#hate when people whine about Hamas

[spicyicymeloncat]

Some people will try to uproot a cactus and get mad when they cut themselves on the spines. Killing and colonising is not supposed to painless.

Anyways here’s a website on symbolic Palestinian flora

[the-badger-mole]

How about a prompt with Zutara meeting doing some kind of volunteer work?

"There must be something Dad can do to get us out of this." Zuko rolled his eyes as his sister complained for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes. He wasn't thrilled, either, but he'd chosen to have a more philosophical attitude towards their court mandated community service. After all, as his uncle always told him, it was good for the soul to give to those in need. That, and he hated talking to his sister and her friends.

"It won't be so bad," Ty Lee, ever the optimist, comforted her friends. "I bet there'll be some interesting people there."

"Doubt it," Mai mumbled. She had said it low enough so Zuko was pretty sure he was the only one who heard her. She met his eye and rolled hers, inviting him to join her in her quiet derision of one of her oldest friends. Zuko managed a half-hearted smirk, but kept his thoughts to himself. At least Ty Lee was trying to make the best of things.

"As if I have nothing better to do with my Saturday then spend it passing out food to people who are too lazy or stupid to feed themselves," Azula snorted. She put her foot up on the back of Zuko's seat.

"Get your foot out of my back!" Zuko snapped. Azula huffed and gave his seat one solid kick before she put her foot back on the floor.

"I don't know why you're complaining so much," Mai said, looking at Azula in the rearview. "It's mostly your fault we're in this mess in the first place." Azula scowled at her.

"I didn't twist your arm to break into that warehouse," Azula reminded her. "I didn't force any of you to come with me. It wasn't my idea to bring booze, either, Mai." Mai just shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. It was true enough that Mai had been the one to bring the vodka and whiskey she'd stolen from her parents' collection, but the four teens would probably not have been caught if Azula hadn't decided it would be fun to set a fire and burn several boxes of very expensive imported teas. Had the owner of the company not been Zuko and Azula's uncle, they would probably have all been tried for arson, instead of given probation and community service. Zuko shut his eyes and tried to think of anything but the disappointment on Iroh's face when the cops had led Zuko and Azula out of the still smoking building in handcuffs. It had been three weeks since the incident, and aside from a brief appearance to speak at their hearing the week before, Zuko hadn't seen his uncle since.

"We're here," Mai announced. She turned into a parking lot and found a space near the exit. The four piled out of the car and headed reluctantly towards the entrance.

Hama's Haven for Families was a slightly run down brick building that used to be a school. It had been shut down almost two decades earlier and used as surplus storage for the school district for a while. Then eight years earlier, someone had bought the building from the city and converted it into temporary housing for women and families with children. They provided meals, counseling, and for the youngest residents, daycare until the adults could find work and permanent housing. Why this was chosen as their service project, Zuko wasn't sure. It wouldn't have been his first choice of project, and he was certain his companions wouldn't have even put this place on their list. But the judge had given Iroh the right to decide what punishment he thought would fit the crime his family and their friends had committed against him. Zuko figured the least he could do was not whine about it.

"Ugh!" Azula's face contorted in disgust. "I can smell them from here. Don't they get showers?" Zuko gave the air a subtle, experimental sniff. Immediately, he identified the pungent scent his sister was complaining about as manure, probably from the community garden behind the building. It wasn't his favorite smell, but Azula was way overreacting.

Inside the building was bustling with activity. There was a cheerful energy in the air, which shocked Zuko, considering why they were there. A few people wore light blue t-shirts with Hama's Haven across the front in graffiti block. On the backs, the shirts read either Volunteer or Staff. A man stood at the front desk, expectantly. He was tall and muscled in a way that suggested a lot of physical labor, rather than spending hours in the gym. He wore his chin length brown hair half up. He didn't seem to be much older than Zuko and Azula's father, though his dark blue eyes had a weathered look. As if he'd seen a lot and had learned stoicism in the face of it. He looked familiar to Zuko, but he couldn't place the man's face for the life of him.

"I'm Hakoda," he greeted them politely, but not with much warmth. "Are you here for the mandated service?"

"What was your first clue?" Azula snorted. Zuko felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"We are," he said quickly, trying to mask his sister's rudeness. He stepped forward and held his hand out to Hakoda. The older man eyed Zuko's hand hesitantly for a moment, before grasping it in his. Hakoda had a strong, firm hand shake. Zuko could tell he was holding back, but when Hakoda let him go, Zuko felt the blood rush back to his hand with a throb.

"Nice to meet you," he said, turning his attention to the clipboard in his hands. "I see we have you for one hundred and fifty hours. You have to be here once a week for four hours a shift, so that'll take you about nine months. But if you'd like to get through your mandatory hours quicker, you're welcome to contact me for opportunities during the week. We have tutoring and after school activities, along with an upcoming food and clothing drive. We could always use a few more hands.

"Sure," Mai scoffed. If Hakoda heard her, he ignored her. He turned to the desk and reached down on the other side, coming back up with four t-shirts, light blue with the shelter's name on the front. Azula and Mai regarded them distastefully. Despite the instructions to come to their shift in comfortable clothes they didn't mind getting dirty, the two girls had come in the same chic, dark clothing they would wear any other weekend.

"No thanks," Azula said with a sneer. "I'm fine with what I've got on." Hakoda raised an eyebrow at her and Mai.

"I'm afraid it's not optional," he told them. "This is the uniform that staff and volunteers wear. You're expected to be in them for every shift you have with us."

"I'm not wearing this cheap, tacky thing!" Azula insisted.

"Ditto," Mai said, folding her arms across her chest.

"That's fine," Hakoda said with a shrug. "But you won't be permitted to stay and work. You're welcome to take that up with Judge Jeong-Jeong."

"Guys, we won't get the hours we need," Ty Lee whispered nervously to her friends. "The judge said we could still be sent to juvie." Azula and Mai shot Ty Lee the most scathing looks, and Ty Lee shrank back a bit. Zuko turned his head to roll his eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, how someone like Ty Lee had ended up in his sister's inner circle. He took his t-shirt and slipped it on over his clothes. Then he looked at the three girls expectantly. Ty Lee hurried to get hers on over her long-sleeved pink shirt. Hakoda favored them with a smile and approving nod before turning back to Azula and Mai.

"I'm not putting that on." Azula's jaw was set mulishly. Mai didn't say anything, but she fixed Hakoda with a cutting scowl.

"Your choice," Hakoda shrugged. "Either put the shirts on, or get out. I'm sure if you ask really nicely, Judge Jeong-Jeong will get you on highway clean up. Maybe orange jumpers will suit you two better."

"I'll tell my father about this," Azula hissed at him. "He can buy and sell you. He can have this dump turned into a parking lot."

"Do what you've got to do," Hakoda scoffed at her. "In the meantime, you have your two choices. So what's it going to be? I don't have all day." Azula and Mai glowered at Hakoda. But in the end, they didn't have much of a choice. Mai snatched a shirt from Hakoda, and after a moment, Azula took the last one. Hakoda's eyes gleamed smugly as the girls yanked the shirts on over their dark, designer blouses.

"Now that that's over with-"

"Dad!" Hakoda was interrupted by a girl running up to the desk with an exasperated look. Zuko suddenly realized why Hakoda looked so familiar. His daughter bore a striking resemblance. Katara Imiq was in Azula's class, the year below his, but she was in a few of his advanced placement classes. She was also on the track team with Azula, and in drama with Ty Lee. He and Azula both seemed to be in constant competition with the over achieving Katara in some form or another, though Azula was far more antagonistic about it than Zuko was. Beside him, Azula went rigid and shook with quiet rage at the sight of her chief rival for grades, athletics and popularity. Katara, though hadn't even seemed to notice them yet.

"What's up?" Hakoda asked.

"Sokka can't get the dryer to work," Katara explained with an annoyed huff. "It turns on, but it won't heat up. He put the last load in an hour ago and it's still soaking wet!"

"Can you get Bato to handle it?" Hakoda asked.

"He's not here today, remember? His niece's dance recital."

"Right." Hakoda sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm on it. Can you take over for me? These are the new volunteers. They need their assignments." For the first time Katara seemed to realize that there were new people there. She froze when she saw Zuko and Azula, but before she could say anything, Hakoda had passed her his clipboard and jogged off to the laundry room. Katara's jaw clenched, but she took a deep breath and greeted the four with a cordial, if clipped tone.

"Did you get to look at the list of jobs that need to be done?" Katara asked them. She was met with stony silence, but it didn't seem to bother her. "Did you have a preference for where you wanted to work?"

"As far away from these disgusting beggars as possible," Azula said snidely. Katara's mouth pressed into a thin line and she glowered at Azula.

"Fine," she said. "You can sort the recycling."

"What?" Azula gasped.

"The residents also volunteer here," Katara explained with a saccharine smile. "Recycling sorting is the only job where there are no disgusting beggars currently signed up to work."

"I'm not touching garbage," Azula snarled. Katara met her with a feral looking grin of her own.

"You can leave if you want," Katara said. "I'm sure the judge will be happy to give you the poshest cell on the block." The four balked in surprise. Katara smirked smugly, assuring them that she knew exactly why they were there.

"Whatever," Mai snorted.

"Is there anything left in the kitchen?" Ty Lee asked shyly. "I-I'm pretty good at cooking." Katara's face softened a bit and she even smiled a little at Ty Lee.

"We actually have chefs who do the actual cooking, but they could use someone to help prep and wash."

"Perfect!" Ty Lee agreed with alacrity. Then Katara turned to Zuko. Her lip curled as if she smelled the manure from the garden.

"I don't have any preference," he told her. "I'll go wherever." Katara blinked in surprise. She had been expecting the same attitude from him as from Azula. Zuko was glad to have proven her wrong. He bit back a smirk as she went down the line of duties to be done.

"The maintenance crew is painting the stairwells," she told him. "They need another set of hands."

"Fine," Zuko nodded. Katara looked at him appraisingly for a moment. Zuko stood straight under her scrutiny. Azula was determined to make this as unpleasant for the people running the shelter as possible. Zuko was just as determined to prove that not every member of the Kaji family was as obnoxiously snobbish.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

FAQ and frequent hate anons& comments

I keep getting the same messages/anons since some of my posts are doing well… I am writing and pinning this post to answer these.

Who am I? I’m 22, a Jewish and Israeli queer woman.

No, I don’t condone the death of Palestinians.

-I can hold a place in my heart for the suffering of other people, of “the other side” of the conflict. Obviously I do not wish for the death of anyone. I wish for a peaceful future for all sides.

I just happen to be Israeli and Jewish.

“You’re ignoring the death of Palestinians”

*Once again, I’m not trying to deny any of the suffering of the Palestinians. I am simply trying to bring up awareness of what us Israelis are going through. *

I’m trying to debunk the misinformation and dehumanising rhetoric towards Israelis/ Jews on this site, By telling my story and presenting more reliable information and sources.

“You’re privileged, you’re whining about x while people in Gaza are dying”

News flash,people in Israel die as well.

And HOW THE HELL AM I PRIVILEGED WHEN People from my city were murdered or kidnapped by terrorists???

My city is constantly under rocket fire. Unlike what some people comment under my posts -I am not deluded or privileged.

Wanting to live peacefully is not a privilege. And while I’m describing how war and terror affects my life I am not whining.

How hateful and hypocritical do you have to be in order to tell that to a stranger? The anons and comments I receive shock me every single time .

What are your sources?

-some of y’all literally trust a terror organisation over Jews/ Israelis.

I was asked multiple times to cite my sources for my countries’ borders. Huh? I don’t know, reality??

“What is your proof”

Anti - Zionists and antisemites are constantly asking us for proof, while you immediately believe Hamas.

this is unbelievable considering Hamas filmed their attacks with GoPros and live-streamed it using the victims’ phones and social media accounts.

There are also: surveillance cameras footage,  forensic evidence, post-mortem analysis,eyewitness accounts, interviews and evidence provided by first responders and survivors, etc…

“You’re brainwashed/ deluded”

Maybe, but unlike most of the people who write to me, I live here.

I back all of my claims with resources and facts,and I am more than happy to provide missing information/ clarify my posts.

I’ve cared about this conflict even when it wasn’t trending. I can admit my country’s faults and strive for a better future for my people, and love it at the same time.

The fact that what I’m saying may not fit your narrative doesn’t mean it’s not happening in real life …

Ps- While this is a trend to you - it’s my daily life for me. Don’t assume you know better because you watched a tiktok or read a questionable article (these are actually all things people have said to me …).

ALL DEATH THREATS , SLURS& HATE ANONS, NAZI PROPAGANDA AND CRAZY ALLEGATIONS WILL BE DELETED AND INGONRED.

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

I am enjoying the parade of freaks and pricks all lining up to gleefully and vocally throw themselves onto the “Lee Anderson did nothing wrong and speaks for millions” fire, the latest being noted sack of shit Richard Tice.

I am enjoying it because the core of their argument – the pillar upon which the weight is bearing down – is that the (consistent, and consistently vast) protest marches in support of Gaza and Palestine more broadly, are seething, hate-filled marches of rage and sheet, unbridled, frothing Jew-hatred. Which they, uh, aren’t. Pretty obviously. Like, blatantly.

It makes you look crazy when you talk like this!

(There have been arrests (the stats of which bizarrely are not broken down between protestors and counter-protestors – why wouldn’t you do that?) but given that the marches regularly attract tens of thousands I’d kind of expect a couple. Not the hundred Lee Anderson lied about, mind. PS Those people who put pictures of the Hamas paragliders onto their coats? Tasteless, guys. Why would you do that?)

But their whole case hinges on it because if it wasn’t true, well, then they’d just be whining about protests. And they love protests! They love free speech! Just not this, obviously, because it’s gone too far. Too far! That a visible amount of those in the marches are obviously Muslim and that this is a cause with a strong Islamic connection (rightly or wrongly) and a strong resonance, well, that’s just a coincidence!

It’s not that they dislike Muslims! They just think they should be quiet. Also they all hate the Jews, clearly. Damn Muslims, dividing our communities – multiculturalism has failed!

Hmm. I’m not sure these guys are on the level.

Also yes, to clarify: Outright stating – not just implying, but just saying – that the Muslim mayor of London is controlled by Islamists? Not Islamophobic. If you’d rolled out a classic “Oh, Jews control the media!” you’d have been (rightly, let’s be very clear) drummed out of polite society, but since he’s just saying that a Muslim is in the pocket of Islamic extremists (also note the broad-to-the-point-of-uselessness ‘Islamists’ – a modern classic!) that’s fine. That’s not Islamophobic! It’s just what people are thinking!

Double standard? What double-standard?

To think a mayor dared to allow perfectly legal protests to go ahead. The nerve! We want our country back! Bring back hanging and then don’t hang them because it’s too good for ‘em! That’s what I say!

God you people are scumbags.

[bllsbailey]

Lloyd Austin Confirms What We Already Know Regarding Israel's War in Gaza

Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin testified before the Senate Armed Services Committee yesterday to confirm what we’ve already known about the Gaza War. There is no genocide happening in the region. Pro-Hamas supporters have whined for weeks about a war crime that doesn’t exist. 

Meanwhile, they’ve coddled and drooled over a terror group that committed crimes against humanity when they invaded Israel on October 7, 2023. Yet, Austin also didn’t call the October 7 attacks a genocide, though there are better arguments to label them as such. He did stress that aid to the Palestinian civilian population, which is also Hamas, is essential in stabilizing the region (via Politico): 

Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin on Tuesday rebuffed arguments that Israel is committing genocide against Palestinians in Gaza, saying he’s seen no evidence to suggest it.  “We don’t have any evidence of genocide being [committed]” by Israel in Gaza, Austin told the Senate Armed Services Committee during a budget hearing, where his testimony was interrupted several times by protesters.  […]  Austin also said a military operation to establish a pier in Gaza to deliver humanitarian aid by sea will be up and running by late April.  “It is something that we have the ability to do and we should do,” Austin said of the pier operation. Sen. Tim Kaine (D-Va.) faulted the Israeli government for “collectively punishing” Gazans by throttling access to water and humanitarian aid. He pointed to recent comments from World Food Programme Director Cindy McCain that a famine is imminent.  When asked by Kaine about the issue, Austin said a lack of food and medicine “will accelerate violence, and it will have the effect of ensuring that there is a long term conflict because the Palestinian people will have been disadvantaged to such a great degree. This doesn’t have to happen.” 

Recommended

That pier is going to be a floating terror target. And there is nothing wrong with collective punishment when the civilian population wholeheartedly endorses Hamas and their operational goals. They elected these people to power in the mid-2000s. Are there some who hate Hamas and blame them for the destruction of their homes? Sure, but as new polling has shown consistently, much of the population supports the terrorist organization and approved of the October 7 attacks. They are the same. The son of a Hamas commander made this argument on Dr. Phil’s show recently.

Coleman Hughes also joined Joe Rogan’s podcast to slap down the genocide myth. Rogan has entertained the position that Israeli forces might be committing such acts. Hughes quickly laid waste to these claims, leading to Rogan reconsidering his position:  

There is no Gaza genocide. Hamas is going to be wiped out soon. We should rejoice.

Recommended

Trending on Townhall Videos

[cosmicjoke]

@syabm

Alright bitch, since you blocked me before I could reply, after whining about me blocking you, here you are anyway, just so everyone can know who the clown is defending genocide:

I think I just activated your dumb-fuck card, is what you mean.

Allow me to relieve you of your pseudo-intellectual quandary.

You don't believe me? It's literally provable by Israel leaderships own words and actions. They're attacking Rafah right now, the "safe zone" they told all the Palestinians to go to, the same way they've repeatedly attacked other supposed safe zones, refugee areas, hospitals, schools, UN buildings, etc, etc... And I didn't put "safe zone" in quotation marks to quote you, ass-hate, I put it in quotation marks because it's a sarcastic term in this context. There is no "safe zone", and your continued denial of that hard truth doesn't change the fact.

Also, you mean the same Hamas government that Netanyahu and his party are on tape discussing, talking about funding and ensuring they have support because it will make the Palestinian population easier to control? You mean that government? I guess you also think all the people that died on 9/11 deserved it because they voted for George Bush and other, corrupt and sociopathic government officials. Great logic there. Keep exposing yourself for the socipath you are. It's pretty funny to watch.

Half the population in Gaza are children, you moron. They were either too young, or hadn't even been born yet, when Hamas was voted into power, yet they're now the group being slaughtered en masse for something they had nothing to do with. You also conveniently leave out the fact that Gaza hasn't been allowed, by Israel, to hold elections since Hamas got into power. There's been no elections there since 2007. How about the consistent and constant campaigns launched by Israel against Gaza over the years, routinely flattening infrastructure, killing civilians, arresting mass numbers of people, including children, and detaining them without due process of any kind, not allowing anyone OUT of Gaza without a special permit, purposefully bombing their airports so no one can leave, firing on fishing boats that dare to stray too far from shore, and even counting the number of calories they would allow inside the strip on a day to day basis? You wouldn't know about any of that though, I'm guessing, since you continue to display your woeful depth of ignorance every time you open your mouth. But go on, keep telling me how the Palestinians brought this shit on themselves by daring to fight back against a colonial settlement forced on them by the British empire. You clearly don't know shit about Israel's history, so why do you keep talking about as if you do?

"Ah, yes, the ol' "they have no responsibility for their actions because Israel did bad things" argument."

Do you not see the absurd double-standard of this statement?

Ah, yes, the ol "they have no responsibility for their actions because Hamas did bad things", argument.

Total clown show over here.

Also, what did you do, create a second account just to harass me?

I blocked you because I've dealt with so many deniers of reality just like you who will make any and all justifications for literal genocide, and I have no desire to interact with trash human beings, sorry.

Also, Israel as it is now doesn't have a right to exist. They're squatting on stolen land and doing everything in their power to ethnically cleanse its native population, with the goal of creating a ethno-supremacist Jewish state. Hmmm, sounds familiar, doesn't it? Wonder where I've seen that before?

But again, keep telling yourself I'm the antisemite while you parrot all the same ideological fanaticism that fueled Nazi Germany. Disgusting pig.

Goodbye now. Have fun continuing to make excuses for the mass murder of women, children and men who had nothing to do with what happened on Oct. 7th. I'm sure if you whisper it hard enough to yourself in the dark of night, you'll be able to convince yourself you're not a completely morally bankrupt shit-bag.

[papirouge]

A Hamas cleaning sounds just fine to me because I'd rather live in a world where the people in power can at least be reasoned with Hamas and their supporters are a death cult who are reaping what they have sown so be it

Cool story bro. Don't whine like a crybaby when the Hamas and their support state the exact same thing about Israel.

Never forget: hates breeds hate. If you think your survival depends on someone else extinction, don't be shook they will give back the exact same energy to you.

Have fun genociding each other ✌🏾

[awed-frog]

I'm sorry but you cannot possibly be whining about why the media is only talking about the palestine issue instead of focusing on every other crime committed by islamic terrorists... my god. It's like saying "hey look at all the other problems the world has to deal with! don't just talk about racism" in the middle of a BLM rally. You sound like saving the children from being bombed to death by israel equals to creating more hashtag islamic terrorists of the future.

This issue that's been deliberately ignored by the west for decades has literally been used to fuel terrorist organizations. Think about how those extremists are born for one second before trying to do exactly what will cause more hate.

I’m not whining, I’m just saying there’s dozens of terrible things happening right this minute, and while good media are talking about those, Americans on social media apparently found a hashtag they can fit in with their worldview and are running with it. I mean it’s not like the situation in Gaza was much better two months ago, but nobody cared then, did they? But now Bella Hadid tweets out some bullshit and all of a sudden everyone’s an expert on the Middle East.

Also your BLM comparison is a bit off because we’re still talking about a foreign country here? I don’t live in Jerusalem, I’m not standing with a billboard in Lod going ‘Hey remember Yemen?’ while far-right mobs wheeze past. This, to me and many others, is a foreign policy issue, and it’s urgent and horrific, but so are dozens of other things. All I’m saying is that there is no ‘the enemy of my enemy if my friend’ type of thing here. The Jewish right can no longer be reasoned with, and God knows the US has been a loose cannon for decades now, but Muslim leaders also have zero interest to help solve this issue, because they’d rather use Jews as a convenient scapegoat to rile up their own people so they forget about everything else. And this rhetoric mostly works - and is parroted so often in the West - because anti-Semitism, which is also a thing among non-Muslims both on the right and on the left. And you talk about fueling terrorism - Hamas is another rotten pawn in this rotten game and I’m not judging people who were born in such a horror for fighting back, but just to be clear it’s not Palestinians committing acts of terror in my country and many others, it’s young Algerians and Moroccans born here who listen to anti-Semitic bullshit from their families, imams and online friends 24/7. 

So, again - while we do need to talk about Palestine - and not only when it’s fashionable, btw - we can do better than this.

[sebsunset]

Creation, Both Haunted and Holy - CHAPTER 2!

I’ve been working on this thing for weeks straight, to make it as amazing as possible!

As always, I am dragging @muffinlance‘s AUs into my work

this is the angsty one :) yUP, the year-old au!

and don’t worry, i have another one in progress... also using a muffinlance- inspired au- one of the more obscure ones, i think!

Mother Hama is. Suspiciously nice to write, and very angsty

TRIGGERS: Graphic-ish descriptions of wounds and child abuse! Please beware, my dudes! Things will get better soon, but this is really really bad right now!

LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578904

OR, READ HERE :) 

In the moon’s light, an urutau-vulture screeches out its song, pure and eerie grief ringing out in the wind.

And that’s how Zuko’s mind briefly comes back to reality.

Awareness fading in and out with each breath he wheezes through.

With wakefulness, comes the purest of agonies. A mouth open, voice too hoarse to scream out for help.

The hot pain, all over him, the memories tugging at his head, the memories of-

The burning. A cleanse that felt so dirty, like-

Oh, the sheer smell of it-

Of him.

The smell of cooked meat is his.

He wheezes out a cough, remembers the time Mom had no servants to help her, and had asked Azula to light up the fire for them to cook.

He tries thrashing about, to get a good view.

Mom ought to be around there, around somewhere.

(Even if it’s been so long since she was last around.)

She must be there, somewhere he can’t see, maybe in the blurry shade of the trees. She will bring a bucket and cool water, and she will hold him and-

“W-Where’s mom?” he tries asking, to nothing, to no one.

But only one of his ears hear it, the raspy, damaged sound that he can hardly recognize as his own voice.

He tries to ask again, words broken, tear tracks he can only feel in one cheek.

The burning pain he struggles to breathe over.

He doesn’t know what happened, but he can’t move. Can’t do anything, nothing but begging for it to go away.

“Where?” his voice comes out, finally.

The pain in his throat finally registers with the blabbered words, and suddenly he feels like he’s been screaming for all too long.

I’m sorry, Larva, says the feeling of hands on him. I’m so sorry it came to this.

Ghostly hands that don’t quite hurt when they touch his left side.

There is no shadow to hold him, though.

He can’t remember what happened, but the questions come to his mind nonetheless.

Why does it hurt so much? Why is his arm numb, why can’t-

Go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe, little Vessel.

The voice is soft, warm.

And, as the moon sings her song, his brief moment of awareness fades off.

Only one eye closing, as he breathes out again.

Painful, laboral.

His last thought is that he hates it.

The tone in the voice.

It’s all too-

.

.

.

-

It’s in the way the moon sings, as the boy’s skin peels off.

It’s in the way he doesn’t let any infection set in.

Scabbing away as the days pass, as Vaatu tries to heal him.

But there’s a reason the two of them were together. Glued, some might say.

Possessed, united fully.

He is part of Zuko, he is his mind and he is confined, locked away from seeking any further help. Not while the boy is that hurt, not while he can’t be awake and alive on his own.

Were it not a tragedy of occasion, his tendency to lock himself in the tiniest confides would be quite entertaining to watch.

Maybe, were it not happening to him, of all creatures.

Truly, he has been reduced to cowering on corners, to being not much more than a shadow.

Was it selfish, to wish for freedom when he had given it up to save his Vessel?

The two of them had done it.

An Avatar State of their own volition.

A sacrilege against the nature of a human body, a way to twist and bend their souls, braided together into a necklace of rope.

He doesn’t want to tell his boy what happened.

What the two of them had done.

He was too young to know what their purpose really was.

What would happen next, once he managed to get Zuko awake for more than a few minutes, enough time for them to scavenge, to do anything?

But keeping him awake, at that moment, would be nothing short of insane.

Yes, he must change. But this is too painful. Vaatu can feel the pulsing, the infection begging to seep in, to eat away at their flesh.

The way the dead limb hangs limply, charred black. The way the damaged leg attracts flies, like a plate of fruit slathered in honey, only kept away by him.

Blisters that look like they could open into eyes, watch the world for them all.

And so, Vaatu brushes off the sickness, scares away the vermin.

Lets his presence seep through, for nothing can keep him from affecting the world, not even being tied so deeply to his vessel.

The woods grow around them, thick foliage, colorful flowers in the vines.

No other spirit to bless or curse them.

Just the lonesome pocket of the world to which Vaatu and his Vessel have gone.

He is the eye of the shadow, the chaos that lurks deep in that tiny, undisturbed piece of the world.

He is a warning to the creatures.

He warns the world to stay away, lest it feel his disruption. His returning strength, his effect on the world around them finally taking place again.

Now that they are united, he can see that they could easily become unstoppable.

Rotting limbs thrown into any position, blackened flesh still smelling like it's been cooked.

The way it all brews in the two of them is nauseating.

The sickness is in the bursts of consciousness, when the one eye that can close opens up, blurry from tears.

When his head faces up and he sobs, lonesome and in pain.

Vaatu tries keeping the pain at bay, even if just by lulling him to bed.

Their vengeance is yet to be completed.

Disaster will strike again, he will make sure of it.

He tries telling, he tries consoling.

We will come back, he says. Rest for now, their fate is incoming.

But he is just a voice in his head, the feeling of a ghost-limb that can't really pull back hair, brush away feverish sweat.

Even if their Vessel is growing more powerful, Vaatu feels as weak as he can be.

But, as consciousness slips away again, he can’t help but notice the way the world is shifting around them.

The way the rabbit-mice has started chasing the otter-fox.

It is a victory, but it feels wrong.

-

Unsteady feet, weight put all into one as Zuko drags himself up.

The pain is hot and hard, it almost drives away the overwhelming hunger.

He didn’t think it could get that bad.

It could be worse, Vaatu says, but his voice still sounds angry.

Maybe not at him, but angry nonetheless.

(Angry like-)

When coherency slips away from his mind, when the pain is too much, as each of his slow, measured hops grows more and more exhaustive, he feels something in him beg for destruction.

But he won’t.

In the same way that Vaatu won’t bring him food, in the same way he will stay quiet, never saying a word of what happened to him.

Zuko wants to proclaim that he isn’t forgiven, but for the moment, his focus is on the steps.

Barely more than hops, as his one useful hand hangs onto trees.

Bare feet, grass scratching up against the angry, still-bleeding skin.

The question is pressing, rubbing against the back of his mind, as he cries out and whines, intense pain barely dimmed.

How is he alive?

All firebenders are taught about the sheer power of their fire, about the great deeds and prowesses they can achieve.

About how much damage they can inflict upon their enemies, when they chose not to end their suffering.

It should be infected.

I am trying not to let that happen, Vaatu whispers in his head, like it's a secret, like saying it out loud will destroy their chances of it getting any better.

 He isn’t moving in the shadow.

“The left side feels green.” he says, barely noticing he’s speaking at all.

Sunlight streams in through the gaps in the foliage. The moon is going to rise up soon, and the world is orange and it all feels green.

Find help, the voice instructs. You need someone to help you.

“First, food.” he argues, hearing the rumbling of his stomach. “I mean- Where there is food, there are people.”

You make a surprisingly decent point, he says, and there ought to be some farmhouses around here.

Zuko shudders.

People watched back there, people saw his shame burned into skin, his last rite of passage.

His whining sounds pitiful to his own head, but he can’t make his mouth shut up.

Involuntary sounds, flinches and shudders, as he drifts through.

Tall grass scraping against his wound, every touch sending new jolts of it.

The gentle breeze, the falling petals of flowers, blown away by the wind.

All so gentle. The kind pulsing of the world’s fiery heart, a piece of peace in the battlefield of its little nations.

And all so, so very painful.

Maybe this tells more than it shows, but pain is hard to show through words, hard to show through barely coherent thoughts, by the mind of a child who had never been through such great agony before.

A bad leg that can’t sustain his weight much longer.

Tiny complaints amidst panting.

He feels like he is the only source of noise. The world is eerily still.

Holding its breath.

Zuko shudders, tree bark scraping at tiny hands.

He looks down on himself.

A foot half-blackened. White and violent red, all blistered and-

Cooked. Broken.

Zuko doesn’t look at his left arm.

He is all too broken, all too destroyed by the time he’s been through.

You aren’t, says the voice.

Scabs that peel away too easily, like they were never meant to form.

Droplets of blood calling for any animal. He is prey, and the world is so, so very much now.

The disorganization of the world doesn’t manage to feel quite right, quite how it should be.

Like someone’s disrupted it before, like they’ve re-organized the world into something it shouldn’t be.

Something hangs in the air, hidden but never overshadowed by the smell of his tracks.

Yes, deliberate.

They’re onto something, he realizes.

A pike of wood, somewhere from which a scarecrow once stood.

“A garden.” he says. “I think we’ve found a garden.”

Purring at the back of his head, his blurry eye half-focusing around him.

A bush at the entrance.

Calling to him.

Food.

It has to be food.

Overtaken by hunger, he can only see them.

The rest of the garden is just carrots, little beets and a cabbage or two.

Nothing that looks that sweet.

And so, Zuko drops down, hisses in pain and twitches about, before grabbing a handful of berries in his one hand.

Vaatu takes a minute too long to realize they’re the kind used to make rat poison.

-

Her abode is a humble one.

A tiny inn she’s set up, rooms rarely occupied.

Of course, she has other places for travelers to sleep in.

It’s her lair, made of damp wood, of floorboards that creak comfortably under her old feet. Of roofs that leak, of the smell of a harmless old person.

She has a thousand little closets, a million nooks and crannies.

Hidden memorabilia, memories she’s carved back up for herself.

All wheatered by rain and by soot, but kept clean and tidy, far away from the fire.

She didn’t have many clients, but she had more than enough time to tend to the ones she had.

And so she did, for a time.

She kept herself satisfied, working towards her goals day in and out.

Followed through with a routine, day in and day out. Cooked plenty for herself, made sure she had the energy to follow through with her tasks.

That night, she can feel the full moon.

A welcome presence above her, making the world pulse with her divinity.

She has blessed the woman with her presence, and so, that night, she will go…

Watch the moon.

It’s a nice way to talk about the indulgence in her favourite of all things.

When she can make the world malleable around her, when she can dance and sing, pulling at the strings that bind the world together.

She smiles, feels it pull at her eyes.

That night will be formidable, she thinks

With finality, she treks along.

Yet, she doesn’t feel alone.

How can she, when the full moon rises, making the world finally feel alive again?

 The leaves crackling under her feet as she strides, the roots and branches snapping under her like she is a mighty beast.

Remainders of the sun’s warmth slowly seeping out, Tui taking her rightful place in the throne of the sky.

Her court of stars, rising slow and steady in its march.

And the world is silent around her. She knows it ought to be gawking at her, the last of her kind.

“Oh?” comes out of her mouth, before she can even stop herself.

An ear strained out.

“What is that…” she tsk-s in amusement, looks around with a half-absent mind.

Just what poor creature dares it, to choke in her garden, to foam over the leaves of her poison, to die in Hama’s territory?

-

Wakefulness comes slowly.

 His brow furrows in confusion, only half his vision able to focus.

But he doesn’t need to.

All Zuko sees is darkness.

He shivers, suddenly hit with the sheer cold of the room.

It's eerie.

He doesn’t know where he is.

He lashes out, trashes about.

His feet burn. Tied together with rope.

There are no windows, the space cramped. The sickeningly sweet smell of mold, the only sound meeting his ears, his own panting.

Like a piece of bread that’s been left hanging around for all too long.

Something is wrong.

It’s in the way his tongue feels garbled when he tries to talk, it’s in the way he can’t quite move.

It’s in the involuntary twitching of a dead limb, that he can’t stop, even when it hurts.

He can’t sit up, wouldn’t even if the dizziness would let him.

Vessel, are you okay? comes to his head.

Why didn’t you stop me, he tries asking. Where are we? Why are we here?

There are no little hands in the shadows, no feeling of a ghost hand touching him.

But the pain is dulled, pushed back.

Cloaked.

“Where am I?” he looks around. “Va-Voice, where are we?”

Someone brought us here, Larva. Get up,  I’m curious.

“Then move on your own.” he spits. “I’m tied up. Stupid.”

Regret makes him shake his head, but Vaatu is too old to hold up a grudge.

I can’t. We are united now, Larva. We are one in the same, and wherever you go, I go too.

“Chained?” he remembers. Like he is. Stuck, chained.

Chained. But fret not, my Larva, for stagnation will not come back to us. For now, though, you shall recover your energies.

A groan, as he lifts his hand, swipes a bug from his brow.

You sound like Uncle goes unsaid, but leaves the taste of bile on his mouth nonetheless.

Shudders, head shakes. The feeling of strands of patchy hair brushing against his shoulder.

He may not be alone, but there's no armor, no protection.

Zuko shivers, suddenly cold.

A part of him would give anything for that surge of power, for the feeling of the elements at his will, ready to be summoned up, to be harnessed and used as he deems fit.

For anything that can protect him, even with the collateral damage.

He can’t do anything, but he struggles to turn to his side nonetheless, to crawl out of the pile of rags that was his bed.

He can’t get up, so he drags his body along, pulls it slowly.

A trail of blood from his left side, scraped against the floorboards.

Dragged by his hand, whining and growling.

He can’t untie himself, no matter how much he tries.

Some kind of different knot - intricate, woven tight.

Vaatu guides him slowly, words that barely register to his mind.

Nausea, the feeling of ants crawling at the tips of his fingers as he drags himself to the door.

Get to the door - away from the fabric, it burns too easily - and then you can burn through the rope.

And suddenly, he wants to scream.

“I’m not burning myself. Shut up!” he plops onto his right side, drool pooling at the left corner of his mouth.

Beyond his control.

You know how to control the heat. It wouldn’t hurt. It's like pulling a bandage.

“Shut up.” he tries screaming, but his voice comes off hoarse.

… I apologize. I understand your fear, Vessel.

“I’m not forgiving you.”

I won’t let you stagnate for long, but feel free to stand your ground for a few more days.

“I’ll give you a week.” A bit of snark, that comes off soft.

A dry chuckle that breaks through the darkness.

He rolls his eyes, but can’t bring a smile up. He knows it would hurt. It would sting on his face, it would pull at the burns.

He reaches the door, struggles onto his knees, pulls at the handle.

Rattled, shaken, pulled and pushed with the feeblest of strengths.

Breaths growing quicker, as the weight of what he had done sets onto his shoulders.

Oh, what he did-

You should’ve eaten your vegetables, comes out as a light-hearted attempt, falling so very short.

“Shut up.” he wants to yell, because he’s locked in a strange home and oh Agni-

It’s dawning on him, slowly and steadily, just what he did.

Just what happened.

He hurt them.

(He did much worse.)

Falls to the floor. Looks at his one hand.

Now only one. Covered with little burns, old marks of his failures set onto his wrists. Little reminders of hands that were once there.

His breath, puffing out as smoke in the dark, cold room.

And suddenly, tears are falling down onto his hand.

(Father did that.)

No voice to comfort him. Nothing but the oppressiveness of his lonesome state.

Zuko wants to drown in tears, but his left eye refuses to cry, his bony body refuses to shake with sobs just yet.

So he just shrinks in there, holds himself close through the pain, pretends someone else is there to hold him.

"W-why?" He asks, feeling only half of his mouth move.

Words coming out garbled, blabbered through tears.

No answer comes, and he feels all alone.

He is a big boy, he wants to remind himself.

A big boy indeed, and that's why he cries and cries and cries, ignoring how the hollow place of the moon is soon filled by Agni’s eye.

-

The walks back home tend to be a less than exciting ordeal.

Oh, of course there's glee. Catharsis, even.

But lately, there’s some more than that. There’s the weight of the years on her shoulders, the soreness on her legs, the ache engraved deep into her bones.

That’s the vengeance of her people, of the men and women slain, torn down from the inside, overtaken by insanity.

She was meant to do it. It was why the art had come to her, it was why she had mastered it.

To bring down the rain of vengeance.

Nonetheless, that particular walk was made through with a quicker step, with a less vengeful head.

She had spent so long hurting, and the ones who hurt were the ones who learned how to heal the best.

She knew where to make it ache, and she had studied plenty of how to heal before.

(Kanna and her, studying scrolls that would be burned less than a day later, until late at the night.

Listening to the tribe's men sing and dance around the campfire, laughing and betting. Rolling their eyes, t hey healed eachother with little kisses by the moonlight, as Hama listened to Tui's song, to the calling of the full moon.

And with her friend's mittened hand in hers, she closed her eyes and felt the warm pulse of a world suddenly coming to life.

In the night's light, the cold wind whipping against their warm bodies, they danced together.

A dance that would soon turn into brisk movements, into desperate jabs.

But, at the moment and to that very day, the times before were painted with a rose-tinted glass.)

What mattered was that she had a patient, someone hurt as badly as she once was.

A son of ash and soot, a child with an eye burned open, blinded but still moving.

A child whose mere existence, whose life was astounding to her. How could that little thing keep going, how could he crawl to her and lay by her grassbed?

A little creature that proved her either insane or lucky enough to have a spirit in her hands.

He was going to be useful, she had decided when she found him foaming at the mouth, turning and twisting, rubbing dirt all over the open wound.

She’d cleaned him up, she had left him a nice little room, for an ashmaker that had yet to pay her back.

He would be grateful, that was certain.

And she’d seen first hand, how gratitude could destroy a man. Break down his flesh, make him bow and worship like a dog.

(She'd stood, suspended in her cell, watching an affair below.

The guard with bright yellow eyes, a glint like that of golden daggers, pointed towards her favorite prisoner.

A young woman, barely more than a girl.

She was from a neighboring tribe. Beautiful button nose and plump lips, bowing down low, foreign words slipping off her tongue.

She was meant to sing to the moon and the sea, but she sung their tribe’s songs upon anyone’s request. Danced as well as she could, tied up in chains.

A slap to the back of her head, something in the dirty ashmaker's speech.

A correction, two apologies delivered in a low bow.

Forgiveness in the form of a plump bowl of jook and not much else.)

Her garden blooms around her.

What little use she could make of the soil there. Little plants, poisonous berries. Nothing too beautiful or lavish. She was just a humble old woman, afterall.

She’d been nice, asked around the village. Seeds, some tools. She was sweet and defenseless, and nobody ever dared suspect her to her face.

The village had never been a tribe.

And the house she lived in had always been just that. A house. Some might stretch it and call it a lair.

Not quite a home, as much as she tries to keep it cold, to make it feel like one when she closed her eyes, and look like one when she dared open them up.

That place is still a land of fire. Lava below her, the sun all too hot, not a single break in his wicked reign.

She misses the polar winters. They’d always been so good for weeding out the weak and the fiery alike.

Perhaps her glasses are tinted blue, contrasting all too sharply against the blood-red of that place.

But the point still stands in her mind. That place is no real home.

It doesn't have the foundations to be one.

It doesn't have the people to make it one.

There’s no Kana or Panuk or any of the children running about. There is no tribe to embrace her, no new stories to tell around the campfire. No dealings with the neighbors, and no polar-bear sled dogs to lead to the market every month.

There’s only the oppressive loneliness of a single person lost in the sea of snakes.

But for now, she can rejoice in the luxury of a new toy. One that can be mended, sewn and filled up with the truth. A child of ash, all hers.

(Malleable as the water she’d once sculpted into ice.)

Slow footsteps, steady smile. A bit of excitement, despite the bits of a lazy cat in her demeanor.

The doors of the inn, all open and empty.

Until the locked closet.

It’s their smallest room. It’s perfect for someone that small, that frail.

A plant left in a pot too big will soon spread, grow out of control.

If he grows up well enough, if his leaves twist and bend and his roots stretch out as he tries to reach the sun, she will put him on a leash.

Hama had been wanting something to keep her entertained.

-

He sobs and heaves and nearly vomits once or twice.

Snot and bile, no comfort, no caress.

Not a word amidst the fit. Nothing that he can hear, nothing that can make itself noted in his mind.

His body hurts, but there is no infection to take him away, to lend him a hand.

He can’t think straight. Repulse fills his throat whenever he thinks of himself, whenever he opens his eye for enough time to truly see himself.

And he can’t do this, he thinks.

Like any child does, he slips into a spiral, falls down and down.

Thoughts swirling in his head, screams that his throat can't force out.

Until something breaks through, snaps him out of it.

The sound of a door creaking open.

A tiny stream of the morning’s light drifts into the room, so gentle yet so bright, revealing dust that doesn’t quite form bunnies and mold growing on the walls of a cramped closet.

The decrepit coldness is suddenly accentuated, with the gentle warmth that hits his back.

He shudders, suddenly, as the light is taken away.

When he turns, a figure stands, back-lit in the doorway.

Old and hunched, his blurry eyes barely able to focus on anything but her kind smile.

He turns to her, ready to question why she left his legs tied up, why she locked him there, how long he'd been alone, what she wants to do now-

“Are- Are you-” he tries stuttering out a question, but suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t know just what he wants to ask.

She comes closer, looks down upon him.

“Bow down and ask, young one.” she says, gently. “Be respectful of this old woman, won’t you?”

Vaatu growls at the back of his head, and, for a second, he forgets that his friend is simply locked inside his mind, with no real effect on the world once they’re not alone.

So, he breathes in deep, pretends there’s nothing wrong inside him.

And drops down in a rigit bow, so the kind woman won’t burn him.

“I am Hama. Who are you?” a cane pokes his burnt side, the arm that’s no longer there.

Deep breath. He knows who he is, and so will she.

“I’m Zuko. Son of-”

“Nobody.” she says. The harsh word startles him, slipped in such a gentle voice. “Not anymore. Not after what happened to you.”

He tries again.

“Zuko, son of P-”

A poke from the cane, right in a blister. He flinches and hisses, unable to stop himself.

“You are a son of nobody.” she says, her voice sweet as the smell of moldy grain. “After all that must’ve happened to you, it’s better as that. Poor thing.”

That silence lasts for a few seconds, before her voice returns, kinder, to his sight of nothing but fetid floorboards.

 “Now, young one, tell me, what have they done to you?”

He won’t say. He won’t speak out again.

Not when Vaatu hisses, pure in his anger, taking over his head.

“Don’t you think you owe me that, after all I’ve helped you with?” a cane pokes his head, gently thumping against his skull. No real intention for pain, not on his bad side.

He gulps down something.

A single tear hits his lip, salty against the bitterness in his mouth.

Why does he cry? Why do the tears betray his mind, why does his gut feel so raw?

“I- I was burned.” he says.

“That I can see.” she says, gently. “Now come on, darling. I must know your affliction to heal you.”

“I was burned and banished.” he says. Words spilling out dirty and fetid and spat out like falling teeth.

But he tells no more. Hopefully, she won't see any tales of spirits, any curses or blessings to destroy.

(What if she wants to cleanse him, too?)

“Oh, dear.” she says, voice perfect in compassion.

Be careful, Vessel, Vaatu says in his head. His voice no longer a hiss, just a thought at the back of his mind. Do not trust her. Do not.

“That is very unfortunate.” she says. “Then, you aren’t Zuko, are you? As a banished boy, you have no name.”

“I- I still have my honor.” is the only defense he can give her.

And she laughs.

It would be warm, infectious as any other disease, were it not happening at that moment, when he felt raw and when his vulnerability was so easy to turn into anger.

“I am Hama, and you are Nobody.”

This is the point where the scene should end. Here, it should all fade away to silence, to maybe a sob or two, a twitch or whine at his own discomfort, until he is instructed to get up.

But please, remember just who we are talking about.

Nothing ends when or how it should, down here.

“B-But-” he tries stammering out, his heart thundering in his chest. His voice can’t come out as a scream, but it tries.

Maybe, a part of him thinks, his voice will be heard then.

She pokes him again, straight at the ribs.

“Nobody.” she says. “Nobody, with that attitude.”

If only she knew, he wanted to say.

Be nobody, Vaatu whispers, locked inside his head.

Zuko wants to fight. He wants to bite and gnash and destroy, to bend and twist and fall upon that state again, that state that made him-

“Not nobody,” he says. “I- I’ll prove to you. I’m not nobody. I swear on my honor.”

He can feel her smile.

“Son of nobody, then.” she says. “But make good on that promise, please.”

Hissing in his head, he looks up.

Tap, straight at a hollowed-out cheek.

“Stay down.” she says. “The light might hurt your eyes, so keep down low, son. I’ll get you something to eat.”

-

[atla-hcs-and-bakoda]

Sun & Moon #1

Lu Ten, since the beginning of the au, has gained many family members. many good, healthy, stable family members. he’s glad, as he was afraid he’d be stuck with his manipulative uncle, very creepy grandfather, and war-torn nation for the rest of his life.

Now, however, he has these people he considers family: (he has a tendancy to just adopt people on sight, wonder where he got that from)

Ursa & Kya - Aunts, but he sees them as mother figures, as his own died years ago

Hakoda, Bato, & Ikem - Uncles, but also like a second, third, and fourth father respectively

Iroh - Father, of course. gets a lot of his personality and quirks from him.

Kuei - Husband and best friend, completely trusts him with his life 

Toph & Smellerbee - Daughters, loves to train with them in his spare time

Jet & Longshot - Sons, also trains with them, but gets taught Archery by longshot a few weeks after meeting him

Zuko, Sokka, Azula, Katara, Kanaaq, & Chenric - Cousins, adores all of them equally, has memorised their favourite gifts

Aang - Little brother, absolutely adores him

Appa & Momo - mentally adopted them as his own pets the moment he met them

Teo - brother-in-law, thinks his wheelchair is so cool, totally a bit jealous Teo can fly and he cant

Haru - son-in-law, definitely got really excited then pretty emotional when Jet told him that he had a boyfriend

Yue - cousin-in-law, but has a sibling relationship with her

Kanna - Gran-gran, loves hearing her stories and tales, spends half of his time at the SWT playing pai-sho with her

Hama - has a healthy amount of fear and respect for her, she is a bloodbender, but gets attached to her anyway. it takes a while for Hama to warm up to the fire nation side of her new family, but eventually she accepts them.

Suki - Cousin-in-law, trains with her frequently when she visits, definitely little sister/eldest daughter relationship

Mai & Ty Lee - not officially in the family, but definitely considers them family anyway. Adores them both and got chi-block training from Ty Lee, showed Mai his throwing knife collection within the first hour of meeting her way back when she and ty lee were little kids. the knife collection has grown a lot since, and he infodumps about a lot of them when Mai comes to visit.

Druk - do i need to explain this? he’s gotten extremely attached to druk, and both whine when lu ten has to go home (he’s mostly joking, he loves the earth kingdom, but goddamn it he wants a dragon)

Bosco - instead, he settles for a bear. He has a more chill, relaxed relationship with Bosco than Kuei has with the bear. although lu ten has been caught fast asleep on the floor with bosco curled up around him before.

Piandao - isn’t going to complain about getting another family member, and was already close to him before it, so hes extra close to him now. likes teasing him about how awkward Piandao can get around Jeong Jeong, but always shuts up when Piandao teases him about being so flustered around Kuei. He considers it to be a tie every time.

Jeong-Jeong - cousin-in-law, likes him but doesn’t spend much time with him, wants to but has certain old-white-haired-firebending-men issues and such, so they stick to a “your my family, i care about you, but don’t touch me” relationship

Bonus: the rest of his bio family:

Azulon - refuses to be left alone with him, refuses to stand close to him, would’ve refused to even look or speak to him if Azulon hadn’t been firelord. Azulon’s the reason he’s uncomfortable around old men he doesnt know.

Ozai - until ozai got crowned, they were on rough speaking terms, a thin tolerated line they both walked on. However, he does have some good early-childhood memories of ozai doing his hair for him in the mornings. Nowadays, he tries not to remember Ozai even exists in the first place.

Sozin - never got to meet him, knows damn well Sozin was gay, but hates him for the whole ‘started a war’ thing. spat on his grave when he was 14 bc of the ban on gay marriage.

Ilah - azulon’s wife. got along very well with her, actually. he was the favourite grandchild of hers- azulon didnt care enough to have a favourite- so when he thinks back to his memories with his mother, he either pictures Illah, Ursa, or Kya.

[waytoomanyinterests]

Southern waterbending

You know what upsets me the most when it comes to war?

All the knowledge that’s just quietly destroyed, with no way of ever being recovered.

This makes me so damn sad and upset, and the example that comes to the forefront of my mind (and also what I’m going to discuss) is from the universe of Avatar the Last Airbender;

Southern-style waterbending.

Since the only ones who’ll read this are people that’s part of this fandom I don’t have to explain all that much.

But we all know Firelord Azulon ordered for the capturing of the Southern water tribe’s waterbenders, and as of the beginning of season 1 the only waterbender in the entire South Pole is Katara.

Since there are no master waterbenders in the South Pole, Katara has to go to the North Pole in order to learn and master waterbending.

This is all made clear in the show itself and I didn’t reflect on it cause duh, of course she has to go the place that actually have waterbenders.

The thing is that she learns the Northern style of waterbending, not Southern. (for obvious reasons but just wanted to make it clear)

That isn’t made as clear in the show, and I know I didn’t give it a second thought until S2E10 (the Library) and Wan Shi Tong delivers this line;

“Your waterbending won’t do you much good here. I’ve studied Northern waterstyle, Southern waterstyle, even Foggyswamp style”

Sokka immediately after is hilarious but not the point

Now this, this, is when I first went “woah, hold up - how the fuck is anyone supposed to learn Southern waterstyle bending?? All the benders are gone!”

And I mean this became a legit concern for me - I don’t want Southern waterbending to just disappear, but there isn’t anyone around who knows it anymore so what the frick is gonna happen.

Then comes S3E8 - The Puppeteer.

The minute everything is out in the open Hama offers to teach Katara what she knows and Katara is thrilled to learn more about her heritage.

I am too, because yay the Southern style won’t just disappear it’s party time!!!

And then it’s here! We’re at the edge of our seats, ready to learn all about another side of waterbending and-

She doesn’t bring up the Southern style. at. all.

Like yes okay, knowing how to survive in a foreign country is important but that’s not the heritage lesson I was expecting! (whining) I was expecting Southern waterbending!!

And it just frustrates me to no end that because Hama’s gone so is any chance of Southern waterstyle existing for the rest time!!

But then the solution came to me! (two actually, and I did get some inspo from different posts around the fandom for the Zuko one, but I haven’t seen the Aang one anywhere so Imma just take credit for it as of now lolol)

Solution 1:

- Zuko is looking through the vaults where most of the loot from the war is kept in search of something (don’t know exactly what)

- he’s doing it himself, cause frankly he’s in need of a break from his duties and he doesn’t really trust anyone else to do this

- after hours of fruitless searching he’s become quite irritated and is more forceful than he was when he began

- huffing, he tears open an ordinary looking chest and finds it filled to the brim with scrolls upon scrolls

- he groans as he knows he’s going to have to read each one, and after a few seconds of finding strength and resolve he begins the tedious work

- muttering under his breath he rolls out the first scrolls and to his surprise they’re filled with waterbending forms

- a bit more alert and curious he looks through more of the scrolls, and each one is filled with waterbending forms

- after thinking it through for a few seconds he shrugs and decides to give them to Katara, they don’t exactly do much use here and she will probably appreciate them

- a few weeks passes by before he has an opportunity to hand them over

- Katara rises an eyebrow at the chest he puts down by her feet, but he only gestures for her to look

- so she does

- the first scroll she picks up shows forms she’s never seen before and she teasingly congratulates Zuko on managing to find her waterbending forms she hasn’t known existed (“Very impressive, since I’ve at least seen practically every waterbending form out there”)

- she hasn’t seen any of the forms on the second scroll either, and she kind of starts to knit her eyebrows together in confusion

- nor has she seen any of the forms from the third scroll

- or the fourth

- or fifth

- or sixth

- by now she’s majorly confused and kind of scared cause what the fuck is this because she should have recognized at least one form by now, but nothing rings a bell

- knowing she probably won’t recognize any of the others either she decides to send one of the scrolls to Pakku to see if he recognizes them

- Pakku is at first just as confused as Katara and is examining the scroll when one of the elders walks by and throws a look at it over his shoulder

- “Oh, I remember watching the waterbenders perform the annual Solstice performance with these forms when I was just a little girl! It was magical”

- Pakku. just. freezes

- “Wait are you- are you saying that these are Southern style waterbending forms?!”

- the elder looks confused

- “There’s a difference between Northern and Southern waterbending? But yes, I especially remember that one -“ (points at a random form) “- it was a sight to behold when performed right, I can tell you that!”

- the elder then walks on with a small smile on her face, stuck in her memories

- Pakku on the other hand is just shellchocked at this discovery and unable to move

- when he does wake up from his trance he scrambles after a quill and some parchment to write back to Katara about this, knowing how important it will be to her since she’s the only Southern Waterbender left

- Katara gets the letter a few days after and practically collapses

- Zuko, whom was conveniently passing by the room Katara’s staying in at the palace, hears a lot of crashing from inside

- thinking an assasination in undercurrent he bursts into the room, fists flaming, only to find Katara on her knees with a letter in hand and the furniture in the room knocked down on the floor

- immediately putting out the fire on his hands he scrambles to console her which he does very awkwardly cause he’s still new to this but he’s trying and he’s just adorable

- when he can’t get a response from Katara he gently takes the letter and reads it himself

- and is left just as speechless

- but when he looks at Katara again, he panics

- cause tears are rolling slowly down her face, and he has no freaking idea what do to

- but as the tears roll faster and faster, and sobs racks her body she solves the problem herself by throwing her arms around Zuko

- he stiffens, unsure of what exactly to do but eventually wraps his own arms around her

- they stay like that for awhile, not talking but rather just calming down

- the silence is broken when Katara starts to chuckle

- chuckle

- Zuko is flabbergasted and very confused because she was just crying and now she’s chuckling but still crying and oh god what’s going on

- “Are- are you okay, Katara?”

- “I’m more than okay Zuko! Thanks to you the Southern waterstyle won’t die, it will live on”

- Zuko’s mouth forms an ‘O’-shape and Katara chuckles a bit more at his cute expression

- “Just this shows how different you are to your father - he would have burned them, but you saved them, gave them to me and now I can learn about my heritage! The Southern waterstyle bending will live on and it’s all thanks to you!”

- “I wouldn’t sell you too short either”

- then they just smile at each other

(alternatively Zuko was looking for Southern waterbending scrolls from the beginning as a present to Katara and knows what they are when he founds them)

(and Zutara is definitely canon)

Scenario 2:

- This time instead of Zuko wanting to find a present for Katara, it’s Aang who wants to

- he wants the perfect gift and is willing to go to any lengths to find it

- even if it means putting himself at danger

- he knows how disappointed Katara was when Hama didn’t really teach her anything of the Southern waterstyle bending

- so he decides to venture into the Spirit World

- more exactly to Wan Shi Tong’s library

- his goal is to convince the spirit to allow him to take the scrolls featuring Southern waterstyle bending

- which he knows will be probably impossible because Wan Shi Tong hates him after last time

- but he does it anyway, because Katara deserves to know about her heritage and this is the only solution as to how

- he stands outside the library a few seconds too much, trying to scrape up whatever courage he can find

- it’s barely anything

- knowing he can’t stall much longer without someone realizing he’s gone he enters the library

- immediately Wan Shi Tong is there, staring down at him with hard, unforgiving eyes

- “I haven’t the faintest clue why you’re even here Avatar - I thought I made it clear that you nor any human for that matter is welcome to my library”

- Aand bows to the ground, pressing his forehead to the floor

- “Honorable knowledge spirit, I know and understand I misused the trust you so graciously put in me and my friends last time we entered your library. I however beg of you to just let me go and collect the scrolls you have on Southern waterstyle bending - as of now there is not a single person in the living world who knows that style of bending, but I know the perfect person to bring the knowledge forward”

- “And just who would that be?”

- “Katara of the Southern Water tribe”

- “Ah, one of your little friends”

- “Yes, but she is from the South Pole and I know that it would mean the world to her if she could learn of her heritage. She would not misuse its power, but rather use it for the greater good. And besides, if knowledge isn’t shared then what is its purpose? Let the Southern waterstyle come to life again oh great spirit, don’t let it waste away here where it has no use”

- “Please?” (cue the puppy eyes)

- Wan Shi Tong is silent for a long time, scrutinizing and analyzing the young Avatar, trying to find what his real purpose of the knowledge is

- he finds nothing but honesty, sincerity and a want to make someone happy

- so against his better judgement he lets Avatar Aang collect the scrolls he has on the topic

- Aand beams up at this gigantic spirit as if it was an old friend and happily skips along

- “Oh, do you wish to come with me? So that you can see that I only collect the right scrolls? Besides, the faster I find them the faster I’ll be out of your hair!”

- Wan Shi Tong blinks once

- twice

- thrice

- “That’s quite alright Avatar, I’ll just send one of my foxes with you. But I appreciate your willingness to prove yourself”

- a fox appears and Wan Shi Tong disappears into the depths of the library, his silhouette the last Aang ever sees of him

- Aang quickly befriends the little fox who’s been assigned to him and they play while walking towards the waterbending section

- they quickly collect every scroll and book and scrap of paper they can find on Southern Waterbending before Aang takes his leave after hugging the fox

- before leaving he whispers a thank you into the library, and bows as well as he can with everything he’s carrying

- he doesn’t get an answer but he feels a lot lighter leaving then arriving, a sense of truce coming over him

- the fox watches the Avatar leave with droopy ears since his playmate has to go - he hasn’t had that much fun in a long time! - but also feels the satisfaction of a job well done as the Avatar seems happy

- the fox still wishes he could have stayed though, but he’s used to people arriving only to leave

- Aang on the other hand quickly makes sure he gets back to his body and the material world, feeling incredibly happy with the weight in his arms

- a week later it’s time to give Katara the present and Aang nervously bites his nails as she opens it, snickering at how nervous he his

- “Relax Aang, I’ll love it no matter what!”

- she finally opens one of the scrolls and throws a look at it

- “Ohh, waterbending scrolls! Neat, thanks Aang!”

- “Uhm, they’re eh, actually they’re not regular waterbending scrolls per se but rather, uhm, waterbending scrolls that show Southern waterstyle forms”

- he sheepishly rub his neck while Katara gapes at him

- “They’re- but how?- where?-“

- “Uhm, I kind of, maybe, sorta went into the spirit world and entered Wan Shi Tongs library and managed to convince him to give me the information he had on Southern waterbending and we became buddies or not really buddies more like we formed a truce but I did find a friend in one of the foxes and-“

- “You went into Wan Shi Tongs library?!”

- Katara punches him for that because “goddammit are you stupid Aang, you could have died and not even this is worth to pay the price of you dying!”

- she immediately hugs him afterwards though, long and tight because this idiotic little goofball did it for her and she couldn’t be more grateful or happy

- Aang happily returns it, having enough sense to pretend Katara isn’t sniffling cause he knows she trie to hide it

- Afterwards they immediately start to practice and it turns into a routine; they learn some new forms, discuss what differs the most from Northern waterstyle and also similarities

- they both enjoy it very much and has a lot of fun while practicing

Yeah so here Kataang is canon

(Psst, the good thing is that in either of those you can just pretend that they aren’t together if you don’t ship it)

Alright so that’s my take on it!

What do you think, is it possible? Good? Could it happen?

Also, Zutara or Kataang?

Hope you liked it, now bye bye!

(This took so long to write god damn I’m finished)

[yellowjets]

Response to Ilhan Omar 2.0

Two undeniable truths about Ilhan Omar: she hates Trump and she hates Israel. You cannot argue this. Omar has made it her mission to cause fear of Israel in the Democratic party, misrepresent them, use that fear to incite more hatred against Trump, rally against him, and further her own political agenda.

1. "Under pressure from Donald Trump"

What the average American may not understand, is that Bibi doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do. Trump's comments may have been the green light to go ahead with this decision, but it is highly likely it would have happened anyway. Israel gets pressure from many world leaders about other issues and Bibi chooses not to listen. Trump does not hold some sort of power over him, and Omar suggesting otherwise is really just an attempt at causing more fear of Trump on the left.

2. "Trump's Muslim ban"

Ahh yes, the old Muslim ban, something that never actually happened. Again Omar uses a false American concept to sweep the real reasons she's been banned under the rug. Both Omar and Tlaib are supporters and advocates of BDS, a movement that is widely accepted as not only anti-jewish, but also has been proven to heavily effect Arabs living in the West bank in a negative way. All it does is breed hatred towards the Jewish state and leads to boycotts of Jewish businesses outside of Israel. (Remember the last guy who did that?) This is the reason they are refused entry, not because of faith. You really think the leader of any other country would allow people in who directly call for the boycott of said country and its people? Absolutely not. But of course, Omar knows she can lie about this because people are ignorant and will not bother looking for correct information.

3. "Limits our abilities to learn from Israelis"

Yay! The first true statement. Unfortunately it's irrelevant considering its pretty difficult to learn from people you're busy boycotting. Literally no one, not a single person on this planet actually believes you want to "learn from Israelis". This was an expose Israel mission from the get go. One that has been conducted many times before, and usually ends up with not much to expose, and turns into some libellous exercise instead. Recently there was an assertion in a final year test in Australia that the IDF destroys homes in the West bank because the Muslim population refuses to accept Judaism. This is unbelievably untrue, and extremely damaging to Jews everywhere. This is the sort of mess Omar and Tlaib would have come back spouting. If you don't believe me, two seconds ago Omar was talking about a non existent Muslim ban in Israel.

4. "Resisted peace efforts"

Now I'm not exactly sure which peace efforts Bibi has participated in, but when the most recent peace deal has been rejected by the Palestinian government, Hamas is still firing rockets from Gaza and organising protests that involve incendiary kites and balloons, as well as Molotov cocktails and burning tires, the Palestinian government is still encouraging terrorism from the West bank by paying out families of terrorists, and changing the schoolbooks in Palestinian classes to be even more anti-jewish, when all of this is realised, it really fair to say that Israel has resisted peace?

5. "Restricted movement of Palestinians"

I think you spelt "Israelis" wrong. Palestians, while yes they do have to go through rigorous security and checkpoints between borders, are able to move freely between all areas of the West bank and Israel. Israelis, however, are unable to go to many parts of Palestinian run areas in the West bank, many of which include holy sites for the Jewish people. A Palestinian, may take any bus in Israel or the West bank, an Israeli may not. Unless of course Omar means Israel blowing up terror tunnels... That would tend to restrict Palestinian movement, but I'm sure any normal person would agree to that one.

6. "Limited public knowledge of the brutal realities of the occupation"

My FAVOURITE! Just because you, Omar, seem to have very limited knowledge of pretty much anything Israel/Palestine related, it doesn't make that Bibi's fault. The truth is out there, maybe like, go on Wikipedia as a starting point. The reality of the "occupation" is that Gaza is uninhabited by Jews, and has had no IDF presence for the last 5 years. The West bank has areas totally run by the PA where Jews cannot enter, and an IDF presence to limit terrorist attacks on Jewish civilians. That is the reality.

7. "Aligned himself with islamaphobes like Donald Trump"

Fair point, also irrelevant when you yourself align with and support terrorists who openly call for the destruction of the Jewish state, and the wiping out of the Jewish people.

8. "It is my job..."

It is not your job to lie about the realities of the conflict, to express biased support for one side, attempt to go to a country with the intent to "expose" (read: lie about) it, and then whinge about how you weren't allowed the opportunity to learn from them when you have already expressed intent to boycott those who could teach you.

9. "Insult to democratic values"

My right to kill someone is outweighed by their right to live. Your right to go to a country with the intent of supporting it's enemies, who have called for its destruction and the murder of its people is similarly, outweighed by their right to live.

Final thoughts:

Israel made the right decision. These women would have come in with the intent to slander Israel when they got out. That would inflame the already existing conflict even more and potentially cost lives of both Jewish and Palestinian civilians. For Omar and Tlaib to sit there and whine about it is pathetic. They know why they can't go, they know by making a fuss they will gain support, but Israel knows the cost of letting them in will be greater.

[arcticdementor]

No, Nancy Pelosi is not the leader of the Democrat Party, nor are any of the 723 goofs running for its 2020 nomination. It’s a triumvirate that rules, but not a cool one like Caesar, Pompey and Crassus. Those dead white males actually had a track record of success. This triumvirate is composed of that adolescent who tweets a lot, that one CAIR fan from Michigan who didn’t marry her brother, and the one CAIR fan from Minnesota who allegedly did. That is their complete list of achievements, all of them: Tweeting and cheerleading Islamic militants. Oh, and whining. Lots of whining.

…

And yet, they run the whole Democrat show. They are the voice of their party. Their agenda is its agenda. Nancy ought to just stay home.

And we should celebrate this. Not because one of the two major American parties have fallen into these people’s hands. That’s a bad thing, and indicative of the utter moral and intellectual bankruptcy at the core of modern liberalism. We should celebrate it because the 2020 election is coming and it will be really hard for the Democrats keep a hold on the few remaining normal Americans who support the party out of habit when the collective face of the party is these three banshees cruising around cable TV and the Internet always screaming nonsense.

Can you see their planning session for last week? “I have an idea about how to appeal to normal Americans! Let’s minimize 9/11, diss a Navy SEAL who got his eye blown up by a jihadi bomb, and then pretend criticizing our idiocy is encouraging people to murder us. Oh, and let’s hate on the Jews!”

Of course, that never happened. Their plan never was, never has been, and never will be, to appeal to normal Americans. They have no interest in us, except as slaves or, more likely, as a vaguely troubling memory of a problem solved long ago. Guess how they would solve us? Not sure? Well, there’s this thing called “history,” and you can look up leftism’s track record regarding unapproved people like us unless Google is hiding the results for that too.

…

Now, most of the zillion Dems running for the chance to get shellacked by Trump in two years are not particularly bright, but they do have some level of animal cunning and they have got to see that the stupidity that gets the goatee gang slapping their paws in Brooklyn is going to play poorly in Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and the parts of Minnesota that aren’t Mogadishu. But the candidates have a problem, because they don’t dare go against the real party leadership. Cross one of them and you’ll draw down the shrill, up-talking wrath of Rep. Shemp or Congresswoman Curley.

Free Spirit Dancing Girl pretty much said that not agreeing with her pal was like the Holocaust; oddly, she was not roundly laughed at by our awesome elite. Chris Hayes nearly soiled himself over the threat posed by criticizing his allies. Bernie the Jolly Stalinist, sucked up. Big Chief Spewing Bull tried to get on the Commie Bachelorette Party’s good side and jumped in to chide President Trump for pointing out that maybe it’s not cool to mock 9/11. Perfectly Normal Beer-Liking Liz says that by criticizing the Democrat leadership Trump is encouraging violence against these endlessly yakking pinkos, which is weird because he didn’t send anyone to a softball field.

This “criticizing me puts me at risk” ploy is imported from colleges where SJWs literally shake at the threat posed by ideas they dislike. The answer is, of course, for us to exponentially increase the criticism they object to. Unlike the terrified Democrats who see these knuckleheads ruining the 2020 ruse by spilling the beans and telling everyone what the party really thinks, we will continue to say whatever we please. We’ll roll the dice and take the risk.

…

Of course, Rep. One Who May Have Married Her Bro considers the NRA the real terrorist gang. Not Hamas, not Hezbollah – why, those are just caring folk working together for a better tomorrow. No, the terrorists are you – you just happen to be really bad at it since NRA members haven’t actually committed any terrorist acts. Whatever. Anyway, the bottom line, as if you couldn’t guess, is that she thinks that you need to be disarmed, which would probably not work out so well for you considering who she thinks should still have guns. Expect the Democrats to follow their leaders on this idea too.

[roguenewsdao]

Did Mandalay Bay Attack Itself?

"Jim Murren is donating MGM shareholder money to CAIR. They were named by the Justice Dept. as 'an unindicted co-conspirator to Muslim terrorism....' CAIR was created to support the Palestinian terrorist organization Hamas. "  -- Wayne Allyn Root, August 29, 2017, Townhall.com

How many times have we said it? Repeat after me: Follow The Money! While the Sheeple and the MSM are "mystified" by the apparent lack of motive of Las Vegas Shooting patsy Stephen Paddock, neither the enlightened readers of Rogue Money nor anybody else who can do 15 minutes' worth of internet research, need feel so handicapped.

Casinos Are a Perfect Source for Terror Financing

Let's start with the parent company of Mandalay Bay. This is a casino property that sits within the portfolio of MGM Resorts International. The current CEO of the parent company is Jim Murren. He is a deflated Hillary Clinton supporter. Less than two months ago, with an announcement apparently fueled by the the post-Charlottesville racist hysteria, Murren sent a letter to his employees and announced a company donation-match program to funnel money to so-called "anti-hate" groups. By "anti-hate" groups, we of course mean Soros-backed groups, various terror-related groups, and miscellaneous non-profits.

As reported by Casino.org back on August 21, 2017 [linked here]: 

MGM Resorts CEO Jim Murren condemned “hate mongers and white supremacists” in a letter to his more than 77,000 worldwide employees last Friday, and encouraged them to donate to anti-hate groups by explaining contributions would be matched.

Murren finished his letter by telling his workers that if they donate to one of seven organizations MGM deemed to be working towards the anti-hate cause, the corporation would match it.

Those nonprofits include the Southern Poverty Law Center, National Association of the Advancement of Colored People, Anti-Defamation League, Human Rights Campaign, Council on American Islamic Relations, OCA National-Asian Pacific American Advocates, and League of United Latin American Citizens.

Controversial conservative radio host and blogger, Wayne Allyn Root, posted an article on August 29th to bring these facts to the public's attention regarding one of those seven groups, the Council on American Islamic Relations, better known as CAIR [linked here]:

No CEO has a right to involve his company in controversial politics, let alone the funding of extreme and radical organizations. But Jim Murren wins the award for "Reckless CEO of the Century." Murren has just put MGM in bed with an organization with ties to Islamic terrorism.

Murren announced in response to what he sees as the racism, bigotry, intolerance and violence seen at the Charlottesville disturbance, that MGM will donate company money (and match employee contributions) to a collection of extreme leftist civil rights, human rights, and Muslim advocacy groups. A strange and partisan decision to make with company funds and shareholder money. 

Instead Murren announced MGM company (and therefore) donations to extreme leftist groups, some backed by controversial radical Marxist George Soros. 

It gets much worse. Jim Murren is donating MGM shareholder money to CAIR. They were named by the Justice Dept. as “an unindicted co-conspirator to Muslim terrorism.” The FBI produced charts showing CAIR was created to support the Palestinian terrorist organization Hamas. 

Already we can see a picture emerging that places the dreadful Vegas Shooting incident within the context of what I have elsewhere described as "the summer of our discontent." Then along came the posted prediction of a well-planned "high incident project" to be unleashed upon a Las Vegas venue sometime on, or around, September 11, 2017.

Anonymous 4Chan User Predicts Vegas Shooting Event

Many thanks to Squawker.org [linked here] for remembering the anonymous post by a 4chan user back on September 11th. He warned residents of Las Vegas and Henderson to "stay inside tomorrow." He (or she) further went on to say:

"It's called the 'high incident project'. They want to make the American public think that places with extremely high security aren't' safe.... You will see laws proposed within the next few years to put up more metal detectors and other security devices.... I can’t guarantee anything will happen tomorrow but Las Vegas is on their minds." 

Squawker goes on to comment:

He states this “project” will be done with an endgame goal of passing new laws in Nevada regarding casino security. Making pricey new security screening machines mandatory for all guests. With even further more ambitious plans to follow suit in our schools and other public buildings if the public goes along with the casino machines easily enough. 

He also specifically names former head of the Department of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff and Casino owner and billionaire Sheldon Adelson as the two men set to profit most off the wave of new regulations set to spring up in response to the Vegas incident. It’s not all that unreasonable even to believe that Mr. Chertoff might seek to profit from a new security panic in the wake of Vegas. Given that the man has already been accused of abusing the public trust by raising security fears among average American’s in an attempt to sell his companies body scanners before, all the way back in 2010.

So it sounds like somebody in the Deep State is about to see a profit windfall. Well, never let a good (manufactured) crisis go to waste. Furthermore, in his own diabolical way, even George Soros warned what was coming.

George Soros Warned Against Conspiracy Theory

In a follow-up blog posted today, Squawker noted that George Soros was whining about anti-Soros hate and us tin-foil-hat nut jobs only one day before the Vegas incident. Squawker also noticed that the stock price for OSI Systems Inc. (whose ticker symbol is ironically coded as OSIS) is now at an all-time high for the year.

Squawker says [linked here]:

"Our mysterious [4chan] poster specifically mentioned two corporations set to make bank in the political aftermath of Vegas. First up is OSI Systems, Inc. A company who develops and markets security and inspection systems such as X-ray machines, metal detectors, and other expensive security related devices. As of this morning the company’s stock price is now at an all-time high for the year. Potentially even more interestingly, after a recent low on the day of the 4chan posting in question 9/11, the stock has been on a steady climb upwards ever since."

I am wont to repeat this phrase with reference to many of my blogs: Stand back and look at the forest rather than the trees. The information above about the MGM donations to terror organizations and the security system corporation who now stands to profit from the Vegas terror attack represent the "forest." Below, I will leave you with this morning's analysis by "V" of the specifics, the "trees," of the incident. The physical evidence from the scene would tend to support the idea that this act of terror in Las Vegas was executed by more than one person.

As always, level-headed critical thinker Lionel of Lionel Nation Youtube channel reminds us to accept nothing you hear from the sock-puppet MSM as gospel when examining this criminal act at the Mandalay Bay resort.

At the very least, questions need to be answered about the gunfire flashes seen emanating from the 4th floor as reported on the police scanner by an officer who, from his position, couldn't even see the 32nd floor. Consider this blog as "open" territory and feel free to post your comments and questions about this entire event down below. I don't need to tell you that the "situation is fluid" and there will be many theories and many questions over the days to come.

My contact information with link to my Karatbars portal are found at my billboard page of SlayTheBankster.com. Listen to my radio show, Bee In Eden, on Youtube via my show blog at SedonaDeb.wordpress.com.