#difficult and complicated

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[stygicniron]

titanswar asked:

If it sounds difficult and complicated, it’s only because it is. / from annabeth ?

Ask Meme: It’s a Dirty Job -- @titanswar

“Hurray,” Nico says, voice flat as his eyes cut to Annabeth. Then again, it’s not like anything in his life has ever ben straightforward or easy, so he guesses he shouldn’t be too surprised now. Then again, there’s only so many ways that being surrounded by monsters can go. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

[still-searching-for-something]

Today was Yom HaShoah, the day that Jews remember the Holocaust. The Holocaust was the industrialized genocide of the European Jewry by Nazi Germany and its collaborators from 1941-1945.

This is a really simple opening statement, but bear with me--I think it gets a lot more... 'yeah, buts' than most people may realize. And I think a good way of illuminating that is to break down the difference between how gentiles and Jews commemorate and remember it.

In my experience, gentiles seem to view the Holocaust as the ultimate example of mankind's barbarity to mankind. Like, the distillation of evil, the most obvious example of dehumanization and bigotry brought to its horrifying and extreme conclusion. They emphasize Nazi Germany's responsibility, elevate the instances of non-Jewish Frenchmen and Poles and Germans who made efforts to save Jewish lives, and generally view Nazi oppression as a catastrophe of whom Jews were one of many victims. And they emphasize the Allied Powers' role in ending it by liberating the camps and invading Germany. Hence why International Holocaust Remembrance Day falls on January 27th, the day Auschwitz was liberated.

But Jews have a different perspective.

We view the Holocaust as the most extreme manifestation of--but far from the conclusion to--mankind's barbarity to Jews. Not to his fellow man, per se, not to some universalized insert minority here slot, but to Jews, particularly and deliberately. The Nazis could never have accomplished their genocide were it not for the two millennia of anti-Jewish hatreds and dehumanization embedded deep in the institutions and political structures of European society. They didn't have to persuade Europe that the Jews were incurably evil, the Europeans already believed that. The Nazis had 99% of their work done before they'd even come to power, work that was done by the the Russian Empire, the Romans, Martin Luther, Christian Passion Plays, the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, the centuries of blood libels, the Fourth Lateran Council, the New Testament, the Spanish Empire, and on and on and on and on. It's as if some people think Hitler just woke up one day, out of the blue, with a total hatred of Jews and managed to use propaganda to convince the previously 100% tolerant Germans to hate Jews, too. Antisemitism did not begin or end with the Holocaust.

The sole responsibility of Nazi Germany in the Holocaust is also just... not true. Vichy France rounded up 13,152 Jews in the Vel' d'Hiv roundup, with not a single German participant, and sent them off to be murdered in Auschwitz. Vichy passed antisemitic legislation without any outside coercion--French Jews were hiding as much from the French police as they were from the Gestapo. France, of course, was the home of the Dreyfus Affair--antisemitism was and is a deep part of French society. And it isn't just France. Ukrainian nationalists participated in the Lviv pogroms, killing maybe around 8,000 Jews, Poles perpetrated the Jedwabne pogrom, and that doesn't even bring in that countries like the US, Switzerland and Ireland and Britain blocked Jewish emigrants, and I could just keep going on, but I think you get the point. Quite simply, six million Jews interspersed throughout Europe don't get murdered if it isn't without the collaboration of--or at minimum, silent assent and indifference--of all of their neighbors. The Nazis were the primary perpetrators of the Holocaust, of course, but almost all of Europe collaborated on some level, too. And this is a history that gets wiped away in favor of the comforting narrative of the Allied Powers bursting into Auschwitz, killing Nazis, and being horrified by what they've found, and then the poor people in the surrounding towns having NO IDEA about what had been going on. I think this narrative is why gentiles have International Holocaust Remembrance Day when Auschwitz was liberated--when they 'came to the rescue'--and why we have Yom HaShoah on the day in the Jewish calendar that the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising began--when we died on our own terms in spite of our murderers.

Think of the tiny, unwritten, centuries old minhagim of small Jewish shetls and towns like Trochenbrod, which were entirely annihilated. The end of the burgeoning Yiddish cinema. Yiddish going from 13 million speakers to 600,000 today. See how many entries in this list of shetls end with "town/city survived, but all/most Jews exterminated." Imagine for a moment, the potential rabbis and scholars and actors and scientists and artists who could have lived, had they survived or been born of Jews did. Three and a half million Polish Jews, to around 15,000 to 20,000 Polish Jews today. Imagine if Thessaloniki were still a majority Jewish city. How many Jews worldwide would be alive today had the Holocaust never happened? I've heard estimations of 32 million, compared to the real life 16 million. To kill such a massive number of people from an already tiny minority group--that has real consequences. The cultural loss for the Jewish people is staggering and beyond human comprehension.

And yet, the Nazis deliberate targeting of us is, in many ways, being pushed aside. Magnus Hirschfeld was gay, yes, and advanced the Institute of Sexology way ahead of its time and yeah, the Nazis were homophobic. But they were homophobic for antisemitic reasons. They viewed his work as Jewish perversions BECAUSE Dr. Hirschfeld was Jewish. In fact, they viewed homosexuality as a creation of the Jews. But so many progressive queer people, especially those who run in antizionist circles, seem to be trying to co-opt the Holocaust as being their trauma, downplaying Hirschfeld's Jewishness and holding the Institute up as proof that queer people were the 'real' victims of the Holocaust, entirely shutting out the millions of Jews, Sinti, Roma, and Slavs who were murdered. You can also see this in anti-mask conservatives comparing masking mandates during the pandemic to anti-Jewish legislation in the Holocaust, or the comparisons of the ongoing war against Hamas as being a 'modern day Holocaust.'

This phenomenon, Holocaust universalization, gets so much pushback from Jews for a reason--it downplays the anti-Jewish character of the Holocaust. It's softcore Holocaust denial. And it's so ridiculous we even have to say that, as the whole point of the Holocaust was to be anti-Jewish, to be the "Final Solution to the Jewish Question." It's 'All Lives Mattering' the Holocaust. Holocaust universalization, and Holocaust inversion--the phenomenon of talking about Jews, Zionists, or Israelis as perpetrating a 'new Holocaust'--minimizes and trivializes the astounding damage and traumas and death and destruction wrought by the Holocaust. It's a polemical lie, so incendiary and so insulting--imagine telling a sexual assault survivor that they're morally no better than their rapist--that the only thing it can be is antisemitic. It is beyond reprehensible to talk like that, but it's so mainstream and acceptable to do it. Activists who say these things need to examine their own rhetoric, because it's dangerous, antisemitic, and adjacent to Holocaust denial. Not a place I think anyone should want to be.

The Holocaust is not a lesson Jews should have learned, an educational seminar, a 'card' Jews play, a choose your own adventure novel, a philosophical meditation on the nature of mankind's evils, or an empty slate upon which to project modern politics, warfare, or your ideology onto.

The Holocaust is, quite simply, the industrialized genocide of the European Jewry by Nazi Germany and its collaborators from 1941-1945. And today was Yom HaShoah, the day we remember that.

[saltpepperbeard]

is this anything

[gazspookiebear]

Thinking about waiting for Ghost to be ready for a relationship (kind of continued from this post

(Kinda angsty, self doubt/depreciating thoughts)

When you ask 'What are we?', he panics. He doesn't know. He isn't ready to be a boyfriend, to meet your parents, to open up about his life-

His internal monolog is interrupted by your hand on top of his own. He hadn't realized how anxious he must have appeared- sweaty, hands trembling, shallow breaths, the works. He felt like he was being strangled, and all of this was over a simple question. Why did he ever think he could do this?

You tell him it's okay. You tell him you don't need an answer now if he's not ready. You say that you're fine with the way things are, and if he isn't ready to move forward yet, you'll wait for him.

You tell him you'll always love him regardless.

The world might as well have stopped spinning, because you love him?

He wants to tell you he loves you too, but he's scared. He's still waiting for you to leave. For him to lose feelings. For this to all have been a huge waste of time, or for you to realize you deserve better as soon as he confesses how he really feels.

For a split second, he thinks about leaving. About ghosting you. Maybe even breaking up with you- but that would require him to admit there was something there in the first place. It felt like you had snaked your way around his heart and were squeezing with all your might.

God, he couldn't imagine himself without you. He felt like a fool, naive and childish all over again. Why were you so patient with him? Couldn't you see there was something rotting inside of him?

Once again, he's dragged out of his mind by your presence. You look worried. He can't fathom why you would be worried about him. Nonetheless, he squeezes your hand in return. A simple gesture, but it means the world to you. You know he's trying. You know he's fighting with himself and losing half the battles.

You're determined to win the war.

[amanitacurses]

Gerudo Set

[ningadudexx]

look at the sky and spot the breeze! ⭐️

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[sleepgarden]

Tapestry/Needlepoint commissions are now open! I’m opening 2 slots. I am selecting by interest first (as i am easing into commission work again) thank you for understanding. This is my first time using a google form so i really hope it works. If you have any trouble please let me know!

Here is the google form! ♡

[bitchliteraria1906]

Someone: What's your sexuality?

Me: well you see, I never had a serious crush on anyone. Also, I had trouble understanding what a crush even was for most of my life. Also, I identified as aroallo for a while because I thought I was aro but not ace, but now I think I'm ace too. Also, fictional crushes. Also, I enjoy learning and reading/sometimes even writing about kink but have no idea if I would be comfortable actually participating on it. Also, some days I'm perfectly happy like this but other days are still confusing and shitty because it's all still new to me. Also-

[skeletoninthemelonland]

[faraskyetruther]

can't imagine morgan fey being bothered enough to handle mia's funeral but i can imagine a 17 YEAR OLD maya fey pushing herself to make sure her sister has a perfect funeral while trying to ignore all the trauma and grief of losing a sister and being accused of her murder with only one person truly being in your corner (who she barely knew well enough to fully trust but she had to force herself to trust). and also while still being a fucking child who has been forced by circumstance to grow up when she remains unprepared.

[afewproblems]

Difficult Days Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Read on AO3

Detective Vick is not what Shawn expected. 

First of all, it's Detective Karen Vick, and second, she's much younger and softer spoken than her association with Henry would suggest. 

When she comes to collect Shawn a good twenty minutes later, she clears her throat and waits for him to acknowledge her presence. 

Her shoulder length blond hair hangs around her face in a ‘Shag’ cut that vaguely reminds him of a Friend's character, Phoebe? No that's the blonde, what the hell was her name again?

“Rachel,” Shawn says, snapping his fingers in triumph, only to realize he's spoken aloud and the Detective is starring with an amused, if slightly bewildered, expression.

She presses a hand against her chest and says, “no Mr. Spencer, Detective Vick”. 

Shawn feels his ears burn but still manages a small grin as the Detective motions for him to stand up and follow her to a small room just off the bullpen. 

The tall rookie from earlier is sitting at a desk in the far corner, he watches Shawn before looking back down at the paperwork on his desk, a small self satisfied smirk on his face.

“So,” Detective Vick says as she opens the door and steps aside to let Shawn go first, “I'm sure I don't have to tell you how this works Mr. Spencer,” 

“Uh,” he swallows and runs his now sweaty palms down his jeans as he takes in the ink pads and paper on the metal table in front of him. 

Holy shit.

Holy shit, he was going to jail.

This was real, he wasn't a minor, his fingerprints would be in the system for the rest of his life, he was going to be shipped off to the state prison, how many years would someone get for taking their neighbors car? 

Everything is slipping away from him, Anthony, his parents, his fucking future.

Shawn feels his chest stutter as he realizes he hasn't been breathing.

“I get a phone call right?” Shawn croaks out, his voice quiet enough that Detective Vick has to lean closer to hear.

She raises a single polished eyebrow, her eyes scanning Shawn’s face for a brief moment, assessing something.

Maybe it's because she's a stranger, but her stare isn't nearly as intense as his dads so Shawn meets her gaze, despite his internal panic, waiting for her to say no or brush him aside.

“Okay kid,” she says, tipping her head over to the door, “there's a phone at my desk, dial nine to call out, then come back here and we'll talk”.

Shawn nods, stepping away from the Detective and the open door and making his way over to the desk she pointed out. 

The first thing Shawn notices are the pictures among the neat piles of paperwork and files, one of the Detective receiving an award in her dress uniform, another with the Detective and a tall man who looks about her age, probably a boyfriend based on their expressions. 

The rookie from earlier clears his throat loudly across the bullpen, staring Shawn down as if to say, quit stalling.

Not that Shawn wants to spend any longer here than necessary. If by some miracle he does get to walk out of here tonight, he’ll never so much as jaywalk again.

Shawn shakes himself and reaches out for the phone, dialing the number with a practiced hand.

It rings, long and loud in his ear once before pausing briefly and ringing again. Shawn holds his breath, please, please, pick up, he thinks miserably.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice says over the line and Shawn releases a shaky breath of relief.

“Hi Mrs. Guster, can I speak to G--Burton please?”

“Shawn? Do you know what time it is?” Mrs. Guster says, her voice firm but the barest hint of concern seeps into her question.

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly through his nose, “I know it's late, but it's important, please Mrs. Guster.”

“Okay, hold on,” she says tiredly. Shawn hears the rustle of clothing as Gus’ mom makes her way upstairs with the cordless phone, then muffled voices in the background as Mrs. Guster finally passes the phone to her son.

“Gus?”

“Shawn? Do you know what time it is? You're lucky mom even woke me up!”

“Gus stop, I-” he swallows the heavy lump that has started to form in his throat, “do you remember when T.S gets dumped by his girlfriend in that Kevin Smith movie we went to see?”

“What? You called me to talk about Mallrats? Shawn--”

“Gus, just,” he feels his voice waver as he tries to keep it light and quiet, hyper aware of the way Lassiter’s eyes keep flicking his way.

“That movie,” his voice cracks slightly and Shawn winces, curling further away from the blue eyes across the room, “it didn't really do it justice, uh, how much getting dumped sucks”.

Gus is quiet on the other end of the line but Shawn hears the sharp intake of air and suddenly he can’t stop the words from coming, falling out of his mouth like vomit. 

“You were right Gus, he uh, he's going to Princeton, can't have someone like me dragging him down, wait, maybe I'm the Brodie in this scenario,” he tries for a laugh that comes out watery and wipes his nose, “I should have listened to you”.

“Shawn--”

“And Henry knows,” he blurts out, cutting Gus off before he chickens out, “it's--it's not good Gus, I'm at the station--”

“What!” Gus exclaims, loud enough that Shawn briefly moves the receiver away from his ear, “the f-- he can't arrest you for being Bi, this isn't the 50s!” 

He hears rustling in the background, the sound of jeans and a belt buckle clinking as Gus presumably gets dressed.

Shawn feels some of the heavy weight in his chest lift and can’t quite stop the ghost of a smile from pulling at his lips. He knew he could count on Gus, he could always count on Gus.

“Could you and your mom come down?” Shawn says softly into the receiver,

“We’re on our way honey”.

“Mom!” Gus sputters and Shawn nearly drops the phone this time, he manages to catch it and bring it back to his ear just in time to hear Gus say, “you were listening?!”

Mrs. Guster sucks her teeth and Shawn can almost picture her rolling her eyes, “oh please Burton, you think I'm not going to listen when Shawn calls us in the middle of the night? I don't need a mother's intuition to know something's wrong”.

Shawn holds his breath again, as some of the anxiety from earlier creeps its way back into his spine, how long had she been listening? 

Shawn knows Mrs. Guster isn't overly fond of him after all the years of trouble-making and roping her son into his antics, garnering more calls to the Principal's office than the Gusters would have expected for their boy. 

And what if she had heard what Shawn said about Anthony, if she was listening the whole time–

“Shawn? Are you still there?” Mrs. Guster says sharply, halting the panicked spiral of thoughts before he can tumble all the way down, “don't say a word till I get there okay? We're on our way”.

“Yeah, that’s--okay,” Shawn breathes out as the wave of exhaustion that has been threatening to wash over him finally spreads down from the top of his head to his shoulders, making him slump slightly as the tension begins to bleed out of his shoulders. He hangs up the phone after another beat and releases a shaky breath, lifting his hands to press his fingers into his eyes for the second time that night.

The sound of a throat clearing behind him has Shawn lookup, slightly startled, to see Detective Vick standing behind him. The rookie is also pretending not to watch him from behind the Detective. He stands at the water dispenser, all legs and lanky arms; it's comical to see him try to be inconspicuous with a half empty paper cup, blue eyes pinched in something awful, like pity. 

Shawn wonders if he could get away with kicking the cop in the shins without adding another charge to his new rap sheet.

“You get a hold of your mom?” Detective Vick asks softly.

“Something like that,” Shawn says quietly as the Detective nods and beckons him back into the room. 

***

After a long night of taking his fingerprints and photos --where Shawn was reprimanded several times to face the correct way and to stop standing on his tiptoes at the last second to inflate his height, and finally his statement --though this was even harder for the Detective to get through without cracking just a bit after Shawn referred to Henry as, ‘what the Assistant Principal in the Breakfast Club wished he could be’.

It takes well over two hours before Shawn is released back into the main lobby. It’s still dark out thankfully but Shawn has no clue what time it is between the lack of daylight and the new wave of exhaustion that hits him in the gut as he slowly makes his way to the waiting area. 

Despite the wait in the horrible chairs in the lobby, Mrs. Guster and Gus are both there, waiting patiently for him. 

Gus launches himself off the chair faster than Shawn can say his name as he finds himself nearly tackled to the cold tiled floor.

“Don’t do that again man,” Gus says softly into Shawns shoulder as he hugs him tightly before pushing him away harshly, “it’s two in the morning, what the hell did you do that it took so long to get out? You didn’t actually murder Anthony did you, because I was hoping to get a shot in--”

“Dude!” Shawn squawks, his eyes dart to Mrs. Guster who is pointedly looking at the clock on the wall above their heads. She’s wearing a long cardigan over her pajamas and a tired expression on her face as she turns her gaze back to Shawn and her son. The periwinkle bonnet covering her hair does nothing to soften the air of annoyance following Mrs. Guster as she gives them the barest shake of her head and tells them to get in the car or start walking. 

Shawn releases a sigh of relief as Mrs. Guster herds Shawn and Gus into the little Ford Pinto, she hasn’t said a word since they left the building and seems content to listen to Gus speak for the both of them as they pull out of the department parking lot and onto the empty Santa Barbara downtown streets. 

He was expecting a lecture, or at least a stern warning to never call their home in the middle of the night like this again. But the silence is almost more terrifying as Gus begins to nod off next to Shawn in the back seat, he can’t get a good read on Mrs. Guster in her silence. Shawn picks at his thumbnail absently as he turns his head to the passenger window, startling slightly as Mrs. Guster clears her throat from the front seat.

“Shawn,” she says softly. Her eyes catch his in the rearview mirror, “I know we haven't always…” 

She breathes out and tries again, shifting her gaze back to the road, “Burton has always said you were a good boy, and we--I…”

Mrs. Guster releases another long breath and goes quiet, her brow furrowing slightly as she grips the steering wheel just a little tighter.  

Shawn holds his breath, the seat belt stretching tight across his neck like a noose as they continue down the highway. 

Then, in a voice softer than Shawn has ever heard Mrs. Guster use in more than ten years of knowing her, she says his name and holds his gaze in the rearview mirror once more. 

“You have a place to stay. With us…I hope you know that,” her voice is steady now but just as soft as when she said his name, “and I don’t care what that father of yours thinks, there is nothing wrong with you, do you understand?”

Shawn only manages a small nod as the lump in his throat doubles in size, erasing his voice completely. It earns him a kind smile in return from Mrs. Guster as she holds Shawn’s gaze for another beat before shifting her attention back to the dimly lit road. 

Shawn doesn't speak for the rest of the ride that night. Content to let the silence in the vehicle, punctuated by Gus's soft snores, and the soft golden light of the street lights wash over him as they make their way home.

Tag List: @adaed5 @drakkywolf @newgrangespirals @riverofrainbows (If you want to be removed or added to the tag list please let me know!)

[pluralsword]

Sorry everybody, had to do it. XD the joke is in the comic panel text if the meaning is unclear due to this being a variant of the meme format. Arcee sure has long days sometimes huh, glad she has determination, wisdom, trust, and love to get through it. If you're stumped check under the cut:

This is a variant of the Loss meme, the loss also being her and her family's long days

[mayomkun]

Insane how many social cues humans have and you're supposed to know them all without being told