#says he’s not a nazi and then posts shit like this

[soxiyy]

Everyone point and laugh

[quantumshade]

do you ever think about how there is an insane amount of antisemitism in doctor who but no one ever talks about it. do you ever think about how goyim on this website make a habit of sexualizing and fetishizing these insanely antisemitic scenes. because i do. i think about it a lot but i feel like i can't talk about it because it makes the gentiles uncomfortable lol

[br1ghtestlight]

watching these tv shows about serial killers has me thinking about how my younger brother was only like 10% bad choices away from being an Actual murderer. he's calmed down a lot now but even 5 years ago i wouldnt have put it past him to try and kill me or my sister, he used to try to stab us with a kitchen knife and we'd lock ourselves in the bathroom FJDMDMDKDSMJ

[roastedinmarch]

i keep thinking i’m done with kevin but i miss his videos sm. i can never go back to watching him, im so disappointed in his apology and i will never feel safe in his community again, but i love his content, i wish the whole thing just never happened.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

First I feel bad for using I in POV so much

Now I feel like I should have been using you more often.

[wifelinkmtg]

TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT

So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"

The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?

And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?

INTRODUCING: THE DITCH

There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.

And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?

So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.

Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?

There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.

Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.

There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.

Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.

And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.

There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...

SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]

We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?

Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)

In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.

So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.

Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:

Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?

Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?

SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU

There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.

The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.

There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.

A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.

Do you get it now?

ENDNOTES

It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.

I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.

I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.

[lenaellsi]

I'm wondering how much of the fandom reaction of "Aziraphale doesn't ACTUALLY want Crowley to be an angel, he just wants to keep him safe/happy!" is because we spent four years between seasons assuming that Aziraphale had already accepted that Heaven and Hell aren't all that different, and that demons and angels aren't inherently good or bad. And it's difficult to let go of that idea in the same way that it's difficult to let go of the idea that they talked their shit out That Night At Crowley's Flat and have been happy ever since. But to actually understand Aziraphale's choice without hiding it behind coffee or lies or secret plans or body swaps or magic tricks or purely romantic intentions, we have to to understand that Aziraphale is still working under an incorrect framework of the world as divided into Cosmic Good and Cosmic Evil.

Because the thing is. Aziraphale does not like that Crowley is a demon. He just doesn't. We can talk about his reasons, but I really don't think that it's a disputable fact at this point. Aziraphale CONSTANTLY talks down to Crowley about the differences between them, and disparages demons in general and Crowley in particular over and over again. I mean, he's obviously just spewing the party line at this point, but he even describes the ultimate triumph of Heaven over Hell as "rather lovely." To Crowley. Where does he think Crowley fits, in that scenario? Is he thinking about it? (He is, surely, given how distressed he is over the danger Crowley is in due to the Arrangement?)

Crowley, to be fair, often says similar things about himself, and hates when Aziraphale calls him things like 'nice.' But as I've mentioned in another post, I think 2.03 makes it all but canon that a lot of that is self-preservation. Hell can't know that he's running around saving children and rescuing people from suicide and poverty, or he'll get dragged down there for decades. Crowley doesn't really think of himself as evil--he's visibly upset during their argument when Aziraphale hits him with "you're the bad guys!" because he thinks Aziraphale knows him better than that.

But instead, Aziraphale makes knee-jerk assumptions about Crowley and his intentions over and over again, including that he's behind the Reign of Terror in Paris and, about two minutes before realizing he's in love with him, that he's working with Nazis. Crowley seems annoyed and hurt both times, and denies it. There's no demonic posturing from him then.

Which makes the Job ep really interesting, right? Because Crowley actively lies and says that he is doing the properly demonic thing, but Aziraphale doesn't buy it. And why doesn't he buy it?

"I know the angel you were."

To Aziraphale, Crowley's kindness stems from the traces of that angel he knew. He thinks Crowley does good in spite of his nature, and not because of who he is as a person, life experiences as a demon very much included. This is because to Aziraphale, Heaven is Good, and all goodness must stem from it.

I've seen people get accused, when making this point, of attacking Aziraphale, or saying that he doesn't love Crowley, which is a ridiculous takeaway from S2. I've never seen a person more obviously in love, or a person more obviously trying to do good in the world. But so much of Aziraphale is tied up in his ability to believe multiple contradictory things at once. (See: the 80 years between "maybe there is something to be said for shades of gray" and "Heaven is the side of truth, of light, of good.") That doesn't make him stupid or ill-intentioned (in fact, he wouldn't need to do the kind of mental gymnastics we see from him if he wasn't clever enough to see through at least some of the bullshit) but it does mean that he's fully capable of loving Crowley while at the same time believing that demons are 'the bad guys.' Solution? Make Crowley an angel. Fix him, fix the bad apples in Heaven, be happy together, eliminate human suffering. Vavoom. Sorted.

Idk man. I'm constantly seeing takes that just...completely discount that Aziraphale really, genuinely, has misunderstood Crowley and the way the world works in his choice to return to Heaven. We can't blame it all on miscommunication. The most honest conversation in the world wouldn't fix this. Aziraphale has to go up there, without Crowley, and learn for the last time that Heaven is not Good, and will never be Good, because there is no Good. Good doesn't come from Heaven, or God, or even Crowley (and I see y'all, putting Crowley on a pedestal, saying Aziraphale wants to remake Heaven in his image--stop it.) Good comes from making the choice, in a very complicated world, to help as best you can, and it comes from love. And that's what Aziraphale will learn in season 3.

[stillunusual]

The word "Nazi" has a specific meaning to normal people, but to vatniks and tankies it has five basic meanings…. "anybody I don't like" "anybody who disagrees with me" "anybody who's a citizen of a country that Russia wants to invade" "anybody who opposed or simply didn't want to live in one of the tyrannical regimes I simp for" "anybody who was oppressed or killed by one of my favourite mass murderers" EDITED TO ADD: a tankie clown reblogged this post and made some typically asinine comments, so I thought I'd elaborate a little bit…. Tankie clown: @well1x is either referring to the fact that a lot of the "deaths under communism" listed in "the black book of communism" (which gives us the 10 million number or whatever) are quite literally Nazis in WWII, or they're referring to the fact that the only people who have been made to deliberately suffer under communism have been literal Nazis and fascists (generally speaking)

Joining the tankie cult requires you to live in a delusional clown world and believe in a shit ton of made up (and often contradictory) nonsense that requires a considerable repertoire of mental gymnastics (and lies) to maintain….

@well1x is literally trying to claim that all victims of communism are "nazis and facists" (sic), which - back in the real world - is a very obvious lie. It's also a blatant example of victim blaming. For example, most of the millions of men, women and children who were robbed, raped, imprisoned, sent to the gulags, tortured, starved to death, executed or ethnically cleansed by Stalin's henchmen were not Nazis or fascists, and many were innocent of any crime. The vast majority of the population in Stalin's Soviet Union also had to put up with crippling poverty and backwardness, the brutal suppression of their religious and community life and the total lack of freedom.

Based on his comment, I doubt if the tankie clown has ever read "the black book of communism" and I'm also not sure why he mentions this book in particular, when there are thousands of others that thoroughly document the numerous crimes of the regimes tankies insist on being the useful idiots for, and I think it's safe to assume that he hasn't read any of those books either (in fact, I doubt if he's ever read any book whatsoever)…. Tankie clown: Karina then shows an image of (presumably) some kids in the Ukraine famine. This is completely unrelated though because this famine was not manufactured by the USSR as say the Irish famine was by the English. Can't really attribute natural disaster to "muh communism"

Again - a typical genocide-denying tankie lie.

Tankies generally start by saying that the holodomor was Nazi propaganda, and when you debunk that they claim it was just a natural disaster, and when that doesn't work they make up some bullshit about how millions of farmers who barely had enough to live on were wealthy kulaks who burned crops and slaughtered cattle (and therefore deserved to die). And when you point out that the red army actually broke into their homes and confiscated all their grain, every cow or chicken or any other food they had, and that the Soviet authorities blacklisted villages, sometimes purely for containing relatives of Ukrainian independence fighters, and prevented the villagers from leaving, shot them for even collecting ears of grain from the fields, and watched them starve to death - tankies will just deny it, or laugh, or pretend that millions of holodomor victims were all rich landlords (and therefore deserved to die) etc etc….

I've also never seen English people pretending that the Irish famine never happened, or claiming that the victims deserved it, or that it was a good thing, or that Britain should re-conquer Ireland. On the other hand, it's difficult not to notice Stalin's smooth-brained groupies swarming all over social media every day denying or justifying the holodomor and other crimes of Russia and the USSR, and hoping that Russia not only re-conquers Ukraine but also Finland, the Baltics, Poland and other countries it has invaded and occupied in the past.

There's no point trying to reason with tankies using facts, logic or common sense - and appealing to their sense of decency while they're simping for their favourite mass murderers is a complete waste of time. Tankie clown: Karina then says @well1x is defending imperialism(???), defending ethnic cleansing (which …what??), dreaming about labour camps and mass shootings (for Nazis yes plz), and does not do any praxis (based on?).

Yep - most tankie clowns claim to be communists while simultaneously embracing Russian fascism, supporting the imperialism of Russia’s mega-rich ruling class, mindlessly repeating the Kremlin's propaganda and cheerleading their war crimes. These morons seem to have no idea that the Russian Federation is an empire made up of many conquered states that Russia invaded, occupied and colonised in the 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th centuries, or that Russia's war against Ukraine is a brutal attempt to reassert control over one of its former colonies. Russia's history of imperialism is at least as bad as that of any western country - and they're still doing it in the 21st century.

And I have seen countless examples of tankies speaking openly of wanting to mass murder their ideological enemies (or people they don't like) - because they also delude themselves into believing that if their revolutionary dreams ever came true, they'd be the ones doing the arresting and killing, despite the fact that in a real revolution they'd be about as much use as a fart in a spacesuit. They also have no idea how their small dick energy is somehow going to bring capitalism to its knees, which they'd inevitably end up crying about if it ever actually happened in reality.

Most of them are complete losers who spend the majority of their time sitting in their bedrooms huffing their own farts while reading tankie fan fiction online. Tankie clowns also claim to be against western imperialism and capitalism, despite living comfortable lives in western capitalist countries and owing everything they have to capitalism, including the freedom to use their capitalist smartphones or laptops to post anti-capitalist tantrums on social media platforms owned by western capitalists (thus helping these western capitalists to maximise their profits).

This is generally the sum total of a typical tankie's - ahem - "revolutionary" activity.

The vast majority of tankie clowns wouldn't dream of ever giving up the comforts of capitalism to move to one of the authoritarian shitholes they stupidly simp for, because then they might not be able to play their favourite capitalist video games anymore….

It's also a fact that Russia and the USSR have ethnically cleansed millions of people. Tankie clown: OP takes this insane train all the way to the station, and says @well1x is talking about anyone they don't like which… no. They're talking about the traditional Nazis.

No - they're falsely claiming that all victims of communism are Nazis and fascists. Learn to read…. Tankie clown: But also let's break this down. Who does OP think is being called a Nazi? "anyone I don't like" I mean I don't like Nazis, but I don't think everyone I don't like is one lmao. Funny tho, dude throws around the word tankie until it has no meaning.

In my experience, if you disagree with tankies about anything, they will pretty soon call you a fascist or a Nazi. It's they who throw around words like "fascist" and "Nazi" until they have no meaning (and most of them hilariously claim to be opposed to fascism while simultaneously supporting it - if it happens to be Russian). Tankie clown: - "anyone who disagrees with me" if you disagree that all human beings deserve to live a dignified life regardless of race/sex/gender identity/sexual orientation/age/disability/whatever then yeah you probably are a Nazi

Straw man. See above….

It's also amusing to observe the doublethink of somebody who apparently believes that "all human beings deserve to live a dignified life" while simultaneously thinking that when his favourite mass murderers oppressed and/or killed huge numbers of people it was perfectly OK…. Tankie clown: - "anyone who's a citizen of a country that Russia wants to invade" why the fuck are we talking about Russia? Believe it or not OP, USSR does not stand for "United Soviet States of Russia" lmaoooo

We're talking about Russia because most tankie clowns support Russian imperialism and mindlessly parrot the Kremlin's propaganda about how Russia's latest invasion of Ukraine is some sort of special de-nazification operation (see above). Tankies are generally so ignorant, gullible and stupid that they will literally believe anything the Kremlin tells them…. Tankie clown: - "anyone opposed or simply didn't want to live in one of the tyrannical regimes I simp for" tyrannical regimes lmao. These were only "tyrannical regimes" for people who actually were in fact Nazis.

Again - this is the kind of reality-denying nonsense I'd expect to hear from a tankie clown. One thing that really appalls people in the central and eastern European countries that experienced the reality of being occupied by the USSR and/or Russia, is the staggering ignorance and stupidity of western useful idiots who have no idea what it was actually like, and are not only dumb enough to join the tankie cult, but insist on westsplaining to the victims and their descendants about how the horrors they and their families suffered (usually for doing literally nothing) either didn't happen ("cuz the CIA made it all up") or claiming that they somehow deserved it ("cuz they were all Nazis/fascists/kulaks/slave owners").

Back in the real world, these were tyrannical regimes for tens of millions of ordinary people who had done nothing to deserve being subjected to tyranny…. Tankie clown: - "anyone who was oppressed or killed by one of my favourite mass murderers" yeah basically that's what I've been saying.

Thanks for proving my point….

And please note that smoking weed on your mum's sofa isn't actually going to bring the world revolution closer.

That was just a joke…. 🤣😂

[eyecantread]

In case James Somerton tries to release a second manipulative apology video, here's some stuff I haven't seen shared on Tumblr. In the initial wake of HBomberguy's video release on December 3, Somerton made the following post to Patreon that was quickly deleted:

Here he dismisses Plagiarism and You(tube) as "not bringing up anything new since the last time he was accused of plagiarism" and tries to pull the same victim card as before when he complained that a "big creator was unfairly targeting him." This is a rehash of previous controversies and criticisms he's received such as when he went after Nebula for "not wanting to platform him because he's queer (lol wut)" in 2022 and lashing out at Dan Olson on Twitter when Dan called him out for the Patreon shit in April 2023 (James begged his viewers to support him on Patreon because he claimed to be in dire financial straights and then bought a $5k+ camera). The man is very versed in DARVO.

The Ace Couple, a pair of Asexual podcasters (who you should totally listen to btw) detailed the Nebula debacle in a recent episode, as well as their own interaction with Somerton as financial backers of his film project who disagreed with the content of one of his videos. The issue? Aside from the shenanigans with Telos, the Indiegogo film studio the Ace Couple backed, Somerton had said in a video that asexual people don't get sent to conversion therapy, which is categorically not true. Naturally, he resorted to his tried and true tactic of accusing the Ace Couple of attacking him.

He then released a second statement later in the evening of the release of Hbomberguy's video:

All of this on top of him subtly throwing his cowriter under the bus for it in his apology video! Statements like, "I'm not trying to throw Nick under the bus" don't work when you also say things like, "things that weren't true I didn't write or believe made it into the videos!" What other conclusion are viewers supposed to make about shit like 'American soldiers lusting after Nazi bodies' and the snarking misogyny that can't be traced back to a source other than Nick wrote it? Somerton is using Nick as a fall guy and trying to gaslight everyone into thinking he's not and it's transparent and pathetic.

The man absolutely does not deserve another chance and any claims he makes that he is seeking money to reimburse the queer creators he erased by plagiarizing their work should not be trusted. The guy has zero credibility, don't give him the benefit of the doubt.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Those Who Can || integrated Female Air Force series

Introductory part 1: Flintenweiber, or “Rifle Broads”.

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlistment and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Authors Note: this is an Au, obviously, and I intend for the de-segregation in the force to not be entirely full, in fact in some ways they would mirror that of the Tuskegee Red Tails where they were held back from many opportunities and placed at a disadvantage, to say the least. However, as this is primarily a POW fic that aspect only effects their reception into the Stalag and the timeline of their crashes.

Inspo: thanks to all of y’all who contributed with suggestions and advice on this fic. I want to say that I based a great deal of the brutal treatment and indignity heaped on these fictional OC’s on the true and horrific treatment of the Soviet Female Soldiers taken as POWs. Taking into consideration that American ties would give these OC’s some leverage, I have moderated these horrors if anything, however as I intend for these girls to be some of the first of their kind, they in many ways endure the brunt of the cruel initiation. If you’ve got any questions or suggestions about this, have at the inbox.

Warnings: 18+ for disturbing content. War, brutality, cruelty, and references to sexual violence. Specifics: a woman’s head is forcefully shaved, a woman is kicked to death, a dog turned loose, concentration camps, brief infighting between Soviet’s and Americans, past tense illusions to rape which are underplayed and may be consequently more disturbing to some. Quite angsty ok?? It’s women at war. Rampant misogyny by Nazis.

Familiar faces: Gale Cleven, Benny Demarco, John Brady, “Hambone” Hamilton

Original Characters: Lt. Maureen Kendeigh (bombardier), Lt. Colonel Ida Brady, Lt. Tallulah Smith 

If Maureen Kendeigh heard the word “degenerate” used one more time in regards to her profession, her sacrifice and skill, -she just might do something regrettable.

By this point she was ready to get off this cattle car and go back to talk with Interrogator Glasses about stupid and unnerving shit like why the clock in the mess hall at Thorpe Abbots had a broken arm. Her distressed inner monologue of “how did he know that??” at the time was preferred to this newest method of demoralization: death by aspersion and suspense.

It was nice to be back with the girls, ones she knew and ones from other squadrons. But that held a misfortune too, the fact that it was just the girls, still not a single male crew member in sight. Apparently the Gestapo and the Luftwaffe were having a spat over who got to keep them, these Flintenweiber: “Rifle Broads”.

In the meantime Maureen and her fellows got punted back and forth between the two institutions like unwanted stepchildren. First the horrible isolation but humane treatment of the Air Force interrogation cells. Then back to the prison where all bets were off and the hope of safety came from a herd-like defense of each other against the ever more erratic guards. In these holdings, if one of their members hadn’t been executed by a pistol to the temple by end of day, it was considered a successful defense by the whole. All other atrocity, indignity and assault were unbearable’s that required bearing for the time being until the Luftwaffe took them back.

And then handed them back over.

And on and on it went.

It was effective, Maureen gave them that, after each hosting by the Gestapo, the girls were softer, tenderized and more susceptible to any deal that might procure them a shred of honor and safety. Only Ida Brady, the most senior amongst them at the incomprehensible rank of Lt. Colonel, had held ranks together, spine of steel and bearing more terrifying than most men’s, she’d fought for every grueling respect of rank they had been afforded. Even if it landed them in harsher conditions, worse interrogations -anything to ensure that what happened to her girls were considered as war crimes against lawful combatants when the time came for justice.

But they’d been collecting the downed girls and holding them apart like prized anomalies while conflicting orders came in from Berlin, and while the Red Cross fussed regarding combatant status. Now they had a tidy number collected, well over fifty by the time Maureen saw Ida Brady pushed into the cell, having been downed with a significant portion of them after Munich.

But now they hadn’t seen Brady in over a day. Not since they’d been loaded on this rail car headed to god knows where by soldiers with the dreaded lightning bolts on their collars.

The SS.

With Brady missing, Maureen supposed that made her and Lieutenant Smith a leader of sorts. Most of her “leading” currently took the form of not responding to a single vile threat or taunt by the guards mingling amongst them in the ever rocking car. Ida would be proud of her emotionless detachment at one guard’s suggestion to let the dog loose and see who it chose to maul.

Lieutenant Smith -tender hearted Tallulah with the bronzed skin and knack with animals that rivaled Snow White’s- had made the cryptic observation in Maureen’s ear that she’d never known a dog could be trained away from the throat to go for the breasts instead.

As of last Sunday they now knew, and none of them were likely to forget.

“I’ll be faster next time,” Smith had mumbled in a simmering rage, “I’ll be faster. I’ll have my fist down that cur’s throat before they finish slipping the leash.”

It was a nice sentiment, would’ve been made more so if Maureen wasn’t so sure it would land dear Smith with a bullet in her head. Would be made more so if Sergeant Forsyth had lived from her injuries long enough to benefit from it. Lots of things would be made nicer by heavier coats and the presence of drinking water.

One of the new ones, a terrified little replacement who wore her ordeal on her face, made the rookie mistake of asking for a drink. She’d been given the predictable initiation of being pissed on by a guard in answer and now she bore her thirst as doggedly as the veterans.

When the train cars rolled to a halt, and the great door was hauled back, sprawling out before them appeared the most idyllic scenery one could ever hope for. A crystalline blue lake, dotted on its border with charming structures adorned with red tile roofs, a quaint church of the same, lush fields and sparkling water and deep forest for miles. Maureen did not think they would haul them so near a town only to execute them. But then what did she know?

Nothing, not even where she was.

When they had lined the girls up, some in worse shape than others and a motley collective group from various military branches, they hauled off Ida Brady to the head of the pack, her bruised face considerably more busted than when she’d been loaded on. Maureen could see her craning her neck as she was drug past, counting down her flyer girls, looking for any missing from the trip.

They were marched, four abreast and with guns at their backs, down a wide and well traversed road into town, past cottages on its outskirts with little garden plots and clothes blowing on the line. Maureen was reminded of the idyllic countryside she had landed in with her chute before being seized and hauled off. There were women and children in row boats on the lake and the path they took through the woods was more peaceful than ominous. A traitorous sort of hope began to bloom in Maureen’s heart.

That was dashed when the tree line broke and out before them stretched what seemed to be miles of wire. And beside it a sign, welcoming them to Ravensbrück -a concentration camp. A camp for civilians, a camp to never return from.

Their new guards were ready for them, smiles on their faces and whips in their hands. Among them were a few remarkable for their sex, they were women too -if women who enjoyed such craft could still be called that. And for all the horror inflicted on them by their male captors so far, there seemed to be a general presentment amongst the arriving girls that the finer arts of terror had not yet been endured.

Standing for hours in the infamous square inside the compound, roll call and registration took on a form of torture yet unheard of. Round and round it went, repetitions of ranks and serials over and over and each time they were met with two alternatives. Renounce the ranks and be admitted as civilians with no further targeted harassment. Or-

“If you insist on being special, we will be forced to make you special.” as one officer put it to Brady’s stone cold face. “Ask your Soviet compatriots, the ones who wanted to be special like you. They claimed to be officers too, and now they service officers in Buchenwald. They have not left their beds in months. Special, no?”

“I’m not ‘claiming’ a goddamn thing.” Brady would go round and round with them in turn and up and down the line was the echo of ranks and serials.

Nothing but ranks and serials.

The minute they dropped one or the other, they’d be freed from this standing purgatory, and they’d be as good as dead. They might wish it were so anyway, if the threat was carried out but they’d suffer as officers, with honor. Whatever that meant this far from home and any appreciation of it. A fresh batch of guards relieved the first and the banter continued, even through roll call of the general camp where a mass of the most miserable specters of female kind poured out of the huts and were made to await the call of their one single number.

A serial for a serial. Maureen would keep hers. By dawn she had kept it, as had all but one of her group, a navy nurse with a broken leg who’d succumbed to the allure of a chair.

Civilian status for a seat.

Maureen thought a drop of water might be her own undoing were it offered, but one look at Smith's cracked yet unmoving lips cemented her in her own determination. As did Ida Brady’s talk, straight back in front of her, trousers bloodied on the inseam but not a cringe to be discerned in her stance.

By morning roll call for the entire camp, their guards were tiring of them, or else thought a new method of persuasion more likely to bring success. Off they were marched to their new billet to “meet their Allies” and what Smith wouldn’t give to have her brass knuckles back when met with a hut full of Soviet soldiers. Females, if females could have shoulders like that. They were impressive women with murder on their faces at the intrusion of a new gang of American blowhards.

“Did you give up already?” The one with the most English taunted and for the first time since capture, Maureen saw Ida Brady’s spine bow backwards just a fraction -a pacifying gesture in the face of the Russian’s nose to nose staredown.

“Hey, we’re not here to make trouble.” she insisted, cool and stern. “Did you?”

“We’d rather die.”

Brady gave a sharp nod, “Then we’re Allies in that, too.”

“Your precious Red Cross won’t come for you here.” That likely verdict seemed to bring the woman satisfaction, and Maureen wondered how many months, weeks, hours of this grueling place it would take before she too took savage satisfaction in another’s misfortune. How long before all better impulse to be glad for others was stamped out and all that was left was crowing self preservation. “You are not the firsts. There were others, Americans, like you, they are now wearing the ink of field whores- or they are dead.”

“One might assume the same of your predecessors.” Brady pointed out mildy, and both groups shifted behind their leaders, ready and tense.

“Anyone who accepts-“ the Russian warned, “-we kill.”

With that incentive clear, a tentative peace was made, which included a few trying to fraternize, converse and share news. There was little that aligned to create any cohesive figure, despite their shared experiences and sufferings.

When night fell they were hauled out for roll call amongst the masses, and together after hours of waiting to be called upon, they answered with their ranks and serials, each in their own language. The Russian who had confronted Brady was beaten so badly she did not rise again after it. The guard left her lying there and asked Brady herself what her occupation was.

“Lt. Colonel in the United States Air Force.”

The unfortunate rookie who had so ill advisedly asked for water on the train stood beside Brady; and got a bullet to the head for her superior’s answer. What Colonel Brady thought of her judgment being given to another did not show, her face white and her lips sealed, only the speckle of blood on her profile stood in stark relief in the early morning.

“Kneel.” a very shiny Luger barrel was pressed, still smoking to Brady’s temple.

She did so, braced for the inevitable execution. A soldier's death, it’s what they’d signed up for. The Kommandant waved over one of the female guards and spoke to her in German. She took off at a run to one of the buildings with a bright smile, and Ida Brady stayed kneeling, the splattered brains of the unfortunate dripping out of her hair and into the leather of her jacket, a mockery of her own upcoming fate.

The female guard returned with scissors. “Your poor hair, so pretty. Now it is ruined.” the Kommandant bemoaned, gloved fingers sliding though Brady’s wet tresses, “See what happens to beauty when you pervert the order of things? Now it must be sacrificed. Perhaps then you will see how ugly you are become.”

Maureen felt Smith’s restraining arm before she had even registered her impulse to charge forward, caught about the middle she strained against her friend's surprising strength and in the end was forced thusly to keep ranks and watch with the rest as the Nazis fucks scalped the Colonel of her femininity with a pair of sheep shears.

Dribbling blood down her face and shaking with rage, Ida was in better shape than her Russian counterpart. When her ordeal was over, she rose again, even if she swayed dangerously upon doing so.

And when asked, she had her serial at the ready.

Crowded back into the hut, Maureen and Smith watched the Russians hopelessly fuss over their insensible leader, knowing all too well how likely it might be that they could be found doing the same tomorrow, in a week’s time, who knew. For now, Brady sank down against the wall with the rest of them, the scowl of her formidable brows deflecting any potential commiserations for her battery.

When the navy nurse was pushed into their hut next evening, a dead silence greeted her. One of the Soviets, a sniper by her markings, came up to her and unceremoniously tore open her shirt. If the girls had doubted the Russian’s warning about “wearing the ink of field whores” upon their skin as mere hyperbole, such speculation was removed. It was a dreadful tattoo, large and damning as was the reaction it elicited amongst the servicewomen.

By the end of the night there were two dead bodies on the hut floor. And it didn’t seem to matter who had killed which. One had died for honor, the other for giving it up. And in the end? Where was this ephemeral honor? Ida Brady could only find it in the tense faces of her girls, lining the room from their places along the wall, waiting for another roll call or worse.

But in war, as in peace, sometimes the dead sent favors and in this instance it came to them with screams of:“Amerikaner Soldat!” in the middle of the night. They were marched out to the square and stood to attention once more in the sweep of the spotlight, all the while were shouts of “Amerikaner Soldat!”

All they knew was the bitter waiting in the gray dawn chill and the choking anticipation of some sick, final joke, or some methodical mass execution. Maureen wished she could knock her shoulder into Ida’s one last time and tell her she’d been a rock -she was a rock- but Brady stood there in front alone, as was her privilege and her curse. Talullah Smith would not meet Maureen’s side eyed glance for a farewell. Maureen wished she had less of a roar inside her, wished she could step off calmly into whatever was on the other side but the idea was repulsive, even after all she’d endured, and she looked about in vain for some semblance of the same revolt on her fellow’s faces.

What came instead was the dreaded whistles and the order to march. They were marched right out of the gates and down the idyllic lane they’d been marched up days ago, back through town to the railway station. There the soldiers herded them back up into a cattle car that smelled more of death than livestock, and then the train pulled away, hurtling south -perhaps the only one to do so with living cargo.

There were no guards inside the car, only the cramped space to keep them docile and the lack of promise that the great door would ever grind open again.

“The hell do you think happened?” Maureen hissed to Ida, finding her superior propped up in the corner in a suspiciously casual pose that she suspected hid a limp and unfathomable fatigue.

“Haven’t got a clue, Kendeigh.”

“Maybe someone got word out.” Maureen suggested, thinking of their predecessors, thinking of the useful dead.

“Or we’re headed to a nice rural dumping ground.” was all Ida would speculate. “Or brothels.” she added after a long minute.

Maureen chewed her cheek and kept peering out the slats at the beautiful countryside flashing past. “Well, at least they’ve ensured you’ll be least wanted of the bunch at such an establishment.” she joked and watched with the careful precision of a trained bombardier as her mean joke landed and Ida Brady’s legendary eyebrow ticked up in something that might have been amused disbelief, had she any energy left for such a display.

“Pistol whipped in the mouth and still no respect for rank, Kendeigh.” Brady observed and it was so like her brother John’s flat lined humor that Mauren’s heart throbbed with something alarmingly akin to sentimentally. For John Brady -and all the other lucky souls still at Thorpe Abbots, God willing. “I’m not laying on any damn beds for them.” Brady suddenly broke the silence again in a low voice, one Maureen knew was meant between officers only.

She pitched her head closer in agreement. “Me either.”

“I don’t care if they shoot me first,” Ida went on, as if reciting it to herself, “-and I don’t care if they shoot all of you first. I’m not going to.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” Maureen agreed again, vacillating briefly in her intent before proceeding to say, “That Sergeant -she wasn’t your fault. The nurse either.”

“I know that Lieutenant.”

“I know you know,” Maureen muttured, “but some stuff bears repeating. Places like these, we’re liable to lose our bearings without a little repetition.”

“Mm.”

Maureen shuffled beside her and wracked her brain for pleasant conversation, something besides the Soviet girls they’d abandoned and the skeletons they’d seen at Ravensbrück. “Ya know,” she remarked tiredly, “if someone in here’s hydrated enough to pee, I might be ready to drink it.”

Brady slowly turned from her view out the slats to give Maureen a blank faced stare. “Should I make an announcement or are you hoping to keep that between us?”

“Oh hell, Colonel,” Maureen grinned, mischief bubbling to the surface at the first chance, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you, liable to get stds from this lot.”

“Kendeigh.” Ida hissed warningly but there was that disbelieving wobble to her stern mouth, “That’s not funny -not with where we’ve come from.”

“It kinda is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is- a little. Admit it, a little.”

“It’s not.” And still her cheeks were pink with suppressed amusement, just like John’s got when Maureen pressed him on a dig about basic training.

“You sure you’re ok?” she ventured again, eyeing Brady’s extensive injuries visible above her clothes.

“Yeah?” Ida looked nonplussed, “I mean -what’re you ranking as ok, these days, Lt. Kendeigh?

“It’s just,” Maureen bit her own busted tongue briefly as a spur to get it out,

“-you’re bleeding a lot, Ida. Couldn’t help but notice.”

Ida Brady didn’t even glance down at her trousers or make a motion to feel her lacerated scalp, instead she answered in the same, almost bored way she always did, “Yeah, Candy, it’s called being a good Catholic.”

Maureen blinked. “Oh. Oh Shit.”

“You know, maybe some of you girls had the right of it,” Ida actually winced before staring back out the slats, “go off and do it ahead, in peacetime. But here I am, twenty eight and as sacrosanct as the Virgin Mary, dropping into occupied territory. What could go wrong!” To her credit, her snort was wonderfully genuine.

Maureen kept after her, “You signed up to fight, to get fought against. We all did -never this.”

“Mm, well, couldn’t choose a better gang to get put down with.” Brady smiled, begrudgingly raising an imaginary glass of her own to Maureen’s already raised one.

“To bitches who bite back.” Maureen toasted.

“To bitches who bite back.”

——————————————————-

Two cases of MIA troubled John Brady the most: Egan, who he had seen jump first after their dispute, and Maureen Kendeigh who he had learned from Blakely had jumped over Bremman. That’s two flyers who should’ve been here by now, before him even, in the case of Kendeigh, and yet they weren’t.

He went round and round the argument with Cleven and Crank and Hambone, all three downed from separate missions yet here together - proving his point. Cleven held staunchly to the belief they were being kept segregated, as befitted their ranks and sex. They could be one sector apart and not hear of them. It was the only hopeful response, it was a leader’s response. There had been women downed before Kendeigh, not many but a few of the escort fighters, and none of them had showed either. Brady wasn’t sure that was a good sign at all.

“So where’s Egan then?” he’d always hit back with, “They mistake his shoulders’ for a dame’s?”

“I dunno John.” Cleven would reply with that newly blank gaze of his somehow enhanced by the twin cuts on his cheeks.

Demarco took Brady aside when he arrived to tell him that whatever had happened to Cleven in interrogation wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t ethical. Those cheek scars weren’t both due to flack. Like a dog with a bone, Brady took this already suspected information about his stoic superior and ran with it, pointing out hotly to an uninterested Demarco, “if it’s happened to Cleven, what about them?”

“What can we do about it?” Was Cleven’s demand that always wrapped up the little circular arguments as they sat huddled in their hut. “Red Cross knows they’re not here, no colored flyers either. They know where they are. What can we do besides ask after them?”

He was right, there wasn’t anything, but still, like a presentiment hung over him, Brady found himself leaning on the wire each time a new batch was marched in, counting heads and scanning faces.

“Ida hasn’t even been shot down, John.” Crank kindly reminded again and again.

“As of two weeks ago.” John snapped.

As of two weeks, and then as of three, and then it became four and -where the hell was Kendeigh? Gale had stopped arguing when the subject came up, apparent but impotent fury slowly racking his wiry frame, face gone wane already above his grimey fleece collar. Winter wasn’t even here and they were fading.

And then it happened, what John had been waiting by the fence for, and boy was there a crush at the wire to see them marched in when they came up the muddy enclosure through the gates.

“The fuck are they bringing the women here for?”

“They don’t belong in here, bastards!”

“Ar’those Brady’s Banshees?”

“They’re not gonna hold ‘em here are they?”

Like he’d been reanimated by the presence of a cause, Major Cleven cut his way through the rabble to the front, addressing the German officer escorting them.

“Hey, hey you can’t bring them in here. They’re women, they belong in their own section.”

“If they are women,” the Commandant pointed out, not unkindly, “then perhaps your country should have recognized that before enlisting them? They belong here.”

Cleven shook his head, vehement in his conventions and rules, “It’s not right, you know it’s not.”

“Then tell your Lt. Colonel to stop fighting for combatant status.” he jerked his chin towards Ida Brady and Gale’s eyes widened at her injuries and tufted hair, “The SS had them tucked away at our most prestigious female camp. But they would not accept. They want to be men.”

“Combatants!” Gale argued the point Ida had been making since her feet touched occupied soul.

John Brady yanked his arm, whispering urgently in his ear, “She’s makin’ sign to me, torture, she says. Don’t fight it, Buck.”

Cleven searched the battered faces, some he knew like Ida, T.Smith and Maureen, and some from other squadrons, -ones who must’ve been damned unlucky to get captured considering their safer postings.

“If it can happen to you it c-“ John Brady was a bit of a pain in the ass, Cleven had found, but he had never found him to be wrong.

“Roger, loud and clear, captain.” Cleven warned him his point was made with a bite in his own tone.

“Have we come to an understanding?” The Commandant, amused by the fluster his female charges had caused, it was ample proof that women could never be fully integrated, not even by a society so pervertedly equal as the American’s. “Ja? Sehr gut. It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway, was it?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writer’s life blood, let me hear your thoughts and screams, they mean so much to me.

We have so many prompts already thrown around for this AU, I can’t wait to explore them, and I welcome any more if you have them.

Taglist (if you’d like to be added please drop a note below):

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[bijoumikhawal]

I mentioned this in the tags of a post the other day, but since NK is high profile and getting a lot of videos shared, and I saw someone today decry a short speech one of their rabbis gave as "extremist", I guess I'll make a post too

Neturei Karta is a Litvish Ultra-Orthodox/Haredi antizionist group. In my experience, they are the most high profile antizionist group that ties that stance to their religious practice within Judaism, but they are not the only group (the Satmar are also generally antizionist, and they're a larger group, but they don't like NK).

As I mentioned yesterday, there was an incident with Iran- one of two, actually, but this one gets brought up more- where NK sent speakers to a conference specifically for the purposes of defending the existence of the Holocaust, as several Holocaust deniers were in attendance. The speaker specifically chosen had his grandparents die in the Holocaust. However, he also was blunt in stating his opinion that Zionists used the Holocaust to oppress others, Zionists had been collaborators and thwarted efforts to save Jewish lives. This prompted the Chief Ashkenazi Rabbi to call for their excommunication, essentially, and for the Satmar and broader Haredi movement to tell people to stay away from them. These remarks are complicated; many incidents one could classify as collaboration were Zionists trying to move Jews out of Europe, to save lives. However, when the speaker said the third statement, I'm fairly certain he was genuinely expressing his own intergenerational trauma. Early Zionists did indeed, have a fair amount of animosity towards Orthodox Jews. At one point Theodore Herzl (a founder of the modern Zionist movement) did express the opinion that Jews should convert en masse to Christianity, and the feeling was that the Orthodox who refused should be left to their fate. This accusation is a response to a very real tension among Jews that existed at the time. And the collaborationism was not always about saving lives; the Lehi gang, which committed the Deir Yassin massacre, sought out an alliance with the Nazis on several occasions, and expressed a desire for a totalitarian nationalist state.

Another incident was one where NK met with heads of state in early 2006, particularly Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, after criticizing other Jews for referring to remarks he made as antisemitic, and did an interview with Iranian press where they stated the Holocaust was used as a political tool by Zionists, that Zionism is "not Jewish, but political", and that not all Jews are Zionists. They also clearly stated that when they say they are not Zionists, they do not mean withdrawal to 67 borders, but a full dissolution of state, where Jews still can live with Palestinians. Later on in 2006, Ahmadinejad made comments about the reality of the Holocaust that prompted Haroun Yashayaei, one of the most prominent members of the Iranian Jewish community, to publicly speak put against him (and no, he didn't get arrested over that. He actually is also a movie producer and got an award in 2008).

It should be noted that in West Asia and North Africa, Iran is one of only a few countries that still has a significant Jewish population. The others are Turkey (14,500), Azerbaijan (7,200), Morocco (2,100), and Tunisia (1,000). For those unaware, this is significant because during the 1920s and 30s, many colonial governments stripped WANA Jews of citizenship, and in the 40s-60s, many post colonial WANA countries forcibly expelled local Jews. As a result, the centuries long presence of Jews in countries such as Egypt or Syria is down a hundred or fewer individuals in many cases. Ideologically, I do not support Iran's government because it's a theocratic state that treats Kurds like shit, but all of NK's interactions with Iran must be contextualized in light of this. This is not me using WANA Jews as a rhetorical device either: my paternal country, Egypt, which I wish I could so much as visit, is such a country. The 2016 Iranian census puts the country's Jewish population at 9,826. That's a number that I would weep to see reported in Egypt, and the second highest of any West Asia or North African country.

Personally while I hold no serious ideological disagreement with NK over antizionism, I do not wholly support them for other reasons (gender/sexuality politics reasons primarily). I bring up these incidents with Iran because in the past I've seen people claim they are Holocaust deniers, or that they think Jewish people brought the Holocaust on themselves. I have never seen a NK member say ANYTHING of that sort, and the idea that Jews bring antisemitism in any form on themselves is in fact an actual belief Herzl held. The closest I've heard is when NK distributed leaflets after a Chabad was attacked in Mumbai where they criticized Chabad for being in bed with Zionists. I'll be linking some articles in the replies of this post about this, including the text of the actual speech given at the Tehran conference so it can be read in full.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt VII good omens S1E3 but i'm in a fever-induced haze and i watched it four days ago

Hello maggots it turns out I may have a viral fever... or perchance I'm just going viral in the GO fandom and Crowley being so hot has given me a fever (this is what I learned from years of studying thermodynamics). BAHAHAHAHAHAH anyway this is a LOOOONG post.

EDIT: There are time inconsistencies, as some of you informed me. Paint before wall slam etc. But this show does not follow linear time, just like me. Time is cosmic Play-Doh, and @neil-gaiman, Einstein and I are toddlers playing with it all bendy-bendy. We may have eaten some. I blame Neil. So I will correct nothing.

(im sorry to all my followers, the maggots, and everyone reading this post, i'm afraid this level of quality will be sustained for the rest of the post)

Whatever it may be... haveth my summary of Good Omens Ep3, or whatever I remember of it, anyway.

The second the episode started streaming everyone was yelling about the cold open in the chat.

I could be conflating this with Ep 1 but I think it begins with Aziraphale's gaslight gatekeep girlboss moment where he straight up LIES TO GOD about giving the dumb humans a flaming sword right after they fell from grace.

Hot take from someone who has negligible biblical knowledge, look at it, guys. What harm has an apple ever done to mankind (except to doctors)? Nothing. *nods vigorously* And then our lovely angel goes and gIVES THEM A GODDAMN FLAMING SWORD. Nice, fire and weaponry, this is going to go well for the world!

Anyway lesson is Aziraphale is a chaotic lil bastard and it's why we and Crowley love him.

Fast forward to uh, Noah's Ark... There is a unicorn and it runs away, which Crowley/Crawly seems concerned about. Azi is just chilling there watching all of humanity be drowned and Crowley, looking gorgeous may I add, walks up and she's like CHILDREN? WHY ARE YOU KILLING CHILDREN?

Did I mention that she looks gorgeous with those flowing locks because she does. It gives kind of Disney Brave vibes, doesn't it? Wait is David Tennant Scottish I WANT A DAVID TENNANT/CROWLEY MERIDA COSPLAY.

Anyway so Aziraphale and Crowley watch everyone drown etc

I may have missed a few centuries but then we have ol' Bill Shakespeare and Hamlet (David!!) and Aziraphale like the bean he is wants to cheer them on, and does it badly.

Crowley is standing there thinking man this angel is a fucking doofus why do I love him, and then they make a deal that allows them to do NO work whatsoever since their work cancels out anyway.

Aziraphale pouts at Crowley and Crowley melts inside and makes Hamlet a success though he doesn't even like Shakespeare's tragedies but Azi does and that's all that matters.

OH YEAH FRENCH REVOLUTION. Just to fuck with Aziraphale and because the painkillers are getting to me, I'm gonna do this one in my shit French (et non, je ne peux pas utiliser les accents, j'utilise l'ordinateur et je ne veux pas ouvrir Google). Alors, la revolution est la, Aziraphale veut manger (quelle surprise) et ses vetements sont tres chers, les sans-culottes le tueront, mais Crowley vient et Aziraphale dis "Crowley! Mon hero"

Okay I ran out of French but yes so he was gonna be hanged but Crowley came and Aziraphale's face literally melted and then he switched clothes with the guard and left him to die while he and Crowley went to dine happily (Aziraphale dined, Crowley was hungry for Azi because he has a watching-angel-eat kink).

Aziraphale being a casual accessory to murder/murderer is the most underrated part of good omens.

Fast forward and it's the holocaust and Aziraphale is tricked by some Nazis and they're about to kill him. But Crowley walks down the aisle to their groom, well, more like skips while yelping, and burns the place down for Aziraphale. Naturally Azi's like OH NO MY BOOKS and is ready to cry, then Crowley gently hands him the suitcase full of books unharmed and says just a little miracle for you, baby, want a ride home? And Aziraphale is left holding the books (which by the by Crowley does not care about, they do NOT read books, again, just for Azi) and looking like the happiest man alive and like he would die for Crowley.

Fast forward and we have Crowley in the sixties SERVING with her bob cut, anyone who doesn't like it can fight me to the DEATH, I LOVE HER, and anyway Crowley manipulates, manslaughters and manwhores her way into getting into the car with Aziraphale. He hands her a bottle of holy water because fuck heaven he would do anything for Crowley, and Crowley offers to drive him anywhere (mmmhm Crowley sure you're just being a gentledemon) and Aziraphale tells her that she goes too fast for him. IF THIS ISN'T CALLBACKED IN S3 WITH CROWLEY SAYING "YOU RIDE TOO FAST FOR ME, ANGEL" on a motorbike or horse or his peepee ANYTHING IDC im gonna throw hands.

I'm choosing to forget all the breakups so end cold open back in present day

They're in a paintball arena and Crowley presses Aziraphale into the wall while growling I'm not nice (ok Crowley bro maybe it's time to take a break from 2010s wattpad) and Aziraphale is just gazing adoringly at him. Ex-Satanic nun comes and is like oh my bad this is an intimate moment and Crowley turns around immediately cross that someone's interrupting them but Aziraphale continues to stare at Crowley's face hornily until he reluctantly looks at the nun too. Thanks for the acting choices Michael Sheen.

They hypnotise her and Azi melts when she mentions the antichrist's toesy-woesies and then they leave and Azi is hit by paint, Crowley circles him devouring him with his gaze and finally blows away the paint with an air kiss. I see you, Azi, I KNOW you can get rid of it yourself. Anyway then Crowley turns all the paintball guns into rifles and people start shooting and Azi is like THIS is my husband and they walk away to have drinks while the police swarms.

People were like 'Crowley only ensured no one got killed because of the look Azi gave him' like LMAO have you MET them? Aziraphale is always fucking down for murder, Crowley is the one being like FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AZIRAPHALE NO. Azi was like "shit we gotta kill the antichrist you do it" and crowley's like "bitch slow down we can literally just raise the kid right"

Anyway Crowley gaslights some demons about seeing the hellhound and ig whatever I said happened in Ep 2 with Dog actually happened here etc

The bandstand scene, fuck me. Crowley asks Aziraphale to run away together from the end of the world and Aziraphale says no and they're both sad

we're all sad too

the end

[aurumacadicus]

Oh oh oh!!! 37 or 73. Dealer’s choice.

Thanks!

I decided to be nice and went with 73 <3

--

"I am getting real tired of meeting you here," Tony said, and he looked just as long-suffering as he sounded when Steve looked up at him through the bars of his cell. "I'm also getting real tired of everyone but you calling me for help."

Steve opened his mouth, but he wasn't entirely certain what to say. He's called Tony for help the first time he'd gotten arrested, but Tony had looked so bewildered and... sort of offended when he'd arrived? Steve had decided he'd stop calling Tony and just call on his less judgemental teammates (Bruce was a no-go after the second time) to come bail him out. He had no idea why they, in turn, had called Tony up to take on his bail. He always offered to pay them back, and he always showed up for court.

Come to think of it, the judge was starting to look at him a lot like Tony was, Steve mused, rubbing his hand over his mouth to hide an amused smile.

"You know," Tony continued when Steve said nothing, and the smile dropped from his face when he realized he'd actually been waiting for a response. "I understand you're trying to... figure yourself out, or whatever Natasha said. I just wish--"

"I am not trying to figure myself out. I am punching neo-nazis," Steve corrected firmly. "I do not enjoy punching neo-nazis. In fact, I very much dislike the fact that there are neo-nazis to punch."

Tony pursed his lips, obviously unimpressed. "The pictures the Daily Bugle post show you looking quite happy to punch them. It looks a little unhinged actually and I am officially asking you to fucking cut it out for a month. I have a fundraiser for the Maria Stark Foundation and I don't want to spend the entire thing fielding questions about your disdain for the law."

"I've never been convicted of a crime," Steve began, drawing himself up in offense.

"You're Captain America. Who wants to convict Captain America of a crime when you punch a neo-nazi?" Tony retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Stop punching people. Find a different hobby. I hear bird watching and crossword puzzles are popular with your age group."

"I'm telling Natasha you think her crossword puzzles make her old," Steve tried again.

"Her gardening hobby makes her old too. Make sure you tell her I said that," Tony retorted, then stepped closer, pointing at him through the bars. "I'm telling you one last time before I put my foot up your ass, Steve. Do things that make you happy--within the confines of the legal system."

It took everything in him not to immediately answer 'no.' He thought Tony might actually break through the bars and murder him. "Okay."

Tony blinked at him, apparently having expected more argument. Steve normally would have given him one, but Tony had proved very protective over his mother's foundation and all the events it held. Steve didn't feel inclined to push his luck. Especially since he was inside the cell and Tony was not, and Tony could leave him here.

"...Okay," Tony finally agreed. He narrowed his eyes skeptically. Steve tried to look as innocent as possible and was rewarded with a sour, "Don't do that."

"Fine," Steve said, contrite expression dropping. "Can we leave?"

Tony continued to stare at him, considering. Finally, though, he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I sent your court date to Natasha since you broke your phone on someone's face. Please stop doing illegal shit until after the gala."

Steve sighed. "Fine. Can I take you out to coffee? That's not illegal anymore apparently."

Tony whipped around to stare at him again, aghast. Finally, he managed to bark a confused, "HUH?"

"You told me to find my happiness within legal confines," Steve reasoned. "Homosexuality was legalized in New York in the eighties. I looked it up."

Tony stared at him a little longer, then let out a reedy, overwhelmed laugh. "What are you talking about?!"

"Let's discuss it over coffee," Steve tried again, and then, "Or dinner? Whichever you prefer."

"Shut the fuck up," Tony laughed, rolling his eyes, and finally turned to leave. "I'll go tell the officer to let you out."

Steve watched him go, stunned. Then he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. This was why he preferred punching neo-nazis. They, at least, knew what his intentions were. He could probably give Tony a 'will you go out with me? yes or yes' note and he'd just laugh and say he forgot to add 'no.'

[that-was-a-bit-stupid-of-you]

I don't understand, what's going on with Taylor and Matt trash being a couple? Could you explain to me?

nothing is really going on at the moment tbh, cuz they broke up a pretty long while ago, but the issue is the album (if that's what you're referring to) and taylor swift herself.

[will add sources and more stuff when I find the links and if I realise I missed something out, cuz this is a general thing based off of memory]

Context: dating history

Basically she and matty had been friends for a few years (there are rumors of them hooking up ig in 1989 era maybe, but I don't really care enough to believe shit like that). Apparently he had also been pining for her (according to stuff he said in interviews and tweets) for years, but again, you can still chalk it up to rumors if you wanna.

The thing is that post her breakup with joe alwyn, she started dating him (in like april I think) [there had been dating rumors of them since 2014 tho, and again in March 2023] and the fandom kinda got divided.

Here is the link to their entire timeline

Context: what matty healy did

Matty healy (you prolly know this) is basically racist, sexist, antisemitic, homophobic and God knows what else I have missed out or not been aware of. He did shit like doing the nazi gesture on stage, mocking asian accents, tastelessly making fun of ice spice on her race and bodyshaming her, laughing and basically confirming that he watches violent rape porn of black women on a site that is known to be highly problematic and force their actors (gender neutral) to do things they dont consent to (there was also an actress who was assaulted or something but im not informed on it). Even when he was called out on stuff like this, he accused people (who were poc, btw) of overreacting.

Context: taylor and activism

Taylor had also, in the past (lover era, and miss Americana the doc) had talked about how she had been too quiet about political issues and politics itself for too long, that she understands her influence and power in society, and that she "needs to be on the right side of history" and even specifics such as that she thinks it's spineless to go on stage and say "happy pride month" and not acknowledge the political oppression that queers in USA were facing (something about a bill or the republican party idk man I'm not american, i dont remember but i did research when i watched the doc tho). She has claimed she was gonna be clear about where she stands (many republicans had considered her to be one, and many thought she's conservative or something, but she was always quiet about it, until the lover era). However, she just stopped that activism after the lover era, and went back to being quiet on where she stands (I've seen many swifties refer to the lover era as the activism era) and hasn't spoken about anything substantial really. She did some things like post a black square with 13 hearts during blm, and stuff that every celeb who wasn't openly a pos did, but that's kinda it. Even as a self proclaimed feminist, she didn't speak up on issues such as roe v wade, or about an issue regarding drag queens despite having them in yntcd, or talking about trans/queer rights until she was in a blue state (im not an American, I just like to keep up a little with stuff in usa cuz it's always up in my face sadly, and thus i cant be specific, but anyways, correct me if I'm wrong, or if I missed something).

So even after saying she'll be vocal, she was just... not. And that's basically her on politics or giving a shit about minority communities.

Context: Fandom's reaction

Swifties were extremely disappointed that taylor CHOSE to associate with a man like this, and there were fans calling her out, and she received backlash, too.

Most of these swifties were poc (myself included) and they felt hurt that an artist that they not just supported and developed such a deep connection with, but also financially supported for years, would have such disregard for them. Not just was she dating him, but she kept saying things such as "I have never been happier in all aspects of my life" or saying "I love you" or "uk who you are" in romantic songs on the tour, which was just adding insult to injury. She also did a collab with ice spice (which was completely out of nowhere, and the collab itself seemed badly made and rushed), which fans and others speculated to be a pr cover up for the fact that matty healy had mocked her (many ppl also believed that it was too quick for it to be a pr cover tho).

Now, in the fandom, when poc swifties were calling her out on dating mh, (mostly) white swifties started harassing poc swifties for doing so, or saying that they are hindering with her happiness or some bs about it being "just a fling" (again, myself included). They said it's the same as seeing a friend get out of a long-term relationship and make bad dating choices, and poc swifties should let it go (as if taylor is our close personal friend). In a mostly white fandom, poc swifties felt alienated and sidelined.

Ofc, taylor never addressed any of this backlash, and after she broke up with him, there were articles saying that sources say (which mostly means her pr team atp) that her breakup had nothing to do with his controversies or behavior.

The album release (lyrics, references and reaction)

Now, with the release of ttpd, contrary to what most of the fandom believed, most of the songs on both the albums are believed to be (and heavily hinted on) about matty healy. These include 4 songs- "ttpd", "but daddy I love him", "I can fix him (no really I can)", and "guilty as sin?"

Ttpd, the title track, talks about mh being "a tattooed golden retriever" (wtf) and about him love-bombing her, and her pining after him, thinking about marriage and shit. But daddy I love him and I can fix him, are basically that no one supported her dating decision and she's claiming that she loves him oh so goddamn much, but more importantly, her talking about her fans' reactions. Specifically, describing her poc fans to be "vipers" and "judgemental creeps" who hate her and them being hurt as "bitching and moaning", and basically took the side of the (white) fans who defended her, indirectly. She described his racist bs as "crazy" and said shit like she could "handle a dangerous man." She also has another song, "Guilty as sin?" and while I genuinely don't give a fuck about what she chooses to do in her private life, unless it is problematic, it is about her fantasizing about being with that racist man while being in a long term relationship with joe alwyn. She sings about how she wants him and wants to be with him... in multiple ways, iykyk. Again, out of context, I love this song so much, but that doesn't erase the context, right?

She also has a song "I hate it here" where she says the following lines:

"My friends used to play a game where

We would pick a decade

We wished we could live in instead of this

I'd say the 1830s but without all the racists and getting married off for the highest bid"

And while there are many reasons why this line by itself is racist (romantisization of a time that was extremely shitty to many communities, most of which she is not a part of, showing herself to be "oh look I'm so woke I still remember the bad things even when I romanticize bad eras in history" which is something you expect from an ignorant white high schooler maybe, not a 34 y/o billionaire who claims to be well-read, etc.) but taylor swift herself saying these is adding insult to injury cuz she has shown time and time again she has no problem with racism (she kept quiet when antonia gentry, a black actress, received hate and racist threats by swifties because of a line BY NETFLIX that taylor didn't like, and she shouldn't ofc, but it wasn't the actress' fault), or associating herself with them (matty healy, for example). It is hypocritical to write something like that after writing an album about pining after a man and his "dangerousness," which is just bigotry. Way to romanticise racism, sexism, and antisemitism, taylor.

Even now, after listening to the album, she clearly doesn't like mh anymore, NOT because of his actions, but because he broke her heart, showing that she still enables and is okay with everything he did.

And that's kind of it (ig) about her and matty healy. I'm not really sure exactly which part you wanted to know, so this is just a gist of it all. Hope it helps :)

[thewulf]

Big Blue World || Joel Miller

Request: Can you do a Joel Miller x Franks Younger sister reader?? I haven't seen any fics with her. Maybe she's a bright ray of sunshine to Joel's grumpiness?... Read rest here

A/N: Wasn't planning on posting this first but inspiration struck and you've gotta take it! Hope you guys enjoy.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N

Word Count: 9.4k+ (Another long one!)

TW: Talk of suicide, general TLOU warnings

One – Seven Years Post Outbreak: The Dinner

The first time you laid eyes on him was only a few years after you and Frank moved in with Bill. It was simple really. Both you and Frank fell into Bill’s trap ditch. You managed to break your ankle on the fall down. Panicked and sure death was in your immanent future you burst out into tears. You weren’t made for this kind of life. This impossibly hard life. You, Frank, and a group of nine others were venturing to the Boston QZ after your home was demolished. You’d been walking for what felt like months, you could really never be too sure.

It didn’t make sense how you of all people were one of the last surviving in the group. Often getting by with just the skin of your teeth your only saving grace being that you were quick. You could run for your life. That, and you had Frank. He was eight years older and the best big brother you could have ever dreamed of. Even pre-outbreak the two of you were thick as thieves plotting to take over the world. He saved your life more times than you could count. You hated it. Being weak and shit. You wanted to be better for Frank. You had to survive with him. He couldn’t do it alone either.

So, when you fell into Bill’s hole and screeched you were just thankful whatever it was would take you both out. Neither having to live in this sick world alone. To your pleasant surprise Bill not only let you stay but he knew how to fix your ankle properly, without having pain in the future. You were sure Bill and Frank fell in love that first night. You didn’t know how that all that worked but you were so happy that your brother found his happiness, his purpose.

Life slowly turned back to a weird fucked up new normal for the three of you. Bill and Frank fell madly in love with each other within a few months. They never excluded you though, making you feel as though you were meant to be here with them. You found it easy to pretend you were back in life pre-outbreak. Finding hobbies around town you got really into knitting and gardening. You just wanted to be seen as useful to Bill. He was kind enough to let you stay so you wanted, needed, to bring something to the table.

You were interrupted from your solace hearing the men arguing at the front of the house. So much for weeding. Being far too curious for your own good you listened in on the two of them as they bickered.

“Oh, fuck you!” Frank yelled rather dramatically.

“Hey! Would you stop?” You knew Bill was rolling his eyes at your brother’s antics. Whatever the hell he could be up to now.

“Do I ask for things ever? Why am I even saying that? This is for me. This is for the three of us!” Your brother yelled. You inched closer dying to know what this blow out was about. The two men could be so damn dramatic when they wanted to be.

“Who cares what they look like?” Bill continued. What the fuck were they on about? You could only wonder as you sat behind the tree near the front listening in.

“I do! Our home isn’t just our house. It’s everything around us!” Frank yelled again throwing his arms up in the air. Oh, he was on the beautification subject again. Frank wanted everything pretty, but Bill never let him. Resource management was key.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.” Bill returned your over dramatic brothers cries. Oops. You knew that was a mistake. Bill always tried to argue but Frank always won.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. I live in this world. You live in a psycho bunker where 9/11 was an inside job, and the government are all Nazi’s.” Your older brother seemed to calm down even though you knew he was downright mocking Bill.

“The government are all Nazi’s!” He boomed. You couldn’t help but to let out a silent laugh. You agreed with him of course. Frank just knew how to push his buttons.

“Well, yeah, now! But not then!” Frank defended, “I am asking for some paint and some gasoline for the lawn mower. That’s all. I’ll do everything else myself.”

“It is not man-“

Frank interrupted him clearly agitated. You were getting a full-on show now. You hated to admit it, but you loved when they had blow outs. It was your entertainment for the day, “If you say resource management so help me, I will run through one of your trip wires.”

“Okay, okay. Just tell me why.” Bill seemed to reason. Boo. You knew as soon as it calmed down the show was over. It was fun while it lasted. Standing slowly you were going to make your way back to the garden only to hear Frank continue.

“Paying attention to things. It’s how we show love.” You listened in again. What the hell was he talking about now? It sounded like bullshit, “This is my street too. Just let me love it the way I want to. And I’m fixing up some of the shops.”

Ohh, it just got juicy again.

“Woah, woah, woah.”

Frank rolled his eyes, “Not the stupid ones. Just the wine shop, and the furniture store. And the clothing boutique.”

“The boutique? Are we hosting formal garden patties now?”

“No!” Frank couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at the man. That was so like him, “But we are going to have friends.”

“Excuse me.”

“We’re going to make friends and we will invite them to visit.” Oh, hell yeah, this was getting good now. You could use some friends anyway. You prayed Frank won this battle with Bill.

“We don’t have friends Frank. We will never have friends. Because there are no friends to be had. Other than Y/N.” You grinned hearing that last bit thrown in. You loved that he always made sure to include you. You grew on him that’s for sure.

“Well, I’ve actually been talking to a nice woman on the radio.”

“You what?!” He screamed. Oh hell, Frank was in trouble now and he knew it. You watched as he darted to the front door ignoring Bill.

Bill turned right to you shaking his head. Busted, “I know you heard that whole thing. You’re not sneaky.”

You shrugged, “Who said I was trying to be?”

“You and your brother are going to fucking kill me.” He groaned making his way in to talk to Frank.

You only smiled as he departed. Bill had also grown on you.

Next thing you knew you were meeting the nice woman named Tess and her friend Joel. You couldn’t but to take your eyes off the man. He wasn’t like anything you’ve come across in Baltimore and now here. He was so freaking handsome. You hadn’t a clue how to handle it. It’d been years since you talked to another human let alone a beautiful man.

At dinner you made sure to look at anything but him, keeping your eyes locked on either Tess or Frank. Luckily Bill was his usual grumpy self after losing to Frank and kept his gun out and trained on the two strangers. You were so thankful he kept their attention instead of you.

“Can you not, please?” Frank sighed looking over to his boyfriend. You bit you lip trying to stifle the smile that threatening to spill over. They were always bickering. Like an old married couple. They couldn’t even hold it together in front of the guests.

“I’m the same way.” You heard Joel speak for the first time. He seemed to let Tess take the lead most of the time. Thankful you weren’t standing. You were sure your knees would be wobbly. He had that smooth southern drawl with a thick husky bite that’d draw just about anybody in. Fuck. You couldn’t have possibly been this horny to be thinking such things of a literal stranger. You had to reign yourself in quick.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank quickly chided in. You only leaned back rolling your eyes earning a quick glance from the handsome stranger.

“I’m not schizophrenic.” Bill sat there looking between everyone. That killed the whole mood. Great, just wonderful. The first real people you meet, and you’ve all ruined the chances of them coming back already.

Tess cleared her throat interrupting the silence, “Well, can I just say, gun aside, which I get,” She laughed but continued, “how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It’s been so long. I mean, I just, uh, I wanna thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank cheers confidently. You only leaned forward smiling, “We are.” He looked at Bill who only looked horrifically apprehensive about this whole situation. Frank was pushing him beyond his limits.

Before you knew it Frank and Tess were walking inside giddily talking about something they chatted about on the radio. Leaving only you, Bill, and Joel alone. Great, the three mutes. You leaned back waiting. It wasn’t your place. This was for the big dogs, and you certainly weren’t one of them.

“If my uh, if mine brought strangers into our situation I wouldn’t be too happy either. But of all the people you could’ve found on the radio we’re actually decent people.” You leaned back further letting your mind wander as the two of them talked. You only prayed Bill wouldn’t drive him away completely.

You sighed as they left. Bill drove them out. You stayed a couple of feet behind and watched the two conversations unfold. You gave Tess a wave and smile before she was out. Joel didn’t bother turning around as he waved the group off. Leaving you with only a small frown. They’d be back soon enough. You were sure of it.

Two – Eleven Years Post Outbreak: The Supply Run

That familiar voice that you hadn’t heard in so long came from downstairs. Quickly, you ran down the steps to greet the now acquaintance that you wished would show up more often than he did.

“Joel! Tess!” You jumped down the last step only to be greeted with Joel and Bill, “Wait where’s Tess?” Fear ran through you. Did she get infected? Was she gone already? She was Frank’s only friend outside of here.

“Frank just took her to the boutique.” Bill grumbled sitting down in the chair at the dining table.

You let out the breath you were holding, “Good!” You clapped thankful that the worst hadn’t come over your somewhat friend. If you could use that word, “Maybe she’ll pick out some of the clothes I made.” You grinned knowing you just stocked the store up with your latest sweaters and hats. What else were you supposed to do with your time other than make way too much clothing that the three of you would never go through?

“You make clothes?” Joel asked seemingly interested in the conversation.

You beamed just happy he noticed you. He hardly noticed you before, only briefly talking to you each time they had come back. It seemed they stopped about once a year. Tess always giving Frank a heads up on the radio before the made the trek up north.

You wished you could get Joel to see you. But you were just Frank’s little naïve sister. That’s all you ever seemed to be. Not that you blamed him, he was right after all. You really were just Frank’s naïve little sister having way too much optimism for this cold world.

 You craved any attention Joel gave you. From the second you laid eyes onto him four years prior and every brief interaction each year since you were entranced by him. He was so strong and composed. Something so opposite of you. Someone so sure of himself every time he came around. And Jesus, look at the man. He was so damn attractive it nearly drove you mad. He only seemed to get more handsome each time he and Tess walked through those gates. You thought about him far too often. Far too often for somebody who saw you as Franks little sister.

“I did and do! There should be some that fit you if you want some yourself?” You gave him a hopeful smile. Maybe he’d accept?

Joel looked somewhat impressed? You couldn’t tell. It wasn’t a look you’ve seen from him before, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You grinned, daring to take a step closer, “Bill’s even modeling my latest collection. Classic springtime.” You waited patiently for him to decide. You weren’t sure how to handle yourself if he decided to come with you. You’d literally dreamed of alone time with Joel and here was a chance at it… you didn’t think you were ready.

Bill huffed turning away. Because of course he did. Earning a brilliant scowl from you. Truth be told he held a lot of love for you in his heart too. Your constant reassurance and optimism grew on him over time, not that he’d ever dream of telling you. He wasn’t mushy. He could hardly handle you in your sober state. In your emotional one? He’d for sure go mad.

As if by a miracle Frank and Tess came barging in giggling about who knows what. Saving you from a too awkward encounter with both grumpy men. You couldn’t help but to smile at the Tess and Frank. They would have been friends’ pre-outbreak too. You could just tell. Two souls that connected so effortlessly.

 Joel noticed you watching them. He always noticed. He was always watching you when you weren’t watching him. He couldn’t help it. He was drawn to you, and he was really God damn tired of fighting it. Every time he came, he hoped he wouldn’t run into you. He wanted to but for his sanity’s sake he couldn’t run into you. But you always showed up. With that damn brilliant smile and cheerful greetings. Making him feel way too special. He craved it. He loved it.

“Y/N!” Tess came rushing over to you placing both hands on either of your shoulders, “You made these? These are actually good. They have designs in them and shit. I didn’t really believe Frank when he said you were good at it, but he was right. I’m impressed.”

You shrugged, “Well, when you have all the time in the world.”

That earned a chuckle out of the woman. She seemed so happy and relaxed here. A side Joel rarely saw. A side that was seemingly reserved for you and Frank. It made sense though, both of you were infectious. Both Joel and Tess let their usual stoic guard down around you both.

“Joel. Go now. Y/N will show you.” She ordered. So sure of herself. Something you so deeply admired about the slightly older woman. She lived that life. The rugged one. Yours was so damn peaceful compared to hers. A country club compared to the life she lived.

You nodded towards the door, “Come on, I’ll show you.” Not daring to betray Tess’s orders you nodded for him to hurry up.

He nodded. His mind was made up for him by Tess, “Alright. Lead the way.” He tried to look grumpy. He didn’t know how it was actually paying off though. Because he was way too damn excited to finally be alone with you.

You held the door open waiting for him to join you outside. You led the way a couple of steps in front of him. Tired of the silent walk you had to say something, “How’ve you been holding up Joel?”

He sped up a couple of steps taking that as an invitation to walk beside you. He had no God damn idea of how to act around you. He had a stupid big fat crush on you that Tess, and now Frank, knew about. He was sure that’s why she sent the two of you alone.

It happened slowly for Joel. Initially, he really only did see you as Frank’s little sister. You didn’t do much for him. But over time, over the shortest of visits he slowly started to look forward to seeing you bright shining face. You always greeted him with the happiest of smiles. Like it was the pre-outbreak world, like nothing was wrong. Tess picked up on it over time when he bugged her to visit with supplies. Claiming he needed to see Bill but always brining you up somehow.

Joel knew it was dangerous. Falling for someone in a world like this. Someone like you. You were just too pure for this world. He couldn’t see you outside of these chain link fences. He didn’t want to imagine you trying to survive out there. You didn’t deserve it. You deserved so much more.

“I’m okay. We’re okay. Getting by just fine. Couple supply runs here and there.” His accent came out strong the longer he was away from the QZ. The longer he was able to relax the thicker it came out.

“Good.” You nodded. You too had no idea how to talk to him. Coming from such separate worlds it was like your brain couldn’t fetch the words to converse with him. Which was really bad for you.

“And you?” He offered. He was trying. Something you hadn’t seen from the gruff man. You turned looking at his face as the setting sun seemed to hit all his angles just right. Eyes tracing every feature you soaked everything about him in.

“I’m decent.” You sighed knowing that was a terrible answer. So, you did what you did best and just started talking, “Been busy knitting a store up. Trying some new techniques in the garden I read from a 2001 Farmers Almanac. I think it’s working too. I’ve got a ton of cucumbers. I’ve gotta pickle them or they’ll go bad. Unless you guys want some?” You offered knowing you needed to stop before you babbled far too much. It was either way too much talking or stone-cold silence when it came with you and awkward conversations. And this was incredibly awkward.

He was giving you a different look. A much softer one. One that’s as if he’s seen you for the first time, “We’ll take some. But you’ve gotta pickle the rest. We’ll be back and then I’ll take some pickles. Deal?”

You giggled feeling your cheeks heat up as he kept his eyes locked with yours. You watched as you saw his eyes turn up slightly as small smile formed on his face. You had a feeling this was a very rare occurrence for Joel. Not often finding that smile. And you were right. It was terribly foreign to Joel, but you brought it out. Somehow, some way he felt a little lighter when you were there.

“Deal! We’ll have way too much for us anyway. The garden is getting a bit out of hand, but it keeps me busy.” You stopped pointing towards the building, “Here we are.”

He held his hand out, “Ladies first.”

“Course.” You smiled leading him in, “There should be some stuff over there that you might like. I’ve got some extra stuff in the back if you don’t like any of it.”

He nodded letting himself go and search. You sat back on the countertop that used to contain the cash register.

“You really made these?” You heard him before you saw him.

“The ones without the tags yeah!” You brought your legs up and sat with them crossed beneath you. Simply waiting on him to grab whatever he needed.

Before you knew it, he walked up to you holding a few sweaters and shirts, “Is it alright if I take these?”

You nodded, “Sure. I’ve got plenty more. It only takes a few hours to make these now. I’m afraid I’m going to run out of yarn.”

“I can get you some.” He replied without a hesitation.

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Consider it a trade. Next time I see you I’ll have some. What colors you want?”

You smiled a bright smile to him. You’ve grown so fond over the four years you’ve known each other. But it felt like you’d suddenly broke through to him. Whatever it was you were so thankful. This was a Joel you didn’t know. A Joel you could surely get used to. Even if you only saw him every year or so.

“Pinks and purples. I ran out of those so quick. Didn’t know how much I liked them.”

He nodded, “Pink and purple yarn coming right up.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

He shrugged, “Consider it a trade.”

Three – Fifteen Years Post Outbreak: The Seed Trade

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Looking around to make sure Bill wasn’t going to pop up.

Frank shrugged, “He’s got so many fucking guns he won’t notice a measly 9mm missing.”

You sighed feeling that anxiety rising in your chest, “Fine. Who’s coming for this trade?”

“Joel.”

“Joel?” You sounded surprised. It had only been six months or so since you’d seen him last. Not that you were complaining in the slightest. You’d always welcome him back.

“And Tess.” He smirked, “But I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You giggled knowing he was teasing about your crush on Joel.

“They say after six months of crushing on someone it’s love. It’s been what? Eight fucking years of the two of you flirting like mad when he comes around. I think it’s past love at this point.”

“What of it Frank? It’s not like he’s moving in here. It’s not like I’m moving to the Boston QZ.” Rolling your eyes, you leaned onto the chain link fence.

Franked rolled his eyes right back at you, “Why couldn’t he move here?”

“Uhm, because he has his own life with Tess?”

He shrugged, “You know people moved for far less in the pre-outbreak days.”

“Well, we aren’t living in those days, are we? We’re living in fucking reality Frank. He has a life. I have mine.”

“You haven’t even asked.”

“It’s not my place to.” You admitted. Sure, you’d thought of it, but it wasn’t your place to in the slightest. This was Bill’s place after all. The two of you so immersed in the debate back and forth neither of you heard the pair coming up on you both. It wasn’t even like they were being that silent.

“What were you guys talking about?” Tess asked popping out of thin air. Joel stood behind her smirking at the heated conversation between the two siblings. He and Tommy bearing a striking resemblance to the bickering siblings.

“Nothing!” You turned smiling at the pair you’ve grown to love over the years.

“Joel!” Frank said right after you. You turned towards your sibling eyeing him up and down. The nerve on him beyond you at this point. Frank was really just tired of waiting to see you two together. He knew there was nothing going on between Joel and Tess, like you were worried about, but he also knew Joel was apprehensive. As were you.

“And Tess!” You turned towards the two of them again, “Good to see you both so soon.” You smiled brightly towards Joel. Your best smile reserved for your favorite man. That certainly didn’t help your case with Frank though.

“I got you some more colors.” He handed you a duffel bag stuffed full, “Red, purple and blue this time.”

“You’re spoiling me, Joel Miller.” You cheered happily accepting the gift. Tess and Frank could only step back and watch the innocent interaction. For the life of her Tess couldn’t understand how soft Joel got with you. Only with you. Frank too marveled at your nerves with the man. Your usual confident self only seemed to waver in his presence.

“Or” You turned back towards him with wide eyes. Getting ready to tease him, “Is it because you know I’ll make you nice clothing?” You continued on, welcoming the harmless flirting that always seemed to arise between the two of you.

“You caught on quick.” He threw you a rare wink.

You giggled softly, acutely aware of the audience intently listening in behind you, “You’re lucky I adore you both. I’m more than happy. Any requests?” It really was your favorite. Gift giving was your love language to others. It just made you so warm and fuzzy inside to see everybody’s reactions to getting something they love.

Tess coughed, not caring that she was interrupting the moment. She needed some items and if you were offering, she would be taking. She missed the harsh glare from Frank though, “I really could use some new socks.”

You turned towards your friends, “You got it. Stick around long enough today and I go grab you a few pairs?”

She nodded her head quickly, “I honestly could really use them. You mind Joel?”

“As long as Bill doesn’t.”

Frank shook his head quickly, “Not at all! We’ll make sure to have dinner ready for everybody.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose…” Joel began before you bucked up the courage and interrupted him. You wanted him to stay.

“You wouldn’t be at all. Bill and Frank love cooking. Enjoy it.”

Joel nodded folding into your assurance quickly. That’s all he really needed to hear before he agreed to staying.

“Thank God.” Tess grumbled, “I could use some good food too. Joel, we gotta get out here more often.” Tess notes.

“I agree!” You nodded trying not to be too gleeful about the innocent proposition.

“Yes please.” Frank nods. He adores hosting and wants people to come around more often. Especially if those people include Joel. He so desperately wanted to see you happy with him. Even if it meant losing you to the Boston QZ. He knew you’d visit.

Joel let out a rare laugh seeing the group so happy. So fucking carefree. So, unlike the norm. God, he missed the old days. How simple that life really was, “I’m not stopping anyone.”

Tess smiled, “It’s settled then. We’re coming for you more often.”

Your face lit up at the confirmation, “Good. Well come on then.” You flashed your smile towards Joel, “You know where everything is, get comfy.” Beckoning them to come in with your hand you turned back towards Tess, “What color this time? I’ll even make you blue ones if you want!” Your cheeks began hurting from the grin that wouldn’t fall from your face. It warmed your heart that Joel always brought you more yarn, always. Even five years after that conversation with him, he never failed to bring you some.

She shook her head, “Just use some scrap yarn or something, nothing special.”

“You deserve to have a color you want Tess. Something that makes you happy. Plus you know I have a pair in every color ready to go.” Your eyes softened as you really looker her over now. The last five years not being kind on her, on anyone really. Her initial soft features began hardening over time. Wrinkles formed where her scowl always was. The world wasn’t kind to you. But the world was downright cruel to Tess and Joel.

“Anything is fine really…”

You stopped immediately not satisfied with her answer. Joel almost ran you over as he was paying attention too closely to the conversation and not what you were doing, “Well, what’s your favorite color?”

She laughed, “That’s something I haven’t thought of in a while.”

Giving her a sad look these conversations never failed to pull at your heartstrings. You all were unfortunately born into a world that would simply never exist anymore. A world that was thriving. A world that was so fucking foreign it hurt. You were almost jealous of the humans being born in the post-outbreak world. They would never know the luxury of living that old life. This was all they knew. This was their normal. This September will mark the fifteenth year that you were living this new normal. This insanely fucked up normal.

“Mine was pink. But it just doesn’t seem as happy anymore.” You admitted, “I think my new favorite is blue. Sky blue. That’s happiness to me.” You shot her a small smile.

“Why’s that?” She asked as the group started their short walk back to Bill’s house.

You shrugged hoping what you were admit didn’t make you look too soft, “When I get tired of gardening I like to lay down and just look up. Watch the clouds like I did when I was a little kid. Find figures in the clouds. The sky never changes. There’s just something so cathartic about it.”

You didn’t see it because he was walking behind you but a ghost of a smile crossed Joel’s lips. He couldn’t help it. He was so fucking drawn into everything about you. So gentle in a world that wanted to rip you apart at any moment. He, of course, made a note of it. He needed to find sky blue yarn. It wouldn’t be easy now. It started getting difficult to find untouched yarn in the QZ. It was even harder finding it outside. But it never bothered him. The smile alone on your face when he handed you a bag full of yarn was worth all the trouble to get it.

Tess nodded, “I think mines green. Grass green. Tree green.”

“And why’s that?” You asked her the same question, curious as to what she came up with.

“Green means the weather gets better. It just makes life easier.” She let out a small sigh of frustration. A growing frustration of trying to stay alive. It wears down on you far too quickly.

Again, another wave of sadness rushed through your heart. Why were you, of all people in the world, given the chance to live this somewhat normal life in the middle of nowhere? Why wasn’t Joel given the chance? Tess? The longer you lived here relatively unstressed the more guilty you felt through it all. Especially seeing just how much the real world had aged the pair.

“Then green it is. I have a really nice forest green pair I think you’ll like. Did the last pair fit okay?”

She nodded opting not to reply verbally feeling the emotions bubble up from deep within her. Emotions she buried so deep down she wasn’t sure if they’d ever come back up. But your gentleness with her, your determination to break down those walls she put up so high was beginning to crack the walls. How you could be so thoughtful was beyond her greatest comprehension. You had to be selfish in the world. You were the opposite.

“Okay!” You clapped at the group made it back to the house, “I’m going to run to the boutique to grab what I need. See you guys later.”

“Want some company?”

Your stupid heart sped right on up hearing that husky voice from behind you. Biting your cheek, you wanted to hide the smile that was forming automatically. God, you’d dreamed of moments like these. Moments where Joel sought you out instead of you seeking him out. Moments where you knew he liked you. Wanted to be around you.

“I’ll always take your company Joel.” Turning towards him you did not want to see Frank and Tess’s reaction. There was a 100% chance they’d run into the house giggling like little schoolgirls gossiping about the two of you. They turned into middle school girls the second any kind of drama could be sniffed in the air.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of a blush dance across the apples of his cheeks.

Giving him a soft smile, you started walking to the boutique with Joel in tow.

“How are you doing Joel?” You asked hoping he’d give you the real answer not the bullshit fluffy stuff you were used to. You always asked him this same question each time he came.

“I’m… tired.” He admitted while running his hand through his grown-out hair.

Looking down to the ground you hid the frown as you kept pace with Joel now, “I can’t even imagine Joel. I’m so sorry... I”

He cut you off by placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. The contact immediately making you freeze up. It’d been too long since you’d been touched by anybody other than your brother or Bill. Your eyes clouded over with unshed tears as you tried to bite back the emotion that suddenly overcame you.

“You don’t need to apologize.” You continued to walk as you racked your brain for anything to say to him, but it seemed to have short circuited.

“I feel guilty.” Not having a clue why you were admitting it to him you blinked a few times hiding your emotions best as you could.

Joel didn’t understand why you would feel that way. He just gave you a curious look, waiting for you to continue. When you didn’t hear his reply you finally bucked up the courage to get another look back at him. His eyes urging for you to elaborate.

“Why me? Why did I get to live this life. This easy, simple life? How did I luck into it? I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s all ending soon anyway.” You decided to drop the bomb on Joel. Finally feeling like you could tell somebody.

“Why do you say that?”

You sighed finally spitting out what’s been bothering you for the last few months, “I think Frank’s sick.”

“What kinda sick?”

“Not infected. I think it’s like pre-outbreak sick Joel.” You turned away wiping the stupid tears that slipped down your cheek. You were worried. So, fucking worried for your best friend.

Joel still looked confused, “Okay. Why do you think that?”

“He’s tired all the time. Complains to Bill about losing feeling in his hands and feet. He doesn’t remember things like he use to. I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

Joel frowned trying to think of words to comfort you, but he came up terribly short. He didn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. The last time he had to was when Sarah was alive. An entire lifetime ago.

You continued knowing he hadn’t a clue what to say, “Bill won’t talk to me about it either. Says nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what to do Joel. They can’t just ignore it.

“Do you think there’s medicine? I can try and find something.”

You shook your head, “Don’t think so. Don’t think they had a cure back then. Sure as hell don’t have one now.”

“Well, you don’t know that Y/N.”

“It’s not cancer. It’s in his brain or something. That’s what the books are saying. I don’t know Joel. It just doesn’t feel right.”

He nodded, “Keep an eye on him.”

You stopped in once you reached the store. Quickly you ran in grabbing what you needed before meeting him back on the street to start your walk back to Bill’s house. Both of you walked back in silence, unsure of what to say.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” Joel broke the comfortable silence that consumed the walk home.

“Yeah.” You mumbled not really feeling like debating right now.

“Really. You and Frank were meant to find this place. You were meant to do everything here. You’ve been a constant in Tess’s life. My life, for the last eight years? God, how’s it been that long?” Joel smiled thinking back on his times with you,.

You smiled, “Don’t make me feel so old Joel.”

That drew a heavenly laugh out of your favorite guy. Something that came around so rarely that you cherished every second, “You’re still a kid.” Joel didn’t believe that. As cruel as this world was to everyone it still looked so beautiful on you. You hadn’t aged like everyone he knew. A woman who could pass in her twenties easily.

Scoffing you shook your head, “Hardly! I’m seasoned at life.”

“You sure are.” Joel nodded. He smiled as he studied you this time around. He wished and prayed he wouldn’t have fallen for you, but he couldn’t resist. Not with that smile. Not with your kindness. He wished this was easier. There was no easy way to go about it. That’s why neither of you cared to admit your feelings. What good would it really do but complicate things further?

You made it back to the house where you were ambushed by Frank who looked far too happy, “Y/N! They got us strawberry seeds! Your favorite, remember?”

Walking over to him you inspected the seeds. Looking up to Tess you smiled softly to her, “Thank you. I haven’t had a, uh, strawberry in what?” You looked to Frank brushing the tears away from your eyes, “Fifteen years now?”

He nodded with a big happy smile, “Yeah, fifteen years.”

You turned to Joel, “Thank you so much!”

“Sure, we would’ve brought them sooner if I would’ve known you liked them so much.” He admitted. He wasn’t sure how you did that to him. Got him admitting embarrassing things in front of everybody he knew.

“I guess I just forgot about them. Such a luxury I didn’t even think of. They were our mom’s favorite. She found a way to incorporate them in our food almost everyday.”

Frank wrapped you in a hug. He knew just how soft you were. How sad you got when you thought about mom or dad. They just disappeared right out of your life. Dad never made it back from work that day. Mom got infected the second day. Neither of you could kill her so you ran. Ran so far away until you landed in the Baltimore QZ. Until it then was demolished.

Giving him a squeeze to let him know you were alright you pulled yourself away from him, “Thank you both. Really. Now you’ll just have to come back in a few months when they’re grown. We can make some strawberry shortcake.” The gears started turning in your head. There were so many new recipes you guys could use with strawberries now on the menu.

Joel nodded. Tess agreed, “We already agreed to coming around more often anyway. Now it’s just an extra excuse.”

Frank pulled her to the living room to talk about who knows what.

“Alright, I’ve gotta get to work.” You held up the green yarn. Walking over to the chair in the window you got comfortable.

“Want some company?” Your favorite voice broke your concentration.

“You know my answer, Joel Miller.” With some newfound confidence you winked at him as you said so.

Four – Eighteen Years Post Outbreak: The Trip Back to Boston

“No. No, no, no, no, fuck no!” You punched the pillow sitting next to you with all your might. This couldn’t be fucking happening to you. They couldn’t be making you leave. Feeling your heart tip into two you let the tears fall freely. How could your brother do this to you? You knew his health was the reason, but you couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t let you stay. You’ve been through this whole thing with him. It felt like he was just abandoning you.

“Y/N… you have to.” Frank’s sad face broke you. You didn’t care about his feelings anymore. You broke down completely now letting the loud sobs free.

“Please Frank, please don’t make me go.” Choking on your words you could hardly comprehend why he was saying this. Why he was making you go.

“You can’t be here any longer. You have to go.” He couldn’t look at you not with the look you had on your face.

“Just tell me why Frank! I can help. I can help you both. I’ll do more. If that’s what it is, you know I’ll do more Frank. Please don’t make me go. Please Frank.”

He shook his head letting his own fresh set of tears fall, “I’m dying Y/N. I’ve got a few months, maybe a year left. You can’t be here for that.”

“I’ll die out there.” You shook your head back and forth suddenly terrified of what traveling to Boston actually meant. The real world. The sick world. The world that wanted to kill you.

“Not with Joel. Not with Tess.”

A cry broke from your throat, “Just like that? After all this time? I can be there for you in the end. I can help Bill.”

“Bill’s going to have to move on to and I’m not sure if you fit into that plan.”

“Oh.” You continued to cry. Curling up within yourself you let yourself cry until you couldn’t anymore. Frank didn’t dare try and comfort you. He knew that wasn’t welcomed. So, he sat there. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not yet anyway.

After calming down you finally processed what the this all meant. It meant the end of the road for you and Frank. It meant starting over, completely. You knew it would end sooner or later but it still stung. It didn’t feel like enough time.

Standing suddenly, you caught Frank’s attention who was just sitting there with his head down, “I’m staying in the guest house.”

“Y/N…”

“Night.” You shut the door behind you, loudly.

It was still bright out when you laid down to go to sleep. Joel and Tess would be here in the morning to get you. To take you to your new home. Turning over in your bed you looked out the bedroom window studying your home once more. The flowers that bloomed out front reminded you of all the times you and Frank spent gardening. Making your home beautiful.

No longer would you be able to make trips to the boutique. No longer would you be able to stock it up for your guests. No longer would you get to live in this little fantasy land.  

Woken by a hand on your shoulder you pushed the hand away, annoyed you were woken so abruptly, “Go away Frank.” You mumbled.

“Not Frank.” Fuck. Why was Joel in your room waking you up?

“Oh,” You couldn’t bear to turn towards him. You adored him. Loved him even. But you didn’t want to go like this. Being forced outside your will. It hurt. Crushed you even. You didn’t want to take your anger out on Joel so best to keep your back turned to him. But God, you just wanted to scream. Yesterday you were just living your life as normal, as possible, that you could. Then Frank dropped the bomb and now you were just expected to go, “Sorry, Joel.” Meekly replying to the man, you shed a single tear. That’s the one thing you hated about yourself. How damn emotional you got. You couldn’t bottle it up even if you tried.

“S’fine.” He sighed not sure what to say. What could he say? He knew you didn’t want to go. Frank warned him and Tess once they got there. He knew just how devastated you likely were. Everything you knew was about to vanish. Joel had gone through that a few times. It wasn’t the best feeling. But he always survived. He knew you’d be just fine. And there was that sick twisted thought of happiness that you’d be close to him.

He tried to fight these feelings away. Tried his damn hardest. He knew you couldn’t really love in a world like this. How devastating it always ended. Nobody was ever really that lucky. Joel had loved hard and lost even harder. He swore he’d never let in anybody ever again. Tess was the closest and they were just partners. Nothing more. He loved her but he wasn’t in love with her.

Then you came along. All happy and shit. He swore he’d never love hard again but that promise seemed to crack each time he saw you. You never failed to put a smile on his usual stoic face. He resisted the urges for so long until he couldn’t any longer.

“Can you give me a moment?” You asked hoping he’d take the hint.

He nodded before realizing you were turned away from him, “Right, yeah. I’ll be at Bill’s place.”

“Okay.” You closed your eyes until you heard him close the door. Letting out the shaky breath you were holding. You watched from your window as Joel walked slowly back over to Bill’s place. Seemingly lost in thought.

You put on the fresh set of clothes that you always left over. A simple set of jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie. Not believing it was really it you forced your legs to walk back over. You had to face the music sooner or later.

“Morning.” You nodded your head at Tess, the first person you saw sitting in the living room.

Giving you a sad smile, she nodded right back to you, “Morning.”

“Y/N.” You heard your brothers voice, “Bill made you a pack. It’s got everything you might need.”

Biting your lip, you took it gratefully. You really couldn’t have done it without either of them, “Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay out there.”

“Sure.”

Joel and Tess sat back watching the painful interaction. Tess nodding towards the door letting Joel know they needed to get out. They both snuck out without you or your brother really noticing. Both too caught up in whatever the hell this was.

“Y/N.”

“Spit it out Frank.”

“I don’t want you to hate me. I’m doing this for you. It’s best for you.” You leaned back into the wall crossing your arms. Choosing your words very wisely. This would be the last time you’d talk with him in this lifetime. You had to do this right. For his sake and yours.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I love you so fucking much it hurts.” You let a tear fall. Dammit here they came. The waterworks, “I just wish you’d let me be here for you but if you think this is best then I’ll go.”

“It’s best.”

Letting a few more tears slip you nodded your head, “Tell Bill that I love him. I love you, Frank.” You walked over hugging him tightly. Squeezing him so tightly you knew it was hurting him, but he didn’t dare say a word. You were hurt and grieving him even while he was still standing there.

Letting him go you gave him your best smile, “I’ll always love you, Frank.”

“And I’ll always love you. Be safe out there.”

“You know it.” You turned quickly walking towards the door. Shutting it behind you, you took a breath. Why did you have to be born into this world? What good fucking came out of all of this. What was the point?

Walking over to Joel and Tess, you gave them a quick head nod.

“You alright?” Tess asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Joel looked a little too apprehensive seeing your blood shot eyes and rosy cheeks, “You sure?”

“Positive. Please, let’s go.”

“Alright, follow me.” Tess led the way. This was your life now. This was going to be just fine.

The walk back to the QZ was quiet and cold. You didn’t dare complain though. They were simply doing this as friends. Whatever the hell friends were. It only dawned on you as soon as you got close, without incident, that you were an outsider. How in the fuck was that going to work?

“Joel?” You asked one night shortly before you arrived.

“Hmm?” He stayed silent most of the way. Not ever knowing what to say to you. God, he wanted to be a source of comfort, but he hadn’t a clue how to be for you.

“How’s this going to work? I’m an outsider and all.”

He understood your concern, “It’s all taken care of. Tess got some paperwork made up. You’ll live with me for the time being and we’ll find you a job.”

“Cool,” You nodded. Pleasantly surprised that it had been so thought out, “Thanks Joel.”

“Sure.” He had a hard time looking at you. Knowing he’d cave for whatever friendly look you’d be giving his way.

“Thanks for everything Joel. Really. For protecting me and what not.” You mumbled feeling terribly awkward about it all. Even though you didn’t appreciate your life so much anymore it felt good to be looked after. To be wanted and taken care of.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Five – Twenty Years Post Outbreak: The Trip Back to Bill’s

“You don’t have to go in.” Joel stood at the gate blocking the path for you and Ellie.

You shook your head, “I’m okay.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Let’s fucking go then.”

Smiling at the girl you turned back towards Joel, “You heard the girl.”

He gave you a skeptical look, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I just won’t go in the house.” You kept your eyes forward, not darling to look at him.

He nodded turning back towards the overgrown town. Ellie walked past you keeping pace with Joel. Bugging him about something. You hung back taking a leisurely stroll through your old home. A place you called home for nearly fourteen years.

The usual green grass had turned a shade of brown without Frank’s attention to detail. The bright yellow flowers had been overgrown with weeds. A tug at your heartstrings knowing the worst had come to Frank. That was expected. His condition going from okay to tragic in a matter of a few months. What you didn’t expect was Bill taking his life too. Bill wouldn’t let this place go to shit. It was his home first.

Too quickly you made it back to the house. Joel looked back at you before he and Ellie went in. You nodded, letting him know it was alright. You made your way to the side of the house where your garden was. You strolled through the raised garden beds that were overgrown with who knows what now. It looked like the place hadn’t been touched in two years. He must’ve done it right after you left. They must’ve decided together. Without you.

Tears sprung to your eyes when you spotted the thriving strawberry patch. Somehow untouched by weeds or the animals around it your once small square of strawberries had grown tenfold. Seemingly thriving in this environment.

Squatting down you picked a ripe one. Turning it over in your hand a few times just thinking about Frank before you ate it. He would’ve loved to share one last one with you.

“To Frank.” You mumbled before taking the last bite, discarding the stem on the floor.

You sat down next to the strawberry patch grabbing a few more before you laid back onto the grass. Letting yourself feel sorry for yourself after everything. Knowing what Frank was going to do. Seeing Tess die in front of your eyes. Realizing Bill also left this world. Everyone you loved and cared for gone in a matter of two years.

Tess’s death hurt you the worst. One moment she was there and the next she wasn’t. So unexpected. You had time to process and grieve your brother’s death. Bills caught you off guard but didn’t surprise you completely.

Looking up to the sky you remembered a long-ago conversation with Tess about favorite colors. Sky Blue. It looked so pretty today. Not a single cloud in the sky. One big blue sky.

“Bill’s gone.” Joel’s voice interrupted your peaceful solace.

Flicking your eyes over to look at him you didn’t see Ellie behind him, “I know.”

“You, okay?” He took a seat next to you.

“Mhmm. I’m fine. Take a strawberry. They’re still good.” You smiled up at him continuing to lay on your back.

He did as you instructed, “They are.”

Giving him a genuine smile, you just felt comforted by his presence. He was the only constant in your life for the last two years. You’d grown far too attached to the man, but could you blame yourself? He was everything to you. You were so terrified that you’d lose him too. It’s all you seemed to be doing in the last two years.

“Get everything you need?”

“Yeah. Battery is charging for another hour or so.”

“Ellie?”

“She checking out the town. I told her about the boutique.”

Sitting up you looked over at him. He was so beautiful. The salt and pepper look throughout his hair only making him more attractive in your eyes. The scar that graced his cheek enhanced everything about him. His hair was at the perfect length where it flicked all over the place. He’d probably start complaining in a few weeks. Then you’d cut it and it’d be far too short, and you had to wait until it was your favorite length again.

“Maybe she’ll grab something.”

He nodded, “Power still works. Grab a shower while you can?” He stood up offering you a hand.

“Sure,” You took his hand in yours. Joel pulled you up gingerly. Always so careful with you, “Thanks Joel. I’m going to the house next door. It should still be stocked up.”

“Need a change of clothes?”

He was always so thoughtful with you. Never skipping a beat, always making you a priority. His way of showing just how much he loved you. And he did. Boy did he love you. He just had a hard time expressing it directly. Showing his love in other ways instead. He initially said no when Frank proposed you coming back with them to Boston. But when he heard his pleas through the radio, he knew what he needed to do.

He was surprised at how well you adapted out there. You knew your strengths, weaknesses. You knew how to be helpful and when to take a step back. You never complained either. Just wore a smile on your face instead. That was how you coped. Smile and walk. You’d be there soon enough. The first trip was the hardest. It got easier after that. Joel wouldn’t let you sneak out with him at first. Too scared you’d get hurt. But Tess eventually convinced him. Then you were off helping them out as you could.

“If you don’t mind? There should be some clothes in my room.”

“You got it.”

You’d known about Frank’s passing. Hoping to come to Bill’s for supplies. Lucky for you it hadn’t been raided, yet. Joel worked on getting the truck ready while you and Ellie showered.

You walked back over to Bill’s standing at the front door. You wanted to go in so bad, but it didn’t feel right. Something tell you that you shouldn’t.

“Hey, you hear me?”

You snapped out of the trance you seemed to be under, “No, sorry Joel, what’s up?”

“Come on, need your help loading up.” He motioned to the garage on the side of the house.

“Yeah, alright.” You jogged over to meet him, “Thanks for the clothes.”

“Mhmm.” He kept his gaze forward.

You really couldn’t take it much longer. The thought of losing yet another person with telling them how you felt just didn’t sit right any longer.

“You know I love you right?” You asked.

“What?” he paused looking taken aback at your sudden admittance.

“I love you, Joel.” You smiled a genuine smile. One that felt so good to do.

“You do?”

“Why do you look so surprised? Of course, I do. You’re everything to me.”

He gave you that brilliant smile that made you weak at the knees, “You love me, huh?”

You slapped his arm, “I love you. How many times are you going to make me say it?” You giggled feeling like he was loosening up. Softening even further as he saw your overexcited state

“I dunno.” He took a step towards you, “It sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” You asked transfixed on his gaze.

“Oh yeah, and you know what?” He asked.

“What’s that?”

“I think I love you too.” It felt strange admitting it out loud, but damn did it feel good. Right.

Your heart started racing, “You think?” Raising your eyebrows, you dared take a step closer to him.

He shook his head a bit upset by his choice of words. Always seeming to mess them up, “I know. I love you, Y/N.””

“I like the sound of that.” You didn’t let your smile fade only bigger. God did I feel good to get it out. You knew what his answer would be. He showed his love in other ways but damn did it feel good to hear.

“Yeah, now come here.”

[gffa]

I saw your post defending the way Jedi adopt the children/accept them into their culture, and I absolutely loved it! It was so well-informed, and you are right: It is all there in the original content!

I find it very ironic that many people spew these lies about the Jedi when that’s exactly what the Empire did. Iirc, this argument of Jedi being “kidnappers” was actually fueled by Emperor Palpatine and the Empire in their campaign against the Jedi. They wanted to discredit them and make the people turn against them so that they could erase them all more easily. So I find it very ironic that these lies are now being upheld by some people as the truth. (Really, have people forgotten the Empire was created bases on the Nazi’s and their own racist strategies?)

You are not inmune to the Empire’s propaganda.

Please correct me if I’m wrong. I’m not as good at pulling examples and proof from all the SW content as you are.

Hi! Thank you for the very sweet ask! Navigating stuff in fandom like this can be difficult at times, because there has to be room for compassion and tolerance for disagreement, like it's fine if people disagree with my views, I'm not your mom, I'm not telling you want to do or say, especially since this is fiction, these are made up space stories. But there also has to be room to understand that sometimes our commentary on fictional stories are echoes of reflection of real world attitudes--we can't just go around spewing racist, sexist, homophobic commentary and be like, "It's just fiction, you can't get upset!" There's no easy line for any of this, no single hard set in stone rule for when it's truly just fiction and when it's an echo of a real world attitude, especially in Star Wars, which often draws influence from a lot of non-Western sources and traditional Western sources. (My general rule of thumb is: I think it's fair to criticize those things through the influences they have, but if your criticism is then ended with, "So that's why we shouldn't have or acknowledge any Buddhism/Black people/queer people/women in Star Wars!" then fuck right on off with that.) And I also understand a lot of the anti-Jedi attitudes (or at least what I've personally experienced of them) because I've talked a bunch of times about how I started out as pretty Jedi-critical myself! I did the whole, "They had grown stagnant and refused to evolve with the galaxy, so they needed to be wiped out." thing because nobody had framed it explicitly as what it was: a genocide. It wasn't until a friend and I were talking and they mentioned that lens of it that it just sort of crashed down on me, oh, that's literally what it was and genocide is never justifiable. I did the whole, "The Jedi failed Anakin and taught him to repress his emotions." thing as well, because I saw it all over the place in fandom and just automatically folded it into my view, until I went back and actually watched Lucas' movies and Lucas' animation (first six movies + first six seasons of TCW) and read his interviews, which blew me onto my ass when I saw Obi-Wan being supportive of Anakin, when I saw Anakin not listening to the advice he was given, when I saw that Jedi were expressing emotion all over the place, when I saw they were respecting other Force traditions in the galaxy. I can't speak to why so many people think badly of the Jedi, there's probably a thousand reasons and I'm only vaguely aware of like half of them, but I do think that it's often unpopular to promote the idea of emotional regulation already being achieved, instead of something to be struggled with. I think we're all primed by a lot of mainstream media saying that an explosion of anger is what will save the day. I think there's so much anger in the world today that we're all angry and being told to let go of it feels really insulting at times. (But, as someone who has lost years of my life when I was younger to anger, I gotta say, I am so much better off having let go of as much of that shit as I can. It was poison in my veins, carrying that anger around. I lost so many friendships and opportunities and just time to being miserably mad about stuff.)

I'm getting off topic of the kidnapping aspect about the Jedi, but a lot of it starts to swirl together in what I've experienced (especially people who try to put this stuff on my posts--thankfully, that's died down/I block the people who won't respect boundaries) and so I kind of bounce from one aspect of it to another.

I do think it's good to talk about these things--both from "it's fun to analyze the content of the story on a meta level" perspective and "here's how this echoes into and from the real world" perspective, like I enjoy saying, okay, here's what's actually said in the movies/TCW, but also I think talking about how the Jedi are Buddhist influenced is important because that means they're going to have values that are meant to be reflected in that and Western fandom has a really big problem of being derisive about non-Western influences or automatically saying they're wrong. (I come from anime/manga fandoms, let me tell you, it's a big problem.)

And, yeah, in a way where it's really awful, but I think one of the most well-done things Disney's Star Wars has done is that it's really focused on showing that the Empire was a fascist one and the propaganda they used about the Jedi are ones that are super relevant to the conversation.