#among many if not most other moments in that argument

[greenteaandtattoos]

the sheer unfaithfulness of laudna's argument of, "i gave you a bruise, you gave me gashes" in trying to undermine orym's validity as if she wasn't the REASON he had attacked her, thinking she was an enemy because he couldn't SEE her after she cast darkness and she wouldn't SPEAK UP to assure him that it was her and she REFUSED to back down after he woke up and chose thievery and lashing out and risking his life AND his trust instead of COMMUNICATING, left me completely and utterly FLABBERGASTED at the AUDACITY

[mariacallous]

Why disinformation experts say the Israel-Hamas war is a nightmare to investigate

The Israel-Hamas conflict has been a minefield of confusing counter-arguments and controversies—and an information environment that experts investigating mis- and disinformation say is among the worst they’ve ever experienced.

In the time since Hamas launched its terror attack against Israel last month—and Israel has responded with a weekslong counterattack—social media has been full of comments, pictures, and video from both sides of the conflict putting forward their case. But alongside real images of the battles going on in the region, plenty of disinformation has been sown by bad actors.

“What is new this time, especially with Twitter, is the clutter of information that the platform has created, or has given a space for people to create, with the way verification is handled,” says Pooja Chaudhuri, a researcher and trainer at Bellingcat, which has been working to verify or debunk claims from both the Israeli and Palestinian sides of the conflict, from confirming that Israel Defense Forces struck the Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza to debunking the idea that the IDF has blown up some of Gaza’s most sacred sites.

Bellingcat has found plenty of claims and counterclaims to investigate, but convincing people of the truth has proven more difficult than in previous situations because of the firmly entrenched views on either side, says Chaudhuri’s colleague Eliot Higgins, the site’s founder.

“People are thinking in terms of, ‘Whose side are you on?’ rather than ‘What’s real,’” Higgins says. “And if you’re saying something that doesn’t agree with my side, then it has to mean you’re on the other side. That makes it very difficult to be involved in the discourse around this stuff, because it’s so divided.”

For Imran Ahmed, CEO of the Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH), there have only been two moments prior to this that have proved as difficult for his organization to monitor and track: One was the disinformation-fueled 2020 U.S. presidential election, and the other was the hotly contested space around the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I can’t remember a comparable time. You’ve got this completely chaotic information ecosystem,” Ahmed says, adding that in the weeks since Hamas’s October 7 terror attack social media has become the opposite of a “useful or healthy environment to be in”—in stark contrast to what it used to be, which was a source of reputable, timely information about global events as they happened.

The CCDH has focused its attention on X (formerly Twitter), in particular, and is currently involved in a lawsuit with the social media company, but Ahmed says the problem runs much deeper.

“It’s fundamental at this point,” he says. “It’s not a failure of any one platform or individual. It’s a failure of legislators and regulators, particularly in the United States, to get to grips with this.” (An X spokesperson has previously disputed the CCDH’s findings to Fast Company, taking issue with the organization’s research methodology. “According to what we know, the CCDH will claim that posts are not ‘actioned’ unless the accounts posting them are suspended,” the spokesperson said. “The majority of actions that X takes are on individual posts, for example by restricting the reach of a post.”)

Ahmed contends that inertia among regulators has allowed antisemitic conspiracy theories to fester online to the extent that many people believe and buy into those concepts. Further, he says it has prevented organizations like the CCDH from properly analyzing the spread of disinformation and those beliefs on social media platforms. “As a result of the chaos created by the American legislative system, we have no transparency legislation. Doing research on these platforms right now is near impossible,” he says.

It doesn’t help when social media companies are throttling access to their application programming interfaces, through which many organizations like the CCDH do research. “We can’t tell if there’s more Islamophobia than antisemitism or vice versa,” he admits. “But my gut tells me this is a moment in which we are seeing a radical increase in mobilization against Jewish people.”

Right at the time when the most insight is needed into how platforms are managing the torrent of dis- and misinformation flooding their apps, there’s the least possible transparency.

The issue isn’t limited to private organizations. Governments are also struggling to get a handle on how disinformation, misinformation, hate speech, and conspiracy theories are spreading on social media. Some have reached out to the CCDH to try and get clarity.

“In the last few days and weeks, I’ve briefed governments all around the world,” says Ahmed, who declines to name those governments—though Fast Company understands that they may include the U.K. and European Union representatives. Advertisers, too, have been calling on the CCDH to get information about which platforms are safest for them to advertise on.

Deeply divided viewpoints are exacerbated not only by platforms tamping down on their transparency but also by technological advances that make it easier than ever to produce convincing content that can be passed off as authentic. “The use of AI images has been used to show support,” Chaudhuri says. This isn’t necessarily a problem for trained open-source investigators like those working for Bellingcat, but it is for rank-and-file users who can be hoodwinked into believing generative-AI-created content is real.

And even if those AI-generated images don’t sway minds, they can offer another weapon in the armory of those supporting one side or the other—a slur, similar to the use of “fake news” to describe factual claims that don’t chime with your beliefs, that can be deployed to discredit legitimate images or video of events.

“What is most interesting is anything that you don’t agree with, you can just say that it’s AI and try to discredit information that may also be genuine,” Choudhury says, pointing to users who have claimed an image of a dead baby shared by Israel’s account on X was AI—when in fact it was real—as an example of weaponizing claims of AI tampering. “The use of AI in this case,” she says, “has been quite problematic.”

[pinkishcupid]

𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫

Divider credit to plutism ln here, please go check them out!!

-author’s note : my first fanfic in here ahhh, please excuse me for my grammar I tried going through the fic and fix any mistakes of mine since English isn’t my first language, nonetheless I hope y’all enjoy it & reblogs are appreciated <3

-fandom; poppy playtime

-pairing; dogday x reader, it can be taken as romantic or platonic

-genre; fluff ig

They always said angels were the most divine beings among god’s creations, and dogday couldn’t agree more.

 In the depths of the hell that was the old playtime co. Factory, to see a kind soul was such a refreshing thing to be witnessed by the big hound, especially a soul willing to throw themselves in the face of danger to save others despite the possibility of dying , but you didn’t have a problem with that as you helped of the old toys like poppy & kissy missy, and he was no exception.

Ever since the moment you saved him, dogday wouldn’t stop calling you “angel”; even after learning your real name, because to him you truly was one, and his words even became more true in his eyes once you tried your hardest to sew his legs back into his upper body after finding them, with the help of poppy & kissy missy of course, and luckily for you & him the sewing operation was successful.

 With his legs back intact to his body it took dogday a couple of days to regain his ability to walk and some of his strength, you guessed it would take him a good while for him to return to his normal self; way before his legs were ripped off, but to dogday he had to repay you for your acts of kindness somehow, and to him the only way to repay it is by trying to be as much useful as possible to the team.

  “I already told you dogday, please rest”, you proceeded to say to the big hound who was looming behind you, but to dogday it wasn’t convincing enough, “but angel please let me accompany you, it can be dangerous out there!” He replied back with a mix of stubbornness & worry about your well being, you just sighed due to how the argument between you two just went back & forth without any winning end, so you decided to end it by sucking it up & letting him win.

  “Fine you can come with me, but don’t try to tire yourself, okay? The stitches on your body hadn’t fully healed yet”, you said to him now being the defeated end of the argument, dogday’s smile widened as his tail wiggled in excitement, he answered back happy with your answer, “you can count on me angel!”, He then walked past you leading the way through the dark hallway that led out of the safe space you & your team resided in, you didn’t reply but you simply smiled at how adorable his response was, because how couldn’t you say no to him? As you snapped back into reality as dogday called out for you to follow him, you gave him a thumbs up as you followed his lead with that smile he adored the most.

 Unknowingly to you, a big reason of the way dogday acted a bit protective over you;  was because being beside was like heaven to him, it felt like he was being greeted by one of the many doors of heaven, as one of them opened upon him showing him only light like the amount of hope you gave him, that there’s still a chance for a better future outside of this old factory for old broken toys like him.

  and he knew for sure he wouldn’t let such a bliss like you slip away from his paws easily.

Made by pinkishcupid

[vettelsvee]

BEE HOTELS | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

sebastian vettel x wife!journalist!reader

summary: seb's suzuka biodiversity project goes according to plan... or will he have some surprises that he might reject at first?

word count: 1983

warnings: none of it really! just seb being the standard, as i always write him (almost always, oops). use of y/n y/l/n

taglist: @celemilii bc i wrote this for her as a birthday present! i recommend you to read her works bc she's just like me: we write about the oldies.

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The painting in yellow and black tones increasingly filled his hands. Sweat dripped from his forehead, not only due to the sun that was blazing that day in Suzuka but also because of the stress he was feeling to ensure that the project turned out as planned: flawlessly.

Sebastian had spent months not only brainstorming and meticulously preparing for that Japanese Grand Prix weekend but also dedicating himself wholeheartedly the night before to build each of the hotels that his former colleagues were now painting.

He was exhausted, but the feeling of happiness he was experiencing at that moment was immense. The conversations among the other drivers couldn't be more positive. They seemed to be enjoying the process, constantly sharing laughter and jokes among them as they continued with their task the best they could.

While the German was focused on ensuring that everything was going perfectly, he could gradually see, out of the corner of his eye, a figure he knew perfectly well in any form.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" 

Her husband's tone surprised Y/N, who lowered her arms, disheartened, knowing that the hug she was about to give would most likely not be reciprocated.

"I came to see you. What else would I do?" replied the journalist, ignoring Seb's behavior. "And to interview you too, but you already know it."

The blonde frowned, feeling a bit confused by the situation. Interview him? How could there be nothing he wouldn't know?

"Interview me?" he innocently asked.

"Didn't Britta tell you?"

Sebastian shook his head once again. Y/N’s gaze shifted to Roeske, who averted his eyes at the mess he knew he had caused with the couple. The former driver's PR knew that if he had said anything beforehand, Seb would have likely rejected the offer and, most importantly, gotten upset. Besides, he knew that such a refusal would upset Mrs. Vettel, and that would end up in a pointless argument between the couple.

"Well, you know how Britta is. She didn't mention anything about interviewing me today, especially not by you. You know, with so many things she has to keep track of..." Vettel tried to excuse her.

The journalist shook her head and once again looked at the PR, seeking confirmation from his side. A single nod was enough to acknowledge that her client was right.

"Y/N, schön, we need to maintain professionalism," Vettel stated firmly, seeing that neither of the two women responded. "I don't think it's very appropriate to mix our personal life with the professional one. We've always done it this way, and we should..."

"To hell with professionalism, darling," she interrupted, raising her voice. "We've been pretending to be professional for too many years to keep doing it. You've been retired for almost a year, living the life you've always wanted with our children and me," she explained, trying to convince him. "It won't hurt if you let go and be yourself, if we just are ourselves."

Sebastian remained silent for a few seconds that felt eternal for the woman. He knew Y/N was right, he knew nothing would happen if they showed themselves as the couple they were in private, but his shyer side, the most introverted one, the one that wanted to protect his privacy above all and, above all, his family, felt a kind of fear that this would end up making him completely vulnerable to public scrutiny.

"Alright, let's do the interview," the German finally said, causing his wife to start hopping around before pouncing on him and kissing him all over his face.

"Where should we start, Mr. Vettel?"

"What about giving Mrs. Vettel a kiss?" he replied, playing along with the game the journalist had started. "You know, to help ease any tensions..."

Sebastian didn't need to say anything more for his wife to take his face in her hands and pull him towards her, giving him a kiss that lasted not only longer than they would have allowed on another occasion, but also longer than they themselves expected.

They ended up pulling away after a few seconds, just as they began to hear cheers, applause, and comments from the other drivers, who were watching the couple enthralled, as they had never shown themselves in such a way during their years in Formula 1.

"Carry on with what you're doing!" the four-time world champion shouted, trying not to sound angry. "I don't want anything left unfinished!"

Y/N couldn't help but blush and lower her head in embarrassment at all the attention she was drawing.

"Um... shall we start now, darling?" the journalist spoke again, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Yes, yes, of course. Go ahead, ask me anything."

She quickly pulled out her notebook, where she had written down a large number of questions to ask her husband as if she hadn't actually worked hand in hand with him on the project. She tried to maintain professionalism despite the still uncomfortable situation they were immersed in.

Seb, who seemed to notice how tense the woman was, decided to do things a little differently, although it was more than obvious that it took him some effort to take the first step.

Quickly and with trembling hands, he wrapped his right arm around his wife's waist and slowly guided her to sit on the ground next to him. She resisted at first because, deep down, she was also afraid to show herself as she truly was with the love of her life; but when she saw how the German also invited the cameraman who was filming them to sit on the ground, she knew there was no choice but to listen to the guy who initially meant nothing to her but ended up becoming her everything.

"More comfortable like this, right, schön?" Sebastian wanted to know, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes, I think it will be more comfortable, darling," she replied, allowing herself to be guided by her husband's behavior, although once again blushing slightly.

With her head resting on his shoulder, the journalist took her notebook in her hands again, flipping through the page where she had the first question of what would undoubtedly be the most fake interview not only she had ever done but probably would do in her extensive career as a journalist.

"Well, let's start, darling. What inspired you the most to start this biodiversity project?"

"Well, as you know, I've always felt a special connection with nature and the environment. Do you remember the conversations we used to have, like, I don't know, about twelve or thirteen years ago?" she nodded. Of course, she remembered. How could she forget when he revealed to her how much the issue mattered to him at his home in Monaco, even before they had started dating? "I wanted to do something to show the importance of biodiversity, so these bee hotels seemed perfect to me."

"And why Suzuka, Seb?"

"Do you really need an answer to that question?" the man countered, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you already knew."

Now it was Y/N who looked less than pleased. Of course she knew why he had chosen Suzuka, it's just that the viewers, possibly, didn't.

"Suzuka is a very special place for me, both professionally and personally," the German continued. "This place has witnessed many important moments of my life, and I wanted to somehow give back everything it has done for me. Its people, I mean," he hastened to add. The journalist laughed at the incoherence of the response, earning herself a playful punch on the arm and some affectionate insults.

The interview continued in such a way that, more than a recording that would be broadcast on various media later, it seemed like one of those informal chats the couple used to have in their room, lying on the bed they both shared, after reading a story to their children and leaving them completely asleep.

Laughs, knowing looks, and even some intimate memories that ended up being revealed to the camera flowed effortlessly. Sebastian couldn't stop playing with Sally's hands and hair, caressing them so delicately that she seemed like a porcelain doll. The journalist, on her part, couldn't stop running her index finger up and down her husband's arm, writing invisible messages about how much she loved him.

"To finish I'd like to know something, darling. How was the process of designing and building each one of those bee hotels?"

"As you already know, and for those who are watching, I was lucky to work with a local carpenter yesterday. We worked on them all day long, and even part of the night. There are eleven in total: one for each team, and one for me," replied the German with a big smile.

His wife started laughing, and her lips twisted in a way that it wasn't hard for Vettel to recognize that his wife was hiding something.

"In fact, there are twelve, Seb," the journalist said with a playful tone.

"What do you mean twelve?" he asked, quite confused. "Love, you were there yesterday. There were eleven. One for each team, one for every two drivers, and another for..."

"I made one myself and I painted it too. Well... some parts are already painted because I asked the kids, secretly, to paint them so you could have a little piece of them here..."

The former driver was impressed by his wife's confession, and he couldn't help but feel emotional. Even a couple of tears threatened to leave his eyes when he saw Y/N, completely excited, getting up from the grass and fixing her clothes before reaching out her hand to him.

"What are you waiting for, Seb? Come on, you have to see it!"

Seb followed her, feeling a mix of very strange emotions after sharing life with this girl for so many years. When they arrived, they stopped in front of it, Britta taking photos from every possible angle and then starting a video call with the couple's children, who were staying with Seb’s parents.

"Schön, this is... God, I have no words. It's incredible."

Y/N smiled proudly before heading towards the structure and start explaining him everything.

"I've drawn us here, right in the front," indeed, there were two larger figures next to three smaller ones, surrounded by flowers and trees. "And here are the kids' drawings. Honestly, I don't know what they've drawn, but... I knew it would make you happy to have a little piece of them too."

The blonde bent down in front of the hotel made by his wife, examining it carefully as he traced with his fingers the strokes that Emily, Matilda, and Ben had made who knows when, and that seemed to have been well hidden. They were simple, clumsy, but he knew that behind them there was something much more important: the purest love he had ever experienced and that nothing and no one could surpass, not even his wife.

"It's wonderful, Y/N. You have no idea what this means to me."

Y/N could only approach her husband and give him a chaste kiss on the lips, not caring this time what happened next.

"I did it for you, Seb. I love you, we love you," she corrected herself, turning towards the mobile phone in front of them that Britta still held, referring to their children, who could be heard excitedly. "You are the sunshine of our lives and you deserve much more than this."

Sebastian didn't hesitate to, once again, kiss Y/N, and then hug her tightly, continuing to give her kisses on her temples.

"I wouldn't be the sunshine of your life if you weren't in it," he whispered in her ear. "You are the sunshine of my life. I love you, Y/N. Thank you for everything."

[etrsilk]

Please can we get a main 4 x reader during ovulation? It's coming up and I'm literally like a feral beast 😭 also I love your writings so far 💕💕

₊✩‧₊˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⇝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨: 𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘢,𝘎𝘰𝘯,𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘬𝘢,𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 — ✘

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

⎝ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚:: I love this request so much!! also sorry, it’s quite short 😭 and thank you very much <3💕

 —𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ Killua would be a bit embarrassed; it’s not that it was really a taboo subject for him, but rather that among the many blood-related topics discussed, this one wasn’t the most frequent (lmao)

➘ If you tend to have very painful periods, he would probably do his best to be as attentive and caring as possible. If your periods aren’t very painful, he would allow himself to tease you and be a bit playful, but nothing too harsh… he’s just trying to lift your spirits in his own way!

➘ In reality, he worries a bit and tries to be as comforting, patient, and empathetic as possible, although he can be a bit clumsy

➘ he would act a bit like in this headcanon, He would act a bit like in these headcanons, trying to take care of you as he would with a sick reader, with lots of tenderness and attention !

 —𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐊𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ He would be absolutely the best. You wouldn’t even need to tell him what you need; he would already show up with a prepared hot water bottle, the necessary medication, and your favorite snacks.

➘ He would feel really sorry for you if you had painful periods and would do everything he could to ease your discomfort. He’d offer massages, keep you company, and find ways to distract you to make you feel better.

➘ He would also be incredibly cuddly, showering you with tenderness and affection. He would make sure you exert as little effort as possible and get plenty of rest. He’d take care of you by serving you everything you need and handling the small tasks so you can relax.

➘ Regarding your mood, he would try to be as tolerant and patient as possible. He’d always give you the benefit of the doubt to avoid arguments and support you in every difficult moment. He would do everything to make you feel loved and understood, even during the most uncomfortable times.

 —𝐆𝐎𝐍ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ Despite growing up surrounded by women, he knows very little about it… He barely understands what it is. I see Mito as a rather “conservative” person, and his grandmother simply never had the chance to discuss this topic with him.

➘ Even so, I don’t think he would be particularly embarrassed when you talk about it! It’s just frustrating because he doesn’t know much and therefore doesn’t really know how to help you or what you might be going through. But fortunately, his savior was there to explain everything and give him advice…

➘ LEORIO!!

➘ He would try to be as attentive, caring, and gentle with you as possible. He would frequently ask if you’re okay and would bring you hot water bottles or medication on his own initiative.

➘ he would act a bit like in this headcanon, he would try to comfort you and distract you by planning movie nights or fun activities like that!

 —𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ Leorio would know you’re going to have your period even before you do.

➘ As a doctor, he is VERY knowledgeable and would do everything possible to relieve your menstrual pain with all the existing methods available. He would give you massages and use innovative, and maybe even a bit surprising, techniques to help you feel better.

➘ The fact that he’s a doctor makes him even more understanding and attentive to your needs!

➘ Being a true gentleman, he would offer to do all the housework and daily chores, of course. He would make sure you don’t have to do anything other than rest.

➘ To comfort you, he would try to make you laugh with his jokes and charming humor. He would do everything to make you feel loved and supported during this time.

—English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!!

[opencommunion]

When I refer to zionists as textbook genocide denialists, btw, I'm talking about literal textbooks I was assigned in my genocide studies classes. Here's an excerpt from one, Genocide: A Comprehensive Introduction by Adam Jones, detailing common genocide denialist arguments. I've bolded arguments that I've personally heard from zionists (including ‘neutral’ fence-sitters, who are on the side of the oppressor by default) — during the current Gaza genocide, but also in reference to the entire history of the genocidal zionist occupation. It's important to learn to recognize these arguments and call them what they are, genocide denial, rather than excusing denialists as simply misinformed or misguided.

"Among the most common discourses of genocide denial are the following: 'Hardly anybody died.' Reports of atrocities and mass killings are depicted as exaggerated and self-serving. ... Photographic and video evidence is dismissed as fake or staged. Gaps in physical evidence are exploited, particularly an absence of corpses. Where are the bodies of the Jews killed by the Nazis? (Incinerated, conveniently for the deniers.) Where are the bodies of the thousands of Kosovars supposedly killed by Serbs in 1999? (Buried on military and police bases, or dumped in rivers and down mineshafts, as it transpired.) When the genocides lie far in the past, obfuscation is easier. Genocides of indigenous peoples are especially subject to this form of denial. In many cases, the groups in question suffered near-total extermination, leaving few descendants and advocates to press the case for truth. 'It was self-defense.' 'The onset of [genocidal] killing,' wrote Jacques Sémelin, 'almost always seems to involve this astounding sleight of hand that assimilates the destruction of civilians with a perfectly legitimate act of war. From that moment on, massacre becomes an act of self-defense.' Murdered civilians - especially adult males – are depicted as 'rebels,' 'brigands,' 'partisans,' 'terrorists.' The state and its allies are justified in eliminating them, though unfortunate 'excesses' may occur. Deniers of the Armenian genocide, for example, play up the presence of armed elements and resistance among the Armenian population – even clearly defensive resistance. ... Genocide may also be depicted as an act of pre-emptive self-defense, based on atrocities, actual or alleged, inflicted on the perpetrator group in the past – sometimes the very distant past. Sémelin, for example, has explained Serbs’ 'insensitivit[y] to the suffering they caused' in the Balkan genocide of the 1990s in terms of their inability to perceive any but 'their own woes' ... A substrategy of this discourse is the claim that 'the violence was mutual.' Where genocides occur in a context of civil or international war, they can be depicted as part of generalized warfare, perhaps featuring atrocities on all sides. This strategy is standard among the deniers of genocides by Turks, Japanese, Serbs, Hutus, and West Pakistanis – to name just a few. In Australia, Keith Windschuttle used killings of whites by Aboriginals to denounce 'The Myths of Frontier Massacres in Australian History.' ... Sometimes the deniers seem oblivious to the content of their claims, reflecting deeply embedded stereotypes and genuine ignorance, rather than malicious intent – as with the CNN reporter who blithely referred to the world standing by and 'watch[ing] Hutus and Tutsis kill each other' during the Rwandan genocide of 1994.

'The deaths weren’t intentional.' The difficulties of demonstrating and documenting genocidal intent are exploited to deny that genocide occurred. The utility of this strategy is enhanced where a longer causal chain underpins mass mortality. Thus, when diverse factors combine to cause death, or when supposedly 'natural' elements such as disease and famine account for many or most deaths, a denialist discourse is especially appealing. It buttresses most denials of indigenous genocides, for example. Deniers of the Armenian and Jewish holocausts also contend that most deaths occurred from privations and afflictions that were inevitable, if regrettable, in a wartime context – in any case, not genocidal.

'There was no central direction.' Frequently, states and their agents establish deniability by running off-duty death squads, or employing freelance forces such as paramilitaries (as in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Darfur), criminal elements (e.g., the chétés in the Armenian genocide), and members of the targeted groups themselves (Jewish kapos in the Nazi death camps; Mayan peasants conscripted for genocide against Mayan populations of the Guatemalan highlands). State attempts to eliminate evidence may mean that documentation of central direction, as of genocidal intent, is scarce. Many deniers of the Jewish Holocaust emphasize the lack of a clear order from Hitler or his top associates to exterminate European Jews. Armenian genocide denial similarly centers on the supposed freelance status of those who carried out whatever atrocities are admitted to have occurred.

'There weren’t that many people to begin with.' [*] Where demographic data provide support for claims of genocide, denialists will gravitate towards the lowest available figures for the targeted population, or invent new ones. The effect is to cast doubt on mortality statistics by downplaying the victims’ demographic weight at the outbreak of genocide. This strategy is especially common in denials of genocide against indigenous peoples, as well as the Ottoman genocide of Christian minorities.

'It wasn’t/isn’t genocide, because ...' Here, the ambiguities of the UN Genocide Convention are exploited, and combined with the denial strategies already cited. Atrocious events do not qualify as 'genocide' … because the victims were not members of one of the Convention’s specified groups; because their deaths were unintended; because they were legitimate targets; because 'only' specific sectors of the target group (e.g., 'battle-age' men) were killed; because 'war is hell;' and so on. 'We would never do that.' Collective pathological narcissism occludes recognition, or even conscious consideration, of genocidal culpability. When the state and its citizens consider themselves pure, peaceful, democratic, and lawabiding, responsibility for atrocity may be literally unthinkable. In Turkey, notes Taner Akçam, anyone 'dar[ing] to speak about the Armenian Genocide ... is aggressively attacked as a traitor, singled out for public condemnation and may even be put in prison.' In Australia, 'the very mention of an Australian genocide is … appalling and galling and must be put aside,' according to Colin Tatz. 'A curious national belief is that simply being Australian, whether by birth or naturalisation, is sufficient inoculation against deviation from moral and righteous behaviour.' Comedian Rob Corddry parodied this mindset in the context of US abuses and atrocities at Abu Ghraib prison near Baghdad. 'There’s no question what took place in that prison was horrible,' Corddry said on The Daily Show. 'But the Arab world has to realize that the US shouldn’t be judged on the actions of a ... well, we shouldn’t be judged on actions. It’s our principles that matter, our inspiring, abstract notions. Remember: just because torturing prisoners is something we did, doesn’t mean it’s something we would do.'

'We are the real victims.' For deniers, the best defense is often a strong offense. With its 'Day of Fallen Diplomats,' Turkey uses Armenian terrorist attacks against Turkish diplomatic staff to pre-empt attention to the Turkish genocide against Armenians. In the case of Germany and the Nazi Holocaust, there is a point at which a victim mentality concentrating on German suffering leads to the horrors that Germans inflicted, on Jews and others, being downgraded or denied. In the Balkans, a discourse of genocide was first deployed by Serb intellectuals promoting a nationalist–xenophobic project; the only 'genocide' admitted was that against Serbs, whether by Croatians in the Second World War (which indeed occurred), or in Kosovo at the hands of the Albanian majority (which was a paranoid fantasy). Notably, this stress on victimhood provided powerful fuel for unleashing the genocides in the first place." * Zionists make two demographic claims to deny genocide, and specifically to deny the Nakba: the first parallels what Jones says here — that there weren't many (or even any) Palestinians ("Arabs") in Palestine to begin with, and/or mass expulsions were actually voluntary migration. The second is a reversal, where zionists point to demographic data and claim that Palestinian population growth must mean genocide never occurred (as if genocide survivors aren't capable of having children). For further reading on Nakba denial specifically, Nur Masalha's work is a good place to start, especially The Palestine Nakba (2012), Politics of Denial (2003), A Land Without A People (1997), and Expulsion of the Palestinians (1992).

[melrosing]

the thing that annoys me the most about the bullying claim among the stark sisters is that they talk about how much it affects Arya that she thinks she’s ugly and such and like she does, but she’s so much more worried about being “bad” she killed a boy. She’s also going through poverty and war and starving and being introduced to cults/bands of “justice” by murder

but nooooo she totally is more affected by being called horse face despite being compared to SOOOOOO MANY PRETTY PEOPLE AND THAT MEANS SHES GOOD (never mind that good looking=good person should NOT BE YOUR BASIS)

I think most people, and especially girls, know exactly how it feels to worry about your appearance and feel ugly and unattractive, and I get that this is a particular pain for Arya, who apparently has never been called pretty except by her dad one time in AGOT, in an offhanded comparison to her aunt Lyanna. I don't think attractiveness is the most important thing to validate in any child, but I do think that it is good and nice to affirm to your child that they have their own beauty, so that they can then negotiate their relationship with that word from a safer place in adulthood.

It's not about telling your child they don't look a certain way (e.g. no good telling Brienne she's a normal height and her nose is hardly crooked at all), but that the way they look is something unique to them and something they should take pride in, regardless of what others say. Like I think it's an OOC moment in the show, but I think it's sweet when Olenna tells Brienne she looks 'marvellous' or something. She's not saying 'you look like bella hadid', she's saying 'I love the way you look!' to a woman who has received nothing but insults (despite looking like fuckin. Gwendoline Christie lmao). that is nice. it's not the most important compliment anyone can receive, but it embraces divergence as positive.

as it goes though, Arya is a pretty girl and it's just weird that the adults found countless compliments for Sansa and none for Arya. and that's why I find it so bizarre that everyone wants to pin Arya's self-esteem issues on Sansa, a prepubescent child!! like, would Arya have taken these insults so hard if Cat had stepped in and said 'don't listen, you're a lovely girl and your father says you look just like your aunt Lyanna! sansa i am telling you off for calling people names'. children are always going to call each other mean names! it is one thing that is practically guaranteed to happen in any sibling relationship, and anyone who says otherwise is an only child or lying.

but it is much harder for a child to manage that hurt if they're getting called those names, and society seems to be reifying to truth of them at every turn! Septa Mordane is calling her ugly! Cat is calling her a mess! Ned has never complimented her till AGOT! etc! she has never received a compliment before! so how on earth can you say 'and Arya's self-esteem issues can all be traced back to the playground bickering between she and Sansa and Jeyne' when Arya is obviously getting the same message from what seem like far more authoritative sources! is it not worse that those sources are all complimenting Sansa all the time and never Arya? does that not make it worse when Sansa acts like a child about it? like!!

and yeah I agree that there are other more painful insecurities Arya is struggling with. I do think at least part of the reason that this argument keeps coming up in fandom is that people keep trying to claim that Arya's story is similar to Brienne's, in that she IS ugly according to society's standards and that's ok! which isn't true, Arya is canonically a pretty kid with a dirty face and unbrushed hair. that's all it is. so if we could just accept that, there'd be no excuse for the insistence that this is an important aspect of Arya's story.

because it isn't. like im sorry but the ugly duckling means nothing when there are plenty of people who don't grow up to be swans. they get called ugly as children, and they get called ugly as adults. look at Brienne: she has suffered far, far worse prejudice as a result of her appearance in childhood, and she doesn't get the catharsis of growing up pretty to show them all how wrong they were. Brienne has been treated like a fucking monster for how she looks, all of her life. this is a character for whom her appearance IS actually an important theme, and it will be meaningful to see her realise it's a strength, and find love etc. I'm sorry but Arya growing up to be beautiful doesn't mean shit to me lol. I fully accept it's canon, but it is not a meaningful story beat, in a story with people like Tyrion, Brienne and Sam. Arya's story has so many more fascinating themes about identity, trauma, justice, war, friendship and family. if Arya was pretty all along, why should I care?

[pollymorgan]

Ex-Husband Negan Part 3

Warnings: Defloration, but in a good way.

Tense, Negan looked back and forth between me and the hallway, towards Gracie's room. Then he ran his hand uneasily over his face.

"Fuck, sweetheart, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who always said I shouldn't use sex as a power tool?" he asked, with a slight grin on his face.

Innocently, I shrugged, "I would rather call it an offer."

I could clearly see the struggle in his eyes. "Okay, here's a counterproposal. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable, maybe even take off all those unnecessary clothes you're wearing, and in the meantime, I'll take care of the thing in Gracie's room... Believe me, I'll be with you in no time."

Angry, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, "Forget it, Negan... Either now, or never!"

"Never?" he asked sarcastically, "Darling, we both know that's not true. You need me, just as I need you."

He took a step towards me, and I would have instinctively stepped back, but the stairs were behind me, so I inevitably stood still. Negan's right hand came closer to me, and he began lightly stroking my collarbone with his fingertips, following the movement with his gaze. Of course, he noticed how I almost forgot to breathe under his touch.

"How often do you close your eyes when Steve fucks you and pretend it's me, huh? Tell me, I won't tell anyone..." he whispered.

I shook my head almost imperceptibly and looked at him in disbelief, then he leaned in and whispered with a gentle, gruff voice directly into my ear, "... but it annoys you every time that it doesn't work, that he can't make you feel things, that he can't touch you like I do, right? My darling, I know you better than anyone ever could. I was the first man in you... I'm the only one who has impregnated you twice... And only I can make you come so many times, over and over again."

His words hit me hard, because they held up a mirror to me that I didn't want to see, but at the same time, they sent warm electric shocks through my whole body.

A light slap on my butt brought me back to the present. "Well, off to the damn bedroom," he said firmly.

I grabbed his hand and led him down the dark hallway. After opening the door and turning on the light, I turned expectantly towards him.

"There it is... The same beautiful, slightly nervous smile as our first time." he noted.

29 years ago

While the other girls in my class cut out snippets from fashion magazines and glued them to their walls, my room was wallpapered with posters of various rock bands, and as our classmates tried to get into clubs with fake IDs, my two best friends and I were already thinking of another excuse for our parents to go to the next concert.

For almost two months, I had my first steady boyfriend, and since then, every day was even more adventurous. Not only the fact itself was super exciting, but he was simply the most exciting boy I had ever met. When we first saw each other at a small club concert, I was immediately head over heels in love with this guy that everyone there seemed to know. I was even more surprised when he came straight to me to talk, among all the pretty, older girls. That same evening, we kissed while the band played my favorite song. It wasn't my first kiss, but it was so different from anything I had felt before.

Although he was an absolute chaos and troublemaker who constantly got into fights and arguments, he treated me like a princess from the first moment. There was not a moment in that time when he didn't carry me on his hands and do everything to prove how important I was to him. I knew he had had quite a few, more or less, 'girlfriends' before me and often felt the eyes of the other girls on us when we stood hand in hand at a concert. And that always made me extremely insecure, but he assured me that it was different with me, that I was special.

Since our first meeting, we spent all our free time together.

During the week, we were usually at his house. His family was never there, and we had our peace, while my friends covered for us in front of my parents. So we had enough time to make out, listen to music, and philosophize about everything possible. I had never met a person before who was interested in the chaos in my head. Yes, who even understood it and thought similarly. With each similarity, I fell even more in love with this guy, even though I thought every time that there couldn't possibly be more.

So we were lying together on his bed again. My head was nestled in his armpit, and I watched him smoke while he stared at the ceiling. The fact that he just lit up a cigarette in his room impressed my 16-year-old self immensely.

Suddenly, he looked at me and grinned unmistakably, "You're looking at me as if I were some damn alien or something."

I felt caught, "Not at all... well, maybe a little, you are my boyfriend after all."

I gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. He then withdrew his arm from under my head to position himself sideways and prop himself up on his hand.

"Now you're looking..." I said defiantly, feeling my heart beating even faster.

"You are my girlfriend after all," he said amused and blew the last puff of his cigarette before rolling halfway over me to reach for the ashtray. His body was heavy on me, but I loved feeling him so close. In this position, he looked down at me and whispered softly, "And the most fascinating girl I know."

His gentle words and his strong body on mine evoked feelings in me that I had never experienced before. I wanted more of him.

His hand gently traced my waist, delicately stroking my breasts over my t-shirt. I loved it when he did that. My body trembled with excitement. Then he kissed me, a kiss that quickly intensified.

Suddenly, he rolled off me and pulled me with a swing. Now I was lying on top of him. We smiled at each other. Of course, I could feel how aroused he was by the situation, but I was too. After another kiss, I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Can I ask you something?" he broke the silence after a while.

"Mhh..." I dreamily replied.

"Have you ever pleasured yourself?" he asked bluntly, and I was glad I could bury my face in his shirt so he couldn't see how my cheeks flushed.

"Yes... I mean, yes..." I stammered awkwardly.

"Hey, is it embarrassing for you to admit that in front of me?" he asked, poking me in the ribs with his index finger, making me jump.

I looked up and met his beautiful dark eyes, which meant everything to me. He gently held my chin, so I couldn't lower my gaze.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing in this damn world should be embarrassing for you in front of me, especially not that, understood?" he said so emphatically that I could only whisper an 'okay.'

Reflectively, I bit my lower lip and then said softly, "I... I imagine it's you touching me when I do it..."

His hands trailed down my back and then settled on my buttocks.

"Wow, that's so damn hot," he exclaimed excitedly.

My body trembled slightly as I sat up and decisively took off my top. Now I was just sitting on him in my bra. "I don't want to just imagine it anymore, Negan. I want to sleep with you."

I had imagined so many times what it would be like and every day I thought that something more would finally happen between us than just kissing and a little fooling around. But he never took another step, and I was always too shy. Sometimes I even started to doubt myself because I heard stories from all sides about who Negan had supposedly slept with before me. But the Negan I knew was totally different from all those stories circulating about him.

"Do you really want that?" he asked cautiously, but I nodded decisively and opened my bra.

Negan's eyes wandered between my naked breasts and my face. "Fuck, you're incredibly beautiful... I just don't know what I did to deserve you..."

I leaned in towards him, and as soon as our lips met, a wild, passionate kiss ensued.

Negan rolled over again, so I was lying beneath him, then he took off his t-shirt and continued kissing me. Slowly, he pulled away from me and looked deeply into my eyes, while our noses almost touched.

"Please tell me if you don't like something, promise me... I'll stop immediately if anything makes you uncomfortable," he said decisively, his lips wandering over my jaw, slowly moving to my neck.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling on my bare skin. I loved it and at the same time, I felt a little scared because I was about to have my first time. What if it changed everything between Negan and me? I wanted it more than anything, but at the same time, I had doubts about whether it might ruin everything.

His kisses moved tentatively to my right breast. For the first time, I felt his lips on my delicate skin, and it immediately gave me goosebumps. My nipples hardened, even though I was feeling incredibly warm. My lower body tens ed up, sending tingles throughout my entire body. Restrained, I moaned as his tongue touched my nipple. He circled it slowly, making it so hard that it almost hurt. Then he gently sucked on it. He repeated the same with my left breast, and my upper body arched towards him. He looked up at me happily, "Baby, hearing those sweet sounds from you catapults me straight to paradise; no one on this planet is even close to being as sexy as you."

At his words, I couldn't help but smile and relax a bit more. His fingers lightly trailed down my ribs, tickling me in some places, making me twitch. Eventually, he reached the waistband of my pants and pulled them down slightly. He looked at me questioningly, and I nodded decisively, lifting my hips so he could pull down my jeans and panties unhindered. Now it was time; I lay completely naked before him, my thighs pressed together nervously.

"My princess, to make it feel good for you, you need to relax," he said, gently guiding his fingers down my inner thigh and slightly pushing my legs apart, just enough for his hand to fit between them. My heart raced, and I felt the blood pumping through my veins.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you, I promise! Just like I'll always take care of you," he said emphatically, looking into my eyes as his fingers gently touched my most intimate part. He ran his fingertips over it and then very lightly between my labia. Everything in me tingled like crazy, like the feeling of being in love, intensified a thousand times.

I closed my eyes, pushed my hips towards him, and at the same time, slightly spread my legs further apart.

Negan placed his large, warm hand on my lower abdomen while his right hand thoroughly explored my vulva. When he briefly touched my clitoris, I saw stars before my eyes; the feeling was incredible and incomparable. I felt one of his fingers circling around my entrance.

"Every inch of your body is perfect," he whispered, then slowly pushed his finger into me, kissing my knee, which was slightly trembling and bent next to him. When he added a second finger, I felt myself tightening around him.

"Does that feel good?" he asked confidently.

And my "Yes" came out louder than I had planned. I opened my eyes and saw him proudly grinning.

Unexpectedly, he leaned between my legs and placed a warm, wet kiss directly on my mound. Surprised, I reflexively closed my legs, holding his head. Only when the kiss ended did I relax again, and my boyfriend crawled over me to give me another kiss directly on my lips.

"You can tell me to stop at any time!" he said, looking deeply into my eyes as if searching for an answer.

"I trust you, Negan!" I replied, smiling at him somewhat unsure.

He immediately kissed my nose and then leaned over to the nightstand to get a condom. I didn't care that he had probably been with a hundred other girls in this bed; at that moment, I felt I was special to him. That everything was special. That we were special.

Negan took off his pants and boxers and positioned himself between my legs. I was so excited that I could barely look at his penis. Of course, I had seen male genitalia before; I knew what guys looked like down there. But in this situation, it was something completely different.

"You can touch it," Negan said amused, taking my hand to place it on his hard penis. My fingers gently stroked his hardness, and I watched as Negan followed each of my movements with his eyes.

After a short time, he took my hand and brought it to his mouth to place soft kisses on it. Then he placed it on his hip bone. "If anything is uncomfortable or goes too fast, just push me back... understood?"

I nodded nervously as he put on the condom. However, my hand on his hip wasn't even necessary. When he entered me, he was so gentle and patient that it just felt amazing. He leaned over me, placing soft kisses on my neck as he slid deeper into me. Then he whispered in my ear, telling me how beautiful I was and how good I felt.

When he was fully inside me, he paused in position, whispering so softly that I could barely hear, "I love you."

[maxislvt]

Let It Snow

Summary: Christmas eve trapped with your least favorite teammate

Warnings: Smut, omegaverse, omega Wanda, dubious consent, oral sex (r receiving), vaginal sex, knotting

A/N: Yes, two smut fics in a row have been omegaverse. No, I do not have a problem.

Event Masterlist

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

No one will say it publicly, but being an Avenger comes with a lot of tense and awkward interactions among teammates. You all shared one goal of saving the world and protecting those who needed protecting, not everyone could agree on what that looked like. As if that weren't enough, the different ranks amongst the team made this even worse. Whether it was worth it to fight an enemy convoy to stop a terrorist organization from getting weapons if it meant endangering a local town was a tense argument on its own, having two alphas constantly trying to outperform each other only made it worse. Maybe two omegas would have the misfortune of being on their heat at the same time and were constantly ready to rip each other's heads off for alpha attention.

Sometimes things would get tense behind closed doors and you absolutely hated it. Which is why you chose to suppress yourself as much as you reasonably could. The whole team knew you were an alpha, that much you would be honest about, but you refused to do anything else. They didn't need to know when your rut started or what your real scent was, they just needed to know you were a dependable teammate with the skills to back it up. However, not everyone seemed to appreciate that kindness and general neutrality. Many of the agents talked behind your back and looked down upon you for being so passive, but you simply brushed them off. Most of them were you subordinates and were jealous. 

Ignoring petty underlings was easy, but you can't exactly avoid such tensions with teammates. You didn't even want to. It satisfied you more to talk things out and reach understanding, but one Avenger in particular didn't want to talk it out. Wanda had been a little standoffish at first. Pietro, her brother, was much more outgoing. You noticed how Wanda tended to hide behind her brother and tried your best to talk to her directly, but that seemed to be the start of all your problems. The first few conversations you two had were nice and sweet, but after some months Wanda had just turned sour on you. You couldn't figure out why. Everyone could see it. The snarky comments, the eye rolls, and the annoyed groans every time you dared to say a word. You were determined to fix it. 

You decided to wait and give Wanda space. The time to talk would come. Either she would approach you or someone would force her to. In a way you were right. After weeks of avoiding her, the two of you were forced to do a mission together. Normally, missions weren't a good time for heartfelt conversations. People in stress may not want to immediately open up and adrenaline makes focusing difficult for most people. However, you and Wanda were stuck in the safe until a snowstorm had passed. If you didn't talk to Wanda immediately, you'd never get the chance to again. 

You tried to be as conscious of the situation as possible. Omegas needed to nest more during cold seasons and Wanda couldn't do that thousands of miles away from her room. In a rush to keep her comfortable, you'd given her the master bedroom and just about every pillow and cushion you could find. You'd even gone the extra mile of scenting it to help her relax. 

"Hey, Wanda." Your voice was soft when you spoke. It was like approaching a wild beast. There was no telling how she'd respond to you. Sometimes she'd simply scoff and walk away, other times she was liable to just explode and degrade you for something you couldn't understand. "I know we aren't exactly friends — and we don't have to be — but I'm worried this tension is going to affect the mission and I don't want that."

Wanda raised her head from the pile of blankets. For a moment, she just stared at you. It was that same stupid posture you always had. Shoulders relaxed, back straight, and the kindest smile she'd ever seen. It pissed Wanda off how soft you were. So passive and careful about everything. Alphas weren't supposed to be that way. "Maybe if you'd just take charge for once, we wouldn't have any issues." 

"I can't just give out orders without some sort of relationship between us. That's just not my style." A frown began to form on your face. "This is a time sensitive mission and it's not going to go well if all you do is huff and roll your eyes when I talk to you." As if you didn't have enough evidence to prove your point, Wanda decided to do exactly what you accused her of. "Okay fine, but if anything goes wrong I'm putting it on your record." Despite your anger, you left as quietly as possible. You couldn't let her get under your skin. Not with so much at stake. 

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

It seemed being the bigger person wasn't the way to go with Wanda. Though the mission was successful, you were unreasonably stressed the entire time. Wanda barely responded to you and constantly made moves without alerting you. All you wanted to do was go home, but you couldn't even do that. A heavy snowstorm was rolling through the area and take off was impossible. 

Fury promised to have you and Wanda back at the tower for Christmas, but that wasn't your concern. You had run out of suppressants and the pills wouldn't last more than a few hours. Meaning you were stuck spending the next three days extremely volatile with the most agitating omega you'd ever met. You had enough self control not to hurt her, but that was the last thing you needed. 

Avoiding her seemed easy enough. Wanda had resorted to stress nesting and rarely left her room. That meant you had more than enough time to get food and then alleviate yourself.

Unfortunately, you were your own worst enemy. Sensitivity had made you twice as vocal as usual and Wanda had heard you. Your soft whimpers and desperate pleas to seemingly no one had woken her up in the middle of the night. Wanda ignored you at first but your scent had practically flooded the house. Your shyness had forced her hand. 

You were too busy desperately rutting into your own hand to notice that you failed to close your door all the way. It didn't even cross your mind that the presence of another scent meant Wanda was close by. Instead, you focused on chasing an unsatisfying orgasm. 

Wanda sighed watching you try to please yourself. "You're so pathetic. Most alphas would've pounced on me, but here you are humping a pillow and using your left hand." Despite her cruel words, she took pity on you. She crawled onto your bed and forced you to lay on your back. "All that hard work and training, but you still need an omega to take care of you."

It was wrong, that much your brain could understand. Wanda had been nothing but cruel and unreasonable to you. You had every right to push her off and yell, but you didn't want to. The feeling of her hand wrapped around your dick was too good. "F-fuck you," You moaned out. Another moan filled the room as Wanda wrapped her mouth around your tip. 

"We'll get there, but you have to be patient." Wanda gently squeezed the base of your cock before slipping it inside her mouth. It was like a dream come true. She finally had exposed you for what you really were, submissive and needy. Wanda was irritated by how many people mindlessly praised you for your hard work and determination. She could see right through your little facade. Deep down, you were nothing but a little alpha pup desperately in need of training. "If you don't stop moving, I'll tie you down." 

Your hips continued to squirm and cant up despite her warning. No one could be blamed for the hot red magic that wrapped around your waist but yourself. "Please, it feels so good." Everything felt so hot. Wanda managed to take every inch of you in her mouth and you were on the brink of another orgasm. "Wait, fuck, stop!" The second you moved your hands to push Wanda's head up, they were tied together with magic. 

Wanda boldly took all your cum down her throat. She swallowed what she could and let the rest dribble down her lips and chin. "Oh, you really needed that, huh?" Her voice had grown husky with lust. A million thoughts ran through her head on what to do with you. "You poor thing. I bet it was so hard acting tough when all you are is a mindless piece of meat." She ignored your upset whines and took off her pajama bottoms. 

You could feel the heat radiating from Wanda's cunt. If you hadn't been so desperate and mindless, you would've mouthed off about all the slick dripping from her. You knew better. Wanda was in control and you were entirely at her mercy. If you wanted to cum, you'd be a good alpha and let her do whatever she wanted. "Please, please. It hurts so bad, I need your help."

Wanda smirked. She hovered over your length, dragging the tip up and down her slit. "Hm, fine. You have to promise me something though." It wasn't fair to make promises with the state you were in, but she couldn't help herself. "Promise me you won't let anyone else help you with your rut." 

You nodded frantically. "I promise, no one else but you!" You let out a satisfied sigh once Wanda began sliding down your length. She wasted no time riding you. The magic around your waist tightened the second your started squirm again. "Sorry — ah, that feels so good!" Your wrists instinctively tugged at the magical binds keeping your hands together. "I can't hold it! Please, please, please!"

Wanda let out a sharp moan as your knot began stretching her out. "Go ahead, fill me up like a good alpha." Your knot was almost too big for Wanda to take. She had horribly underestimated how long you'd been suppressing yourself and could barely hold all your cum inside. "That's a good alpha, make your omega feel full." 

There'd be a number of things you two would have to deal with once you got back to the tower, but neither of you seemed to care. You wanted to feel good and Wanda was determined to claim you.

[hannahssimblr]

As the stars rise over the fields, I find the others at the edges of a new, growing crowd. It has been a day of wandering, mostly solo, save for the groups of people I met here and there. Those who I bantered with for the duration of a gig, while bumming cigarettes and pretending my name was Gary, for no other reason than the fact that I could, and nobody can stop me from doing what I want. 

It’s by chance that I find my friends, my real ones, the ones who know my name is Jude, and would berate me endlessly for making up pointless lies about my identity, but by then, I have drunk enough to have lost count of how many beers passed through my hands. At one stage I did shots too, out of the plastic cap of some girl’s moisturiser bottle back at a tent surrounded by discarded whippit canisters. They offered me those too, whippits, but I declined, and slipped away, bored, when they all indulged and lay on the grass hallucinating. 

Now, around nine, when the lights come on and the bonfires have been lit, my vision is hazy and my stomach warmed with alcohol. I am not drunk. The day is long, and I have burned most of the alcohol off, but I am somewhere close to the edge, and one more will knock me over it. 

“He wants us to see an EDM band,” Jen cries the moment she sees me. She grabs my arm and pulls me into her discussion with Kasper. “Jimmy Eat World is on the other stage in, like, twenty minutes.”

I do not care. Evie is standing there, and all the glitter I watched Claire lovingly put onto her lids earlier has migrated to her cheekbones. She’s literally sparkling under the floodlights, and the alcohol must have softened my self restraint more than I realised, because I stare at her so brazenly that I’m sure she’ll feel my gaze like an entity. 

She doesn’t look back. 

While Kasper tries to convince her of the merits of this specific EDM band, I watch her smile and nod with polite enthusiasm, mirroring her expressions. She’s like that, I decide. She’s easily convinced, and seems to go along with things for the sake of avoiding argument. Convince her he does, and he pats an enthused hand upon her on the back. “Yes! Good, good!” he says, and the decision is made. I’ll go where she goes. 

I follow them into the crowd as Jen grumbles on my heels. I tell her to shut up.  

The buzz of the nighttime audience is different. With the smell of smoke and burning wood permeating the air, we cram ourselves into pockets of space between other bodies, among the sweat and sun cream, the sharp scent of nicotine and alcohol seeping from pores. Hands go into the air with the red lights from the stage, jangling with beads and bands, nail varnish that glows neon in the dark, and the group is hustled apart, once again, by an emergence of excited fans. I stay with Evie.

A guy who wrangles a spot beside me produces a packet of cigarettes, and I know it’s all the beers I’ve had, but I crave one more than I crave water in this heatwave. I nudge him. 

“Can I bum one?”

“Yeah,” he says, and I slip one into my hand. The crowd begins to bump and sway with the building music as the DJ takes the stage. I don’t know this kind of music, I can’t tell whether it’s good or bad, but I understand something I hadn’t before as I surrender to the crowd and move with them. Shutting my eyes, consumed by the noise and the lights that flash beyond my lids. I’m caught in a wave. 

Yet I never lose Evie. Even when I open my eyes, I’m always with her, like some part of me knows to find her with no need sight to do it. She’s swaying too, loose, and the ends of her hair wet and sticking to her face. Her skin glows with all of that wild light from the stage, the reds and greens and blues. She’s colour, and light and sound and she’s so gorgeous that my chest aches.  

I touch her neck, curling my hand around the back of it and drawing her ear to my mouth. “You okay?”

“It’s amazing.” She bellows. “I wish I could see more.”

“C’mere,” and because my brain can only conceive of new ways to touch her, I bend to nudge the back of her knees with my head.

“What are you doing?”

I have to laugh. “Get on my shoulders.” 

She does, and I lift her above me into the sky, where she sits higher than everyone, ascended like some holy being. Her fingers wind in my hair before she throws her hands up, and all I can think, as I hold on to her legs, is that lingering, shiver-inducing scrape of her nails, and all those things I said in the woods. 

Do I love her? Is that true? How can I know? The thoughts replay in an incessant loop as the music thuds through the earth under my feet. God, will I enjoy any music at this festival or will I spend the whole thing thinking about my feelings?

Weed Alison’s voice replays: “Experience love.” 

Then imaginary Jen is there too. “Be wise.” 

The real Jen is dancing wildly with a crowd of strangers in my eyeline, reluctantly enjoying herself. She catches my eye, smiles and shrugs, caught red-handed. She lifts her camera and snaps a photo of us, me and Evie. 

Someone lights my cigarette for me, and I smoke it in bliss, before passing it to Evie. Her mouth touches the place where my mouth was, and I imagine she’s thinking about that too as she takes a luxurious drag and breathes a lungful of smoke right up into the darkening sky. 

I know then that I’m going to kiss her. It’s an inevitability, impossible to stop, and I want to. God, I simply want to, so badly. She’s like some sort of angel up there. And she is so beautiful. Does she know it? Surely she must. She must see the way people look at her, the heads that turn when she passes. All of us are the fools that can’t help but stare at her perfect face. 

And these thoughts linger, so strong and so real that I know I cannot ignore them anymore, and that it is just a matter of waiting now, waiting for the music to stop, for the lights to go off and for her to climb down and let me look at her again. 

It does, the music, it ends, and the crowd disperses around us. Evie climes down my back, and with wild eyes she looks right into mine, from one to the other and back again. My heart is thumping. 

“Do you want to come with me to the trees?” She says, and I do not have a clue what she’s talking about. We are in a field. There are trees everywhere, but yes, I’ll go to the trees if that’s what she wants. 

She grabs my hand and I follow her through the last of the crowd to the barriers where people piles against the exit. There, a tangle of bodies catches us, and then somehow I’m leading her instead, hand in hand, heading away from all the other people to somewhere quiet. I don’t care where. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG chapter

[n1ghtwr1ter]

A Knight’s Tale Griddlehark AU where Gideon is a commoner squire whose knight, Aiglamene, has been rendered unable to compete (leg incident) and decides in a moment of desperation to take her place in the lists. After meeting with unexpected success, she and her compatriots (Isaac and Jeannemarie as her fellow squires; Palamedes as their herald) begin to make their way through the tournament circuit, hoping to escape desperate poverty, find glory and riches, and change their fates.

Along the way they meet Harrowhark, Lady of the Ninth, unwillingly attending the jousts at the behest of her parents in hopes of finding someone who will rescue her dying House (by marriage if her parents have their way; by funding Harrow’s experiments if she has hers). She gets into an argument with an idiot of a red-haired knight who follows her into a church, of all places, just so they can keep fighting. Despite sending her packing with her sharp-edged tongue, Harrow can’t seem to forget Sir Griddle (which is all she managed to choke out for a name before she got unceremoniously thrown out of the building).

While being courted at the lists by Princess Ianthe of the Third (whom she finds personally repellant, but her fortune is exactly what is needed to restore the Ninth), Harrow is brought face to face with Sir Griddle yet again. This time, it’s a three-way verbal sparring match, and Harrow is left unable to decide which one she hates most. But as the tournament progresses, she is forced grudgingly to admit that Sir Griddle is “something else with that lance.” (Let alone the sword, which our Gideon wins handily, but chooses (like a true idiot) to focus on the joust, which decides the winner of the tournament.)

She is narrowly defeated by Count Ianthe, whose technique is far better than her own (having had years of training to Gideon’s, what, three months?). Griddle is about to slink off in fury but then Harrow’s ancient seneschal shows up, demanding to know the color of Griddle’s tunic for the dance that evening (Harrow having decided that the one person she despises more than Griddle is Ianthe, and the best way to annoy her will be to show up dressed in matching courtly wear).

Gideon, annoyed that Harrow is putting her on the spot, decides to attend despite not knowing how to dance. As luck would have it, Palamedes has met up with his cousin, who’s been working as a blacksmith; Cam shows them the basics, then goes off with Pal in a huddle to design next-gen armor that will fit Gideon much better than Aiglamene’s cast-offs. Harrow and Gideon share a surprisingly sexy dance, pissing Ianthe off to no end and leaving each other in a furious state of “oh no, she’s hot.”

Due to Gideon’s determination, Cam’s genius at smithing (and as Gideon’s new training partner, who regularly kicks her ass), and Palamedes’s over-the-top heraldic intros, Gideon begins to make a name for herself, winning tournaments all over the country. She even decides to joust against a mystery knight, even after discovering that she’s the Crown Princess of the Third in disguise, winning herself Coronabeth’s respect.

Just as she’s about to face Ianthe in the finals, the Princess of Ida is called back to her homeland to fight in their war. Discontented with her default victory, Gideon has a nasty fight with Harrow, who tells her to fuck off. Gideon decides to return to her own home country in search of a championship there, and also to find the annoyingly hot noblewoman who won’t stop needling her (and haunting her increasingly sweaty dreams).

Etc. etc.

Additional details include:

Gideon can’t stop laughing at her own lance-related dick jokes.

When Ianthe thinks she’s got Gideon disqualified from the championships by exposing her for being a commoner, Harrow’s been cooking up some genealogical research and it turns out that Gideon is…actually the child of King John of Gaius, and heir to the throne! So suck my royal dick, Tridentarius.

Harrow’s research concerns, among many other things, the use of bone meal as crop fertilizer/pest repellent to lift the famine that has decimated the Ninth House. Because the Ninth House has more corpses than any other sort of natural resource, she’s got a lot of material to work with.

Ianthe’s herald is Babs.

Aiglamene is back home nursing her lack of leg, but she is fully aware of the nonsense her squires are getting up to (despite their utterly ham-fisted attempts to keep it from her). She figures that holding her tongue won’t hurt, but Harrow will send a very resentful Crux to fetch her to the capitol so she can watch Gideon win the championship.

In the original Knight’s Tale, Jocelyn (female love interest) has a very lovely and smart handmaiden to advise her and act as a go-between.

Harrow’s handmaiden is Crux.

[valiantroeagleangel]

Body wash.

Will Ramos x female reader.

Fluff, bath, comfort.

From the sweet request: "We love post tour Will, so I was wondering, how about a nice, long bath with our favorite puppy boy? Will’s love language is touch and after a long tour that’s the one thing he needs the most to be able to relax. I can already see it: Will and his love in the bathtub (think of it Pretty Woman style - god I watched that movie way too many times when I was growing up lol). She’s delicately applying a hydrating mask on his curly hair, carefully untangling the knots, then slowly washing his body…*sigh* what a wonderful day that’d be."

Mama's tag list: @circle-with-me @malice-ov-mercy @darkhallcorner @loeytuan98 @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @emzandthevoid

Will's body was hot against yours, his skin slipping as his back hit your chest. Gently you started to massage his shoulders, hoping it would help him relax a little. Will's last few days have been rough and you hoped a hot bath would soothe him, even if it was for some minutes.

Softly he leaned more on your body, allowing the hot water to embrace more of his body. A little bit of music ran in the back, it was so low that you weren't even sure of what was playing but it was enough to distract his mind as he started to strum on the ceramic of the bathtub, all in rhythm.

He was feeling good between your arms, your presence was the only thing that could calm him down almost immediately. He loved his job but sometimes it got him so frustrated, among the arguments he could have with the other guys, the tour or the way the song wasn't turning how he wanted it to. Will loved his job and he knew how lucky he was to be able to have a very decent life thanks to it but sometimes, despite all of that, the only thing he wanted was to go home and feel you close. He wanted you to cuddle him, to tell him that everything would be alright, that he was doing a good job and that you loved him. That was what he longed for.

"Are you feeling better?" You asked when Will tilted his head back to let it rest on one of your shoulders.

He only hummed at you as a form of answer. His eyes closed for a second and he let your hands wander on his torso. Slowly, you brushed your fingers against his pectorals and Will sighed in pleasure as chills settled on his skin. His wet hair fell on his nape and the messy curls tickled your own chest

"You know-" He started then paused, taking one of your hands in his to admire your fingers. "I'm really grateful that you're here with me. Thank you."

You intertwined your fingers with his, twisting your hands as you kissed his temple. "And I'm really grateful that you're here with me."

Another silent moment passed while he played with your fingers, losing himself in his thoughts. "Do you want to tell me what's bugging you?" You asked and he sighed, dropping your hands back to the water.

"It's dumb. We fought at the end of the tour about a song and the way we performed it live." He sighed, his mood dropping. "It doesn't really matter now that it ended."

You wanted to ask more but felt that Will wasn't ready to talk about it. Touring was always hard on him. He loved it but these kinds of fights were ruining everybody's experience and he hated it. You wanted to give him your support but with the little pieces of information you had, you did not want to say something stupid or devoid of meaning.

"It'll pass Will. Don't worry too much about it." You tried to speak in a tender voice, to bring any kind of comfort, to let him know that you were here with him no matter what but it didn't seem like it was enough. Will hummed at you once again, his mind back to the racing.

Softly you kept leaving kisses on his temple as he allowed himself to let go of some tension, his body deepening more on yours.

"Want me to wash your hair?" You asked, your hands already reaching for the curls to start massaging his scalp.

"Yes please." He breathed out, closing his eyes in, his head tilted back to allow you a better access.

Still in silence, you grabbed the shampoo bottle next to you to pour some into your hands. The scent of it came rapidly to your nose and made you smile. You loved Will's shampoo, it smelled so good, it smelled like him. All of it was so comforting.

Your hands back on his head you cautiously washed his hair, giving it a quick massage. Will couldn't help but sigh every time you applied more pressure on some untouched part of his skull and you smiled to yourself, happy to see him finally give in and enjoy the moment without hating on himself.

Once you carefully rinsed the soap you leaned on to grab the hair mask on the other side of the tub, Will's body following you. Back against the ceramic he immediately laid back on you, as if he couldn't endure the distance between your two bodies.

Even if the water was growing cold his skin was still so hot on you, it was keeping you so warm that you worried he might be freezing. You hesitated to question him, not wanting to ruin the moment or bring it to an end but Will finally looked so comfortable that you did not even bother to ask.

The mask in hand you started to apply it to the end of his hair, carefully fighting with the curls and the mess they created. Everything was tangled and you were glad it wasn't on your head because you wouldn't have the patience to work it out on you. But the soft smile Will had plastered on his lips was enough to motivate you to untangle all the knots on his hand, hydrating his curls. You loved how good he was at taking care of his hair. He was really invested in it and you couldn't find that more adorable.

Some minutes later you successfully finished your art. Will's hair fell perfectly on his nape, the curls being defined and smooth as you liked them. When you let go of him he turned in the bathtub, his body now facing you.

Gently he leaned on for a kiss, his lips brushing yours delicately. You smiled into the kiss as he pressed himself more on you. "Thank you." It's all he whispered before grabbing the body wash. "Come here, I'll wash your back."

It was your turn to switch positions, your body now addressing the tiles of the wall as Will's hand gained your back. The soap was cold, giving you goosebumps. Will noticed it and immediately brought his lips to your shoulders, kissing them as he brushed your skin with his hot breath. "Are you cold?"

You only nodded and he pulled you closer to him. It was not convenient to wash your back but his hot torso was heating you a bit. Still, despite the position, his hands travelled your skin. He insisted on your ribcage and on the knot on your shoulders. Gently he rubbed his hands on all of your back, caressing, as much as he could, every part of you.

When he judged it was enough, and that he saw the chills getting back to your skin, he rinsed it all out, the hot water burning on your now frozen body.

"Let me grab you a towel first, hm." In a quick motion, he got himself out of the bath, swamping the floor with the water that dropped from his body. You wanted to warn him but it was too late, he already had covered all the bathroom in water.

When he got back to the tub he spread his arms with the fabric in it, waiting for you to jump in so he could roll you in it. In a second he got you tugged like a burrito which made you question the size of the towel as you didn't record yours to be big enough to roll someone entirely in it. But you didn't ask, Will was way too happy with his work for you to bother him.

When he finally deigned to cover himself you noticed how greasy his hair was. "Will! We didn't rinse the mask out of your hair, it's going to be crunchy when it dries."

You laughed and Will looked at his reflection in the mirror.

"Damn, and I thought my hair was looking extra handsome tonight." He faked a disappointment as he bent quickly over the bathtub. "Are you helping me or do you plan to let me drown?"

Desperate he tried to wash it off, water falling all over his face. Still mocking him you came to his height, taking over to help him even if you died to take advantage of the situation and splash water on him.

But you didn't try, his mood was not the best tonight and you did not want to bring it even more down. He needed your help, your presence and your comfort, not for you to tease him.

In the end, the rest of the evening was quite calm. Will's hair perfectly clean and styled you both headed to your activities and then to bed. His body curled over yours he hugged you tightly, afraid that you might disappear in the night, as he fell asleep peacefully in your embrace.

[picturejasper20]

A lot of people in the phandom talk about how Season 3 was when Danny Phantom went downfall, and while i agree with the idea, i believe that the series was starting to show some of these cracks in Season 2 that later collapsed on Season 3.

For starters, we have the Season 2 first episode ¨Memory Blank¨, whose main purpose was to give Danny a logo in his suit so they had to make the portal explode on him again. It is an episode that doesn't much sense in the timeline and it is very confusing. It doesn't change much aside from Danny having a logo.

Later we have episodes like ¨Reign Storm¨ and ¨The Ultimate Enemy¨, considered to be the peak episodes from the series by many for a reason. The issue with these episodes is that they were setting up for pretty interesting things- but they never had a proper paid off. I have talked before about how the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire never appear again after Reign Storm in spite of how important they were. There isn't any mention of them in the episodes that followed. The same goes to The Ultimate Enemy, a mutual of mine, @pedanticat, pointed out how the special was setting up for Clockwork to be a mentor figure for Danny, which didn't get much followed except for a later episode.

While "The Fright Before Christmas" has some good moments, it is frustrating how Danny has to put up with Jack and Maddie's childish argument that ruins for him and Jazz what should be a special time of the year. It is quite gross that a 14 year old teenager has to deal with something like this and the adults are never called out for it.

I do enjoy "Secret Weapons" a lot but one main issue it has is that it semi rewrites Jazz's character, making her be incompetent at ghost hunting when in previous episodes (My Brother's Keeper and Maternal Instincs) and later ones she isn't seen having this same kind of issue with using fenton gadgets. I believe it was written like this so the status quo wouldn't change much in the show.

From here is where things start to get more messy, with "Beauty Marked" having very cool things but giving a mixed message regarding gender (potraying all girls who like fashion and buy clothes as brainless and Sam being the only girl who is clever). Not terrible since it still fun to watch but questionable in message.

"Masters of All Time": Another dumb alternative plotline episode that doesn't add much to the series and was a whole wasted of opportunity of showing how Jack and Maddie's relationship with Vlad used to be before the proto-portal accident. Pretty insulting to previous characterization established for Vlad as antagonist among of a lot other weird messages and implications. Not much else to add that hasn't been said before in my blog or by some of my DP mutuals.

"Double Cross My Heart": I don't remember a lot of this one but i do know i didn't like the whole idea of Danny stalking Sam + ¨If someone else that isn't Danny likes Sam, it means that they are faking it¨. I do know that as whole this appears to be one of the most disliked episodes from the series.

"Reality Trip": Looking back this episode has a lot of really cool things, specially some exploration of Freakshow's characterization and Jack and Maddie as parents. The GIW being main antagonists is great too. The whole problem that brings this whole special down is that the events that take place don't have any real impact and most of the characters, including Jack and Maddie, lost their memories of learning about Danny's identity as Phantom. This has to be one of the most insulting moves the series did, all because for the sake of keeping the main status quo. It makes me wonder why Kindred Spirits couldn't have been the double part episode instead, since it is related to one of main plotlines (Why Vlad gave Valerie all that gear) and is about one of the main antagonists (Vlad Masters), something that was a lot more important that Freakshow.

As you can see, Season 2 was already starting to show problems that later defined the writing of Season 3. You have things like inconsistent characterization (From Secret Weapons to Masters of All Time), lack of proper continuity ( What i already said of Reign Storm ending and also Valerie not having a major role after Flirting With Disaster) and episodes with weird timeline plotlines that go nowhere and don't have a real impact. (Memory Blank, Masters of All Time and Reality Trip) It is a season that, aside from the first episode, it stays pretty well until the first half, then in the second half it kinda falls apart, with having some episodes that are pretty solid and others that are a mess for different reasons.

[mhsdatgo]

I’m going to be petty for a moment after reading that anon post and say for all of Team Black’s experience and all of their dragons they had devoted to their cause and their far more experienced dragon riders… how many of these Dragons did these 3 green boys take out?

2 of them were teenagers. 2 of them rode fairly young Dragons, Daemon in the show doesn’t even count Tessarion among the greens adult Dragons. 1 of them had the greasiest bond in history with his Dragon, stronger than any rider and Dragon bond on team black.

For all of team black’s alleged experience, the war was certainly not an easy one like they thought it would be and the King whose name is written into history is Aegon II. Rhaenyra remained a Princess.

Indeed the Greens did clown them a bit, especially Daeron with small baby Tessarion did the most out of the Targtowers IMO. (Even if he died in a tent. My poor boy.)

I do hate the argument that Alicent's children are less Targaryen because "their eggs didn't hatch." While we don't even know if they had eggs in the first place. They act like since Jaehaerys and Alysanne and some other kids were put eggs in their cradles then it happens to everyone, like no.

It doesn't happen that much. The Conquerors did not have a cradle egg. Their sons and Rhaena didn't have a cradle egg, Dreamfyre was a hatchling that was given to her at 9. Daemon and Viserys did not have a cradle egg. Aerea and Rhaella didn't have that either. And that's just a few.

I've never heard anyone say they weren't "true" Targaryens because of it. (And don't even try to pull that tradition stuff on me.) You don't need a certain % of blood to be able to have a dragon.

On Aegon II being remembered as King I've got another way of thinking. Both of the Teams managed to get to each other's goal but never their own. The blacks wanted Rhaenyra to sit the throne and be remembered as Queen but Aegon did that instead. The greens wanted their bloodline to survive but Rhaenyra's son sat the throne instead.

[icedroppedinparasolcider]

Thoughts on ena? Feel free to yap as much as you did in three shizuku one!

so, fun fact about me! i was an ena oshi from like. On This Blank Canvas, I Paint ensekai release to about Say Goodbye to Masked Me jpsekai release, when kanade took the crown (it's since ended up in airi's hands, if not obvious). so i have an absolute ton of stuff i could say about ena and figuring out where to even begin is always the hardest part of all of this. i won't even give myself a direction here i'm just gonna stream of consciousness this.

shinonome ena was probably the first character i got genuinely attached to among the cast, and while most of my thoughts and attention have strayed to other characters, she still remains someone i get incredibly insane about (frankly the entire cast does this to me, but ena is one of the highlight characters of this). and a lot of it comes from my reading of On This Blank Canvas, I Paint when it released on ensekai, because that event not only changed ena for me, but how i view the entire game and its story. that event changed my brain chemistry and nothing deserves the claim more than it.

prior to that event, i looked at ena like i do most "mean" characters, with a sort of dismissive attitude due to generally not being a fan of the archetype and the way many pieces of media write them (other fandoms i was part of before prsk largely ruined it for me). but that event, and ena herself completely changed my entire perspective on the character archetype as a whole, and while i still wouldn't say it's my favourite, i am far from dismissive of the character type and many of my favourites from other medias exist within it because i'm actually paying attention to why they're like this. On This Blank Canvas, I Paint was my first exposure to the why, and i've never been able to look away since.

while there's arguments to be made of this factor for every person in it, i personally stand at the opinion that ena is the representation of everything the solid heart class stands for. akito is really close, and he's in contention, but i'll get more into akito later on because there's so much i need to say about their relationship, their parallels, the roles they have in each other's lives and the reflection of these roles onto the people around them. but with solid heart in general, i think that ena exists as an epitome of everything they are, and the fact everyone except ena in-world is able to recognise that only further pushes my point. because unlike akito, ena believes herself a coward on top of being inadequate. she doesn't recognise the strength it requires to keep pushing forward through all this pain, she thinks herself weak for even experiencing it at all. while akito believes himself (at least up to BURN MY SOUL) inferior to his peers, there's not really a moment where he looks at himself as weak for struggling. he simply pushes forward, and Find a Way Out and BURN MY SOUL is the recognition that that is what gives him his power. ena doesn't even consider that possibility until Knowing the Unseen, when she learns about what her father went through.

solid heart is defined by its determination and unflinching will to improve and chase their dreams no matter who or what gets in their way. shiho continuing to practice and search for a band after convincing herself she's better off solo; airi's constant drive to be a better idol and reach the heights she set for herself; akito's refusal to back down from the unbreakable wall of rad weekend despite the entire town telling him he can't do it; nene's constant push through her story to be an actress worthy of the dreams she has. ena is just part of this, chasing the dream that is her art and the desire to garner a following from it, make a career out of it like her father has. she doesn't attach her name to the works of 25ji because she doesn't want its popularity to be the reason her artwork succeeds, she wants the effort and beauty she captures on the canvas to speak for itself. everyone in solid heart carries that wish, for their work to speak for itself, to not take shortcuts on the path to their dreams. most of them aren't offered many opportunities for it to happen, it's really just shiho and ena who have that chance; shiho with the entire event of Resonate with You and ena's combination of being the daughter of a famous artist and the illustrator for a growing musical group. but both of them turn down those short-cuts in the end, because it wouldn't be their dream as they wish it. shiho wouldn't be standing by the sides of those they made that promise with, and ena wouldn't feel like the success is actually hers at all, but rather the success of whatever name she's leaning on.

you can actually see this part of ena in a scene unrelated to her artwork, in Someday, This Wish will Transcend the Morning Sky. when mafuyu gets a call from her mother and ena decides to take over the conversation, there's a moment in it where ena thinks how she'd rather not bring him into the equation right before mentioning her father's name. she doesn't want to be associated with him, for any reason; both because of her problems with shin'ei as a person and her reservations with using the benefits she has through nepotism. she's fully aware she has that advantage, and does whatever she can to separate herself from her father to avoid having it. because it wouldn't feel like it's actually her success. it would feel like her father's success rubbing off on her.

yet, to bring this back to solid heart, despite the struggle she's facing to make a name for herself as an artist and the immense pain she faces trying to improve herself as an artist and a person, she doesn't quit. she nearly has, plenty of times; it's mentioned several times in early stories how often akito would have to step in to stop ena from throwing away and/or breaking all her art supplies and tools during her fits of anger, because he understands how important this venture is to her. he's solid heart too, his equivalent is the music he makes and performs in vivid street. he knows, firsthand, how precious the passion she has for art is, because he's been given that same drive and purpose for a different artform. ena didn't let him give up when he quit soccer, so he won't let her give up. however he can manage to do that.

there's a specifc moment in the stories of solid heart where you can see the moment they decided that giving up and backing away simply isn't an option anymore. shiho is a slight exception to this rule; there was never a moment in their story where they felt they should give up on their dream to become a professional bassist in a band, not once did they ever stop chasing that dream, for even a moment. shiho's shifts were always about how they chase that dream, with Resonate with You being the decision to not leave leo/need's side, and Don't lose faith! being the change of heart to stop holding back for the sake of the band, to let them catch up by knowing what to chase. but for airi, this happened in the more more jump main story; the recognition of minori's potential as an idol because of her refusal to simply give up, mixed with the mistake of her lashing out at shizuku when she shares the news that she'll be quitting her idol work, kicks airi back to a point of realisation of just how important to her being an idol is, and that she can't afford to just leave it behind. for akito, this happens during rad weekend; after having abandoned sports due to believing he's not dedicated enough, and ena introducing him to the world of music at the summer festival, his entire body and purpose is lit up by the emotional weight of rad weekend, giving him something to strive for and a reason to endure the constant loss that will come with chasing that dream. for nene, pieces of this occur in the wxs main story, but she's truly pushed into the unrelenting determination of solid heart with On a Holy Night, with This Singing Voice and the recognition of her potential from sakurako managing to grab at her competitive spirit and give her something to fight for; something brought to an extreme with The Canary Sings in a Quagmire as nene pushes herself harder than ever before to break down a barrier in her skill.

for ena, this moment was On This Blank Canvas, I Paint. while she never completely gave up on art before this moment, and Insatiable Pale Colour shows how much she wants to fight for her art and gives us a taste of her willingness to keep going, it pales in comparison to the scene captured in the On This Blank Canvas, I Paint untrained ena card. that moment is the decision that completely pivots the direction of ena's entire story into what she's become in modern project sekai. the decision to not look away—to stop looking away. ena is facing her art in a way she was never willing to before, a way she depicted herself in the art piece being critiqued avoiding. the ena of the past would've run away after hearing the harsh words yukihira had to say. we see, in the event, what happened the last time yukihira was harsh about ena's work: she completely broke down and it was the final straw to the shattering of her fragile self-esteem. but during the return to her art classes, which itself is a monumental step due to the pain attached to them, ena made the decision to stop running away. to take whatever yukihira had to say about her art and make it matter, make it have an impact on her growth as an artist. so she sits there, all the memories of the suffering she's gone through fresh on her mind and burning into her, and takes in the criticism. she doesn't fight back like she always had with 25ji, she doesn't look away like she did the last time. these are her failures, and she needs to take responsibility for them. because that's the only way to fix them.

On This Blank Canvas, I Paint also gives us a lot of insight into ena's relationship with shin'ei. not necessarily as much as Insatiable Pale Colour does, since that's a proper introduction to and exploration of their dynamic as both father and daughter and from artist to artist, but On This Blank Canvas, I Paint gives us the invaluable context around the moment that broke their relationship. how much ena had been going through already, how excited she was to continue chasing art, the way shin'ei completely shot her down from the high of being praised by yukihira—something we learn in that event is exceptionally rare—and the actions the next day of yukihira unintentionally confirming for ena everything shin'ei said. that, as she was then, she would never survive or succeed as an artist.

something i don't see really any recognition or mention of is just how much of a part yukihira had to play in ena's collapsed mental health. he was the one to convince her that she could make it by giving her praise, something that ena has always been attached and attracted to because of the lifelong emotional neglect of shin'ei. her receiving that praise from someone she looked up to as a professional and understood that the praise itself is a rarity from him resulted in a complete overblowing of ena's ego, the instant belief that she has what it takes and would be able to make it into and survive art schools with ease. that bubble is popped by shin'ei's words, the outright disapproval of her dream and doubt in her ability to chase that dream (at least, that's how ena takes it; we learn later on that isn't what shin'ei intended to happen). then, the following day, during a very fragile moment where she's reliant on the approval of a professional, yukihira continues to tear ena down with the statement that she'd never make it as an artist if all she looks for is praise. an echoed, if more specific, sentiment to shin'ei's own words. it breaks her. ena would probably be in a much better mental state, though still fragile, were it just shin'ei that knocked her down. but yukihira kicked her while she was down. and that proved to be too much.

i understand why yukihira gets less attention from the fandom, since ena's own story has a stronger focus on what shin'ei did to her than what yukihira did, and what shin'ei did is ultimately the one ena's mind has attached to as evident by the constant flashes to his words in her earlier stories and the entire nightmare sequence of And Now, This Ribbon is Tied, which i can hardly blame her for finding shin'ei's actions more damaging. despite the evidently bad parenting shin'ei has done for either shinonome, even before The SceneTM (akito had it is in his mind that success is impossible without talent even before finding music, and there's a lot of little details across side-stories that imply shin'ei has never been the most attentive father: my favourite of which being ena pushing him into a lake during a camping trip because he wasn't paying enough attention to her. the shinonomes appear to be really bad at communicating and even processing their own feelings, even before the moment ena and shin'ei's relationship fully collapsed, and i think a lot of it comes down to shin'ei being a neglectful and borderline absent father for both of them), ena clearly trusted and believed in shin'ei opinions as both her father and a professional artist by the way she used to study his work to improve her own, the way she went to him for advice on what art school to pick. shin'ei's action was ultimately a betrayal of all of that trust, and i personally believe their relationship is impossible to mend after that, at least to a degree that the shinonome household will be a safe space for either child again (unfortunately, i'm speaking from experience).

i had more to say and if it comes back to me i might reblog with even more yapping but i've completely lost my train of thought due to being distracted and cannot bring it back for the life of me. so i'm just posting this now. have fun ena fans

[toujoursrab]

Prompt: Pounce | Pairing: Jegulus (@into-the-jeggyverse) | Word Count: 946 Warnings: Light sexual undertones. Casual mentions of blood because Reg is a vampire and James makes him thirsty.

“I want him.” Regulus’ tone left no room for argument, his grip tightening around his glass of old fashioned. His eyes were dark but glowing red, determined as he looked across the club admiring the most beautiful man he had seen in centuries. Said man was in the middle of the dance floor, drink in his hand as a blonde woman pressed up against him with minimal space between, his head was tilted back in a laugh over something she had said. Regulus couldn’t hear the sound, but surely it was just as beautiful as he was. An image conjured up in his mind of the stranger beneath him, Regulus’ mouth nestled near the column of his throat before his sharp fangs pierced through tan skin and the first taste of syrupy copper exploded on his tongue. He would sound so fucking pretty, and Regulus would be so full, so satisfied, as he feasted on his prey. 

“Down, kitten.” His best friend smirked, gulping down his own drink; a vodka something. “You look like you’re gonna pounce. As much as I’d enjoy the show this isn’t the place for that.”

Even if it pained him, Regulus had to agree with Barty. They had chosen a human club to visit tonight, deciding to step out of their usual supernatural social rings in an attempt to be “adventurous”. Regulus wasn’t supposed to find his next meal, tonight was just meant for casual fun. There were a lot of human/vampire hangouts where humans willingly let vampires feed on them and this place wasn’t one of them. In fact, his older brother owned one of the oldest and most popular clubs for feeding (and more), Regulus usually ventured there because he was given special treatment from the patrons and the staff. As much as he pretended he didn’t like the attention, he loved being spoiled and given special treatment when he was in the mood for it.

With a disappointed sigh, he sipped his drink but kept his eyes on his prey. Every time he moved, the bright lights flashing over him, it was as if Regulus was noticing some new physical attribute. He was tall, had dark messy hair, and wore glasses. Hot. “I won’t pounce, Barty. I’ll just casually stroll over there.”

Barty gave him a side eye as if he didn’t believe him. Regulus wasn’t the type to be attracted to someone at first glance, but he also wasn’t the most subtle person. He was blunt and straight forward and this wasn’t the best place for that. Most people didn’t take too kindly to vampires even if they openly walked among humans and shared spaces. “And then…?”

“I’ll get close enough to smell his blood.” There were too many scents in here, most of them not pleasant, for Regulus to make out the scent of the guy who made his fangs ache with desire.

“Annnnnd then….?”

“If he smells disgusting, I’ll walk away. But if he doesn’t…..” and Regulus had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t. “I ask him to dance, flirt a little. The bathroom of the club didn’t look that disgusting.”

Barty almost spit out his drink. “You—the biggest prude I know—are going to—in the bathroom of a club?”

Regulus hit the other’s bare arm with the back of his hand in offense, Barty’s face scrunching up as he rubbed the back of his arm. Regulus may have small hands, but the sharpness of the blow stung. “Sirius always says—”

“Stop right there. The last time you quoted something from your brother you decided to go skydiving even though you’re scared of heights.”

“It was for the experience.”

“You clung to Remus for ten minutes crying and hyperventilating, and then had him tell the instructor he was the one who was scared so you both wouldn’t be diving.”

“He took one for the team.”  A huff left the vampire while Barty looked smug to have made his point. It was quiet for a few moments, Barty ordering a new drink and Regulus scanning the crowd for the beautiful guy in glasses, somehow he had lost him. “Fuck, Barty. He’s gone.” His nose twitched just as Barty’s new drink was set down on the bar top. It smelt sweet and alluring, flowery in a way he couldn’t pinpoint, and almost intoxicating as he leaned in to try and get a whiff of more but was left disappointed when he realized it wasn’t coming from the drink placed on the bar. Before Regulus could blink, he was elbowed into his ribs.

“Ow, what the bloody h—” But he stopped speaking, feeling a warmth behind him as he turned. Oh—not only was he met with the beautiful man from the dance floor, but also that sweet intoxicating scent. He almost leaned in just so he could get a whiff, but decided that was weird at the last moment.

“Hi!” the glasses guy looked sheepish, running his fingers through his already messy and lightly damped hair. It was all very endearing, Regulus breathed in and allowed the human’s scent to cloud his senses; it felt like he was floating. “I’m James. I noticed you watching me, thought you might want a closer view.”

Regulus was momentarily stunned. No amount of time spent on this Earth—463 years—could have prepared him for this moment.

“Oh trust me, he bloody well does.” Barty answered with a laugh, almost knocking Regulus off the barstool and right into James.