still work I"ve yet to finish." His eyes harden, a flicker of the beast behind the placid exterior. "Blood I've yet to spill." He hesitates, then goes on, looking between his four rescuers. "I've no right to ask more of you, but if you could help me...I'd be free to join your journey to Moonrise. I cannot allow these butchers to threaten my grove. The natural order must be preserved."

Hector seizes on this eagerly. He wanted to help the grove anyway and wasn't really interested in leaving until that situation was dealt with - and Halsin is seeming like a more useful traveling companion all the time. "All right," he says. "How do I help?"

Halsin seems to relax, and a smile flicks across his face. "My thanks. If you prevail, I'll owe you the debt of a lifetime." He glances towards the door leading to the upper floors. "Rare is the beast that survives decapitation. Help me eliminate the drow Minthara, the hobgoblin Dror Ragzlin, and that perversion of a priestess, Gut. They are the ones holding these parasites together. Remove them and nature will cure itself."

Hector grimaces thoughtfully. He has seen all three of these people, but none of them are alone in a scenario where killing them individually seems likely. For all their caution earlier, it feels like open battle may be the only option, if destroying those three is the goal. "Having a shapeshifting bear-druid at my side might make things easier."

Halsin smiles ruefully. "Be warned. My presence could make things much more difficult. I can only restrain my bear form so much. I won't be able to help but attack goblins." He shakes his head. "If I join you, we'll likely have to slaughter this entire place. You may want to use discretion when approaching the goblin leaders."

That gives Hector some pause. He doesn't relish the idea of fighting the whole place, and maybe there is a chance of tricking all three leaders individually. On the other hand...he has neither skill nor inclination for deception (particularly trickery with the parasite, which seems the most effective option, but his skin is still crawling from the last attempt with Ragzlin), and it's just as likely to lead to a straight fight anyway if he fails - and Halsin would be a strong asset to have in that case.

And...this is a temple of Selune. A place so like his home. These blasphemous things should be driven out of it.

He draws a slow breath and lets it out. "Come with me," he says firmly.

Halsin inclines his head, moments before the bear transformation begins to take hold of him again.

"So be it. May Silvanus lend us nature's fury."

[amiharana]

Lmao what’s the lore of csmp

me personally i think it would be based off canon botw events with slight changes here and there, and i kinda like the idea of them using something similar to the origins mod from the originsmp? that way it honors their original races in the game, e.g. revali's character would be avian or elytrian, daruk could be blazeborn or shulker maybe, etc

the CSMP server is created when the champions decide to collab after love or host and play minecraft together with the intention of surpassing the dsmp LMFAODKJFHD zelda starts the server and invites everyone and it takes daruk 30 minutes to figure out how to add the server ip to his game and log in LOL. at this time, revali and link are already bickering and have already killed each other twice without weapons and only their fists, urbosa is trying to mediate, mipha has wandered off collecting flowers, and zelda starts building a house that will eventually come to be known as "hyrule castle" >:]

after daruk is able to get in the game, they eventually all deviate from each other building their own houses in different parts of the map that they designate as their own lands, e.g. urbosa finds a desert terrain and calls it the "gerudo desert", mipha lives on the beach near a vast ocean in the "zora's domain", daruk finds a mountain with multiple lava pockets that he calls "mountain of death" because he fell into the lava pockets multiple times, and revali, being the overachiever he is, terraforms an entire lake and adds multiple rock spires because he thinks it looks sick and calls it "rito rock" at first. he eventually adds his own village and brings villagers to it and then it becomes "rito village". link makes a house but he rarely ever comes home because he's already underground finding stacks of diamonds or is in the nether raiding bastions lol

the ender dragon is regarded as the calamity ganon and by default the wither=dark beast ganon? HAHAHAHA and zelda actually is super into making lore for the server (because she plays DND i just know it in her nerdy little heart), and she keeps going on and on about how the ender dragon has plagued the "land of hyrule" for thousands and thousands of years and the descendents of the builders (her and link) are destined to defeat it, with the rest of the champions assisting in the battle. revali does not like this part of the lore because he wants to play a bigger part, but he doesn't wanna beef with zelda because she's a huge streamer so he fights with link instead. revali is constantly challenging link to 1v1s at his rock spire but always taunts him like You don't even have a base to call your own! link usually ignores him though LOL

i'm not completely sure how to integrate the divine beasts into the csmp lore, but (and this is gonna be hashtag cursed if you know what i'm talking about) in the dsmp they had an era called the "pet wars" where everyone was killing each other's pets in the server for whatever reason? i swear to god i wasn't that much of a dsmp watcher i only cared about like. two people's lore max. anyways. i think the champions would tame pets and name them after their respective divine beasts. revali gets a parrot that he names medoh, mipha finds an axolotl that she names ruta, urbosa gets a camel named naboris, and link helps daruk get a fucking strider from the nether to name rudania 😭 zelda gets an allay she names terrako and link gets a wolf he names twilight :] the pets would be called the "divine beasts" and they are cherished very deeply by each champion, and they often threaten to kidnap each other's pets when they're mad at each other especially revali and link. it gets to the point where link and revali end up hitting each other's pets, and to prevent warring, zelda finds some plugin or mod to disable pet deaths, or at least pet resurrection (idk if this exists. it should tho)

each champion's land grows to be larger, they have more villages/villagers (especially zelda like come on castle town!), and the server of hyrule starts to really fill in! link's first home eventually gets blown up by a creeper and he can't be bothered to rebuild it because he doesn't really care about having a base. revali starts bickering with him being like What if you die? Where are you going to respawn? Where will you keep your valuables? (link is the person with the least amount of deaths surprisingly and it's because he keeps all his shit with him and his spawnpoint is at world spawn lol) so link is just like Ok if you're so keen on me having a base, then how about you let me borrow yours? and revali is appalled at the suggestion and they argue a little more until revali eventually gives in and lets link stay at rito village under certain conditions. (all of this is being streamed btw, most of the time so people are absolutely getting converted to revalinkism watching this). link ends up being a great asset for rito village, because he protects the villagers and helps level them up because he trades with them all the time, and absolutely annihilates at pillager raids. he also. makes huge automated farms and storage systems for him and revali, and revali is... impressed. link didn't even ask if he wanted that, he just made it and automatically shared the resources between him and revali like . wow. revalink are gonna get married in minecraft you guys it's part of the lore

i can't think of anymore CSMP other champion shenanigans off of the top of my head rn bc im sleepy now LOL but like. besides revalink lore, i definitely want to see urbosa & daruk shenanigans, zelpha lore, daruk and mipha lore, urbosa and mipha lore, and just all the shenanigans between all of the champions. now imagine champion descendent shenanigans. oh god it would be so chaotic. imagine teba constantly experiencing revali and link bickering and flirting and bantering and just being like 😐🏳️‍🌈❌

if i think of more ideas, i'll post them! i'm just brainempty from work but this au seriously has so much potential i wanna write it now 😭

[haggishlyhagging]

Some time after mid-century, things changed in ways that historians who have believed in the myth of a classless America are just beginning to examine. (These slow reshufflings of social practice can't be marked off, like battles or elections, by precise dates.) Perhaps the upheaval of the Civil War made people more anxious to assign a fixed order to people and things. Certainly the economic gap between rich and poor widened as the century went on, with more and more of the country's wealth coming into the hands of fewer and fewer men. And contrary to the cherished belief in the self-made man, the hereditary "haves" spun patterns of living far glossier than those of the "have nots." Manners, not just money, marked off one class from another.

And subtly the definition of woman's sphere changed. It had been a place where woman performed all those domestic duties from washing clothes to teaching numbers—for the greater good of her husband, her family, and hence (so the story went) of the whole society and of God himself. It became instead a place in which the true lady did nothing. At least by 1857 when Mrs. C. S. Hilborn, a former millworker, took up her pen to denounce the useless "modern aristocracy," the difference between the woman and the lady was clear. On the one hand was the "poor mother, who takes in washing, and scrubs and toils and sweats, until she looks like the skeleton of a perpetual motion." On the other was the lady “who arrays herself for a street promenade as though for a shop window exhibition, with consequential airs and robes spanning the sidewalks, and an expression of arrogant conceit which says to every passer by ‘did you ever see anything half so magnificently beautiful as I am?’”The outward differences between the lady and the woman had always been there, but they grew more apparent as time went on. The narrow upper class grew richer, more ostentatious, more conspicuous, while the lower classes, augmented by hordes of immigrants, spread around them. At the turn of the century, even as Veblen coined the term conspicuous consumption to describe the chief activity of the rich, Lester Ward, the leading sociologist of his day, estimated the poor at 80 percent of the population.

At the time, the chief difference between the upper and the lower classes was thought to lie not in the pocketbook but in the heart and mind. As Ward put it, the idea that "there exists a fundamental difference based on inherent qualities and belonging to the nature of things ... clings to the mind of man, and modern social classes are conceived to be marked off from one another by nature." At its simplest the fundamental difference between the classes was this: the rich were physically, intellectually, and morally superior; the poor physically, intellectually, and morally inferior, and indeed often depraved. As William Graham Sumner, another of sociology's founding fathers put it: "Only a small fraction of the human race have as yet, by thousands of years of struggle, been partially emancipated from poverty, ignorance, and brutishness." That small portion, "naturally," was the ruling class. What made Mrs. Hilborn (a member of the lower 80 percent) so angry was that the ladies of the ruling class were not only useless but were praised as morally superior beings on that account. As Veblen described the beliefs of the ruling class: "Abstention from labour is not only a honorific or meritorious act, but it presently comes to be a requisite of decency.... Prescription ends by making labour not only disreputable in the eyes of the community, but morally impossible to the noble freeborn man [and his lady], and incompatible with a worthy life."

When men dragged this doctrine, along with their other mythical baggage, into the courtroom, they compounded inequity. The true lady—idle, respectable, proper, and useless—could do no wrong. The woman, however, might be capable of almost anything; she could not be punished too severely. So "justice" for women in the criminal court shook down—as had so many other aspects of American life—to the basis of social class.

For black women there was no justice at all. There are few cases of black women in this book because as often as not they were punished—even hanged or burned—without legal proceeding. Sometimes their executions—legal or illegal—were mentioned in a line or two in a newspaper. A "female slave" was hanged, they reported, or "a colored female." Rarely was her name given, and almost never her story. And never was there any talk of protecting a delicate female, of saving a pretty neck. Nothing was said of refinement and sensibility and true womanhood. On the same day that Ann Evards Wright Bilansky was hanged in Minnesota—March 23, 1860–two black women, speedily arrested and convicted for the murder of one Dr. Croxton, were hanged in Essex County, Virginia. There was no talk of commuting their sentences, no talk even of preparing their immortal souls for death. Their names—the only names the white world allowed them—were Ann and Eliza.

-Ann Jones, Women Who Kill

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

American greatness has been fueled and sustained by qualities of character that are timeless and sorely needed during these days of national crisis.  There should be no mistake about this being a moment of crisis or blindness about its cause, or who specifically is responsible.

The three greatest American presidents — Washington, Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt — collectively created America, saved the Union, ended slavery, and saved the world from tyranny. Each man’s greatest achievements and service were fueled by their exceptional character and dedication to virtue.

Washington was a man of exceptional humility, who repeatedly walked away from power to set in motion a new epoch of history. He was an example of the restraint necessary to sustain a republic. His actions awed the world, as well as the people of our young nation. When he passed he was eulogized as first in war, first in peace and first in the hearts of his countrymen. 

Lincoln demonstrated iron strength, indomitability, fortitude and magnanimity. His second inaugural is the greatest speech in America’s secular canon. Its words are transcendent.

He makes clear that the cause of war was the moral catastrophe of slavery. His determination is absolute.

Fondly do we hope ~ fervently do we pray ~ that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword as was said three thousand years ago so still it must be said 'the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.'

So is his grace and magnanimity:

With malice toward none with charity for all with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right let us strive on to finish the work we are in to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan ~ to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Franklin Roosevelt had the gift of faith, and because of it, he possessed a bottomless wellspring of optimism. Because of it, he was fearless — and made his nation so. His last inaugural address was the shortest in history. It stood at 544 words, but remains remarkable nonetheless as a declaration of moral purpose around a national purpose. FDR was a man without doubt by the end. His faith was in us, and it was not misplaced then or now. Here is what he said:

Mr. Chief Justice, Mr. Vice President, my friends, you will understand and, I believe, agree with my wish that the form of this inauguration be simple and its words brief. We Americans of today, together with our allies, are passing through a period of supreme test. It is a test of our courage--of our resolve--of our wisdom--our essential democracy. If we meet that test--successfully and honorably--we shall perform a service of historic importance which men and women and children will honor throughout all time. As I stand here today, having taken the solemn oath of office in the presence of my fellow countrymen--in the presence of our God-- I know that it is America's purpose that we shall not fail. In the days and in the years that are to come we shall work for a just and honorable peace, a durable peace, as today we work and fight for total victory in war. We can and we will achieve such a peace. We shall strive for perfection. We shall not achieve it immediately--but we still shall strive. We may make mistakes--but they must never be mistakes which result from faintness of heart or abandonment of moral principle. I remember that my old schoolmaster, Dr. Peabody, said, in days that seemed to us then to be secure and untroubled: "Things in life will not always run smoothly. Sometimes we will be rising toward the heights--then all will seem to reverse itself and start downward. The great fact to remember is that the trend of civilization itself is forever upward; that a line drawn through the middle of the peaks and the valleys of the centuries always has an upward trend." Our Constitution of 1787 was not a perfect instrument; it is not perfect yet. But it provided a firm base upon which all manner of men, of all races and colors and creeds, could build our solid structure of democracy. And so today, in this year of war, 1945, we have learned lessons-- at a fearful cost--and we shall profit by them. We have learned that we cannot live alone, at peace; that our own well-being is dependent on the well-being of other nations far away. We have learned that we must live as men, not as ostriches, nor as dogs in the manger. We have learned to be citizens of the world, members of the human community. We have learned the simple truth, as Emerson said, that "The only way to have a friend is to be one." We can gain no lasting peace if we approach it with suspicion and mistrust or with fear. We can gain it only if we proceed with the understanding, the confidence, and the courage which flow from conviction. The Almighty God has blessed our land in many ways. He has given our people stout hearts and strong arms with which to strike mighty blows for freedom and truth. He has given to our country a faith which has become the hope of all peoples in an anguished world. So we pray to Him now for the vision to see our way clearly--to see the way that leads to a better life for ourselves and for all our fellow men--to the achievement of His will to peace on earth.

Eighty-two days later he was dead.

[iam-siriuslysher-lokid]

What is moving on like?

It's when you realize that you don't think about them anymore every single minute of your day. Your day goes by as it was before they came into your life. You started focusing on yourself again. You may call it "distractions" but they really fucking work, such as trying to find a new show to binge, pick up a book you never got to finish, watch a film that has been on your watchlist for far too long, surfing around the net on what new shoes or dress to buy or rather thinking of saving up for the vacation you want to go to on the year's end.

Yes, you will definitely miss them. You will miss how they took over your mind for days before. How both of you can't stop thinking about each other. How every single thing they say to you is like a core memory. How you cherish every smile, laugh, tears that you two shared. And how you saw that both of you are broken pieces. Trying to strive in a world you both don't know how to navigate to.

However, with love comes pain. It's true what they said, and I thought they were wrong. "You have to love just as much as you want to be hurt". It's the sacrifice. That's the foundation of it all. That's what make everything sturdy and firm. And that is also the time you will see how one-sided everything was. You begged, you cried, you screamed for help, for the pain. But all they do was stood there and watched you. Yes, they will say such pretty, vibrant words to you. But all you will hear is silence. As those words really meant nothing. Again, as what they said - "Actions speak louder than words."

As the darkness took over, you will be baffled on what to do. You will begin hating yourself. You will start questioning what went wrong. On what wrong thing you said. Or did. You will want to burn in the fire of your hatred towards yourself. You will want to scream as you rip off the skin of flesh that is you. You will forget how majestic, beautiful, and splendid you are. You will want to isolate yourself from everything but the truth is, no matter how much pain we go through - the world will keep going. Just like as he did. Do.

It will be very difficult to get up on your own feet again. It will hurt dozens of times, even a thousand more. But we have to brave ourselves and face our battles. No one will fight for you except you. Let the light touch your face once again. Crave every sensations on your body. Let yourself see how beautiful, valued and important - exactly as you are.

[arcstral]

[Ylisse] — The successor of the Archanean minuet, this waltz suits modern Ylissean tastes with easy-to-learn steps, a faster pace, and a closeness to your partner that continues to scandalize the older generations in Ylisse.

How it is that this many years have already come and gone never ceases to amaze, as if it were still only days prior that his very world had been shaken to its core on that early dawnlit morning. Made to reckon with the revelation that there had been a mutuality to unspoken longings all along, as hearts were laid bare and a token of shining promise exchanged hands; an unfulfilled past giving way to a hopeful future between light and shadow. Kris would have once thought it impossible, an illogical fantasy to be eventually cast aside given the barrier of their stations. Yet here they stand now, on a glittering dance floor once more. No longer plagued quite so much by worries of impropriety and self-doubt when there is honest, heartfelt desire at the mind's helm.

“Sire– ...no, Marth.” A rare warmth greets the king's eyes when they meet, his knight's hand already extended in offering. Though they are well beyond the need for such humble requests, Kris asks them all the same– with a note of teasing only heard if one knew to look for it. Humorously intent to repay the favor of an Ethereal Ball past, whether Marth recalled it or not. “Would you do this royal guard the honor of sparing a dance? He seems to have forgotten most of the steps after all this time, you see...”

The light and the shadow; without one there is no semblance of the other, and if this is a law belonging to the natural order, then it belongs to them just as well.

A familiar taper of broad shoulders, a well-known shade of blue, and a cherished ring wreathing the neck before him from a past year's bestowal, all come together in the shape of a man, a knight, and an other half. Already Kris extends to him the faith of a grip that will never waver, a love and loyalty that will never die. Already Marth steps closer as if to fill his arms with Kris, to steer two pairs of feet, one light and one heavy, onto the marble floor for another dance. Another rare and special night come once a year, specially aimed to forget the heavy tendrils of duty that wrapped around them.

But this time- on this Ethereal Ball- there is a stark difference, drawing Marth's eyes wide with a sudden flush of all color from his face, replaced in record timing with a ghostly pallor. "Kris, you. . . you. . ."

So rarely did a natural born Prince find himself at a loss for words, a king even less, and they evaded him now in favor of a stutter. A name bespoken with such ease, for once, sinking heavily into his consciousness like a stone; the anomaly posed by a calling stripped of its usual titles is clear; and the unexpected happiness of it, too, rears its head with transparency. At long last the uneven slope that might sit Marth upon a high throne with the man he loves beneath him has leveled. If he can recall little of his few remaining desires, he realizes now that he always wanted for this.

"—pffft." Joy and surprise risen together to a fever pitch, laughter shutters in the shade of an enclosed fist, hiding behind it the glow of a bright-brimming smile. "Hah! Forgive me, I was only just thinking about how belated such an event has come to occur. That you should call me by name, and my name alone, after so many years spent together. Such a occurrence makes me. . .truly happy."

Two wars, a thousand battles, and then some in their native land, succeeded by a confession, tragedies, joys, and intermittent times of peace, unity, and separation in this one. So much more. Words alone could not etch either the fine details of the bond they share or the larger picture, but perhaps the tender expression on Marth's face could- the careful, tidy placement of his fingers within the other man's as he draws them closer for the Ylissean waltz. Within the realm of propriety, then in the wastelands of its disregard.

"With that said; a dance and nothing more?" Two playful eyes bright like the twinkling of stars, in their nebulous depths is the guidance the Lodestar offers to a kingdom and a world, and now to his clumsy knight loved more than any other. He leans against Kris as if to wear his very shadow, touching his fingertips to the royal guard's mouth- a dancing, skittering touch with the faintest hint of warmth; just as a light ought to impart. "I would be most obliged to remind you of the pattern to any dance, Kris; and to do this, too."

And the heat of two fingers falls away, replaced with a kiss, well and proper.

[stoicbreviary]

Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 21

In this context some discussions with Antiphon the sophist deserve record. Antiphon approaches Socrates in hope of drawing away his associates, and in their presence thus accosts him. 

Antiphon: "Why, Socrates, I always thought it was expected of students of philosophy to grow in happiness daily; but you seem to have reaped other fruits from your philosophy. At any rate, you exist, I do not say live, in a style such as no slave serving under a master would put up with. 

"Your meat and your drink are of the cheapest sort, and as to clothes, you cling to one wretched cloak which serves you for summer and winter alike; and so you go the whole year round, without shoes to your feet or a shirt to your back. 

"Then again, you are not for taking or making money, the mere seeking of which is a pleasure, even as the possession of it adds to the sweetness and independence of existence. I do not know whether you follow the common rule of teachers, who try to fashion their pupils in imitation of themselves, and propose to mould the characters of your companions; but if you do you ought to dub yourself professor of the art of wretchedness.” 

Thus challenged, Socrates replied: "One thing to me is certain, Antiphon; you have conceived so vivid an idea of my life of misery that for yourself you would choose death sooner than live as I do. 

"Suppose now we turn and consider what it is you find so hard in my life. Is it that he who takes payment must as a matter of contract finish the work for which he is paid, whereas I, who do not take it, lie under no constraint to discourse except with whom I choose? 

"Do you despise my dietary on the ground that the food which I eat is less wholesome and less stengthening than yours, or that the articles of my consumption are so scarce and so much costlier to procure than yours? Or have the fruits of your marketing a flavor denied to mine? Do you not know the sharper the appetite the less the need of sauces, the keener the thirst the less the desire for out-of-the-way drinks? 

"And as to raiment, clothes, you know, are changed on account of cold or else of heat. People only wear boots and shoes in order not to gall their feet and be prevented walking. Now I ask you, have you ever noticed that I keep more within doors than others on account of the cold? Have you ever seen me battling with any one for shade on account of the heat? 

"Do you not know that even a weakling by nature may, by dint of exercise and practice, come to outdo a giant who neglects his body? He will beat him in the particular point of training, and bear the strain more easily. 

"But you apparently will not have it that I, who am for ever training myself to endure this, that, and the other thing which may befall the body, can brave all hardships more easily than yourself for instance, who perhaps are not so practiced. 

"And to escape slavery to the belly or to sleep or lechery, can you suggest more effective means than the possession of some powerful attraction, some counter-charm which shall gladden not only in the using, but by the hope enkindled of its lasting usefulness? 

"And yet this you do know; joy is not to him who feels that he is doing well in nothing—it belongs to one who is persuaded that things are progressing with him, be it tillage or the working of a vessel, or any of the thousand and one things on which a man may chance to be employed. To him it is given to rejoice as he reflects, 'I am doing well.' 

"But is the pleasured derived from all these put together half as joyous as the consciousness of becoming better oneself, of acquiring better and better friends? That, for my part, is the belief I continue to cherish. 'The business of a shipowner or skipper.' 

"Again, if it be a question of helping one's friends or country, which of the two will have the larger leisure to devote to these objects—he who leads the life which I lead today, or he who lives in the style which you deem so fortunate? 

"Which of the two will adopt a soldier's life more easily—the man who cannot get on without expensive living, or he to whom whatever comes to hand suffices? 

"Which will be the readier to capitulate and cry 'mercy' in a siege—the man of elaborate wants, or he who can get along happily with the readiest things to hand? 

"You, Antiphon, would seem to suggest that happiness consists of luxury and extravagance; I hold a different creed. To have no wants at all is, to my mind, an attribute of Godhead; to have as few wants as possible the nearest approach to Godhead; and as that which is divine is mightiest, so that is next mightiest which comes closest to the divine." 

—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.6 

IMAGE: Pietro Bellotti, Socrates (c. 1680)

[kanisema-blog]

Mafia Nanny

Chapter 32: Farewell

Wyatt and I were in the living room, the air filled with laughter as we swung our makeshift swords made of rolled-up newspapers. His delighted giggles were a melody I had grown to cherish, a bittersweet reminder of the bond we had forged over the past two years.

"En garde!" I exclaimed, brandishing my newspaper sword with a dramatic flourish. Wyatt parried with a grin, his eyes sparkling with youthful exuberance.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, cutting through our playful battle. I paused, lowering my sword and glancing toward the door. "I'll get it," I said, ruffling Wyatt's hair as I moved past him.

I opened the door to find a young woman standing there, her posture confident and her expression composed. "Hello, I'm Mia Parker," she introduced herself, extending a hand. "I’m looking for Samuel."

Wyatt appeared at my side, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Who are you?" he asked, peering up at her.

Before Mia could respond, Samuel descended the stairs, his presence commanding as always. "Mia, come in," he said, a warm smile on his face. "Hannah, this is Mia Parker, my work partner."

I felt a pang of suspicion and something else—something I didn’t want to name—as I watched their interaction. "Nice to meet you, Mia," I said, forcing a polite smile.

The days that followed were filled with an unease I couldn't shake. Mia's presence in the mansion was a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between Samuel and me, a chasm that no amount of time or effort could bridge.

Two years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Mia and Samuel grew closer, their relationship blossoming into something more than just professional partnership. And then came the news that struck my heart with the force of a hammer: Samuel and Mia were getting married.

The wedding was a small, intimate affair. I watched from the sidelines, a silent observer to a love story that was not mine to tell. Mia became Wyatt's adopted mother, her warmth and kindness winning him over quickly.

One evening, Samuel approached me in the quiet of the study, his expression somber. "Hannah, you’ve been with us for so long. You've been incredible with Wyatt. But it's time for you to chase your own dreams now."

His words felt like a punch to the gut, even though I had known this day would come. "I understand," I replied softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

The day I left the mansion was overcast, the sky mirroring the heaviness in my heart. I packed my things, each item a reminder of the moments I had shared with Wyatt and Samuel. Wyatt clung to me, his tears soaking my shirt as I hugged him tightly.

"Don't go, Hannah," he pleaded, his voice choked with sobs. "I don’t want you to go."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my own tears threatening to spill over. "I have to, Wyatt," I whispered, my voice trembling. "But I will always love you. Always."

Samuel stood nearby, his expression unreadable. "Thank you for everything, Hannah," he said, his voice laced with genuine gratitude.

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond. As I walked away from the mansion, each step felt like a thousand, the weight of my emotions almost too much to bear.

In the weeks that followed, I tried to focus on my own dreams, to build a life for myself beyond the walls of the mansion. But the memories lingered, haunting my every waking moment. I thought of Wyatt's laughter, Samuel's rare smiles, and the life I had once imagined for myself.

As I stood on the brink of a new beginning, I couldn't help but feel the sting of heartache. Samuel had found love again, a love that ended in marriage and a new family. And I, the nanny who had once loved him, was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart.

But amid the sorrow, there was a glimmer of hope—a hope that one day, I would find my own happiness, my own path. And as I took that first step into the unknown, I carried with me the bittersweet memories of a love that was never meant to be, and the strength to forge a new destiny for myself.