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thethief1996 · 8 months

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Israel has cut water, electricity and food to Palestinians in Gaza. They are buying 10.000 M16 rifles and plan to distribute to civilian settlers in the West Bank to hunt down Palestinians. They're bombing the only way out of Gaza through Egypt, after telling refugees to flee through it, and have threatened the Egyptian government in case they let aid trucks pass through. Entire families, generations, are being wiped out and left to wander the streets hoping they don't get bombed.

Palestinians are using their last minutes of battery to let the world know about their genocide and are being met with a wall of "What about Hamas? What about the beheaded babies? Killing children on either side is bad!" even though the propaganda claims have been debunked over and over again. How cruel is it to ask somebody to condemn themselves before their last words? Or before grieving the loss of their entire families? When there's no such disclaimer to Israelis even though their government has shown over and over genocidal intent? Like who are you even trying to appease? What will your wishy washy statement do against decades of zionist thought infiltrating evangelical and Jewish stablishmemts?

Take action. Israel will fall back if public opinion turns its tide. The UK fell back on its bloody decision to cut aid to Palestine under public scrutiny. The USAmerican empire spends $3.8 billion dollars annually solely on this proxy war while its people suffer under a progressively military regime as well. News outlets are canceling last minute on Palestinian speakers while letting Israelis tell lies unchecked. Palestinian refugees are being targeted in ICE establishments and mosques are already being hounded by the FBI. France and Germany have banned pro-Palestine protests, while Netherlands and the UK have placed restrictions . You have the chance to stop this from turning into repeat of the Iraq war.

I want to do something but there's hardly anything for me to do from Brasil besides spreading the word and not letting these testimonies fall on deaf ears. I'm asking you to do this same ant work from wherever you are.

Follow:

Eye On Palestine (instagram / twitter)

Mohammed El-Kurd (instagram / twitter)

Decolonize Palestine (website with a chronological explanation of the occupation and debunking myths)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Plestia Alaqad (directly from Gaza. Many of her videos are interrupted by bombs)

If there's a protest in your city, please attend. Here's an international calendar of events:

Friday, October 13

ALBUQUERQUE, NM (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 3 pm, UNM Bookstore, University of New Mexico. Organized by Southwest Coalition for Palestine.

BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA (US) – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, Sproul Hall (Vigil), University of California Berkeley. Organized by Bears for Palestine.

DOUAIS, FRANCE – Fri Oct 13, 6:30 pm, Place de’Armes.

GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Brunnsparken. Organized by Palestinska samordningsgruppen Gothenburg.

GREENSBORO, NC (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 4 pm, Wendover Village, 4203 W Wendover Ave, Greensboro, NC. Organized by Muslims for a Better NC.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Fri Oct 13, 5 pm, Keir Starmer’s Office, Crowndale Center, 218 Eversholt St, London. Organized by IJAN UK.

MEANJIN/BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, King George Square.

MIAMI, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Bayfront Park. Organized by Troika Kollectiv.

NAPOLI, ITALY – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Piazza Garibaldi, Napoli. Organized by GPI and Centro Culturale Handala Ali.

NGUNNAWAL/CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Carema Place.

PERTH/BOORLOO, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct. 13, 5:30 pm, Murray Street Hall, Boorloo/Perth. Organized by Friends of Palestine WA.

PORTLAND, OREGON (US) – Fri Oct 13, 3 pm, 1200-1220 SW 5th Ave, Portland.

PORT RICHEY, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 7:30 am, Route 19 and Ridge Road, Port Richey. Sponsored by: Florida Peace Action Network; Partners for Palestine; CADSI

PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA – Friday, Oct. 13, 7 pm, UP Main Campus, DSA Building opposite Thuto. Organized by PSC UP.

WITSWATERSRAND UNIVERSITY (SOUTH AFRICA) – Fri Oct 13, 1 pm, Great Hall Piazza, Flag demonstration. Organized by Wits PSC.

Saturday, October 14

ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, St. Nichlas Square. Organized by Scottish PSC.

AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Aotea Square, Queens St, 291-2997 Queen St. Organized by PSN Aotearoa.

DETROIT/DEARBORN, MICHIGAN (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Ford Woods Park, 5700 Greenfield Road. Organized by SAFE, PYM, SJP, Handala Coalition, more.

DUNDEE, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, Place TBA. Organized by Scottish PSC.

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct 14, 2 pm, Princes Street at Foot of the Mound. Organized by Scottish PSC.

FRANKFURT, GERMANY – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm Hauptwache, Frankfurt am Main. Sponsored by Palestina eV, Migrantifa Rhein-Main and more.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND – Sat. Oct 14, 2 pm, Buchanan Steps. Organized by Scottish PSC.

HOUSTON, TEXAS (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Organizd by PYM, PAC, USPCN, SJP and more.

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND – Sat Oc 14, 12 pm, Church St. Organized by FRFI.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Sat Oct 14, 12 pm, BBC Portland Place, London. Organized by a broad coalition.

MILANO, ITALY – Sat. Oct 14, 3:30 pm, Piazza San Babila. Organized by Young Palestinians of Italy, UDAP, Palestinian Community, Association of Palestinians.

ORLANDO, FLORIDA – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm, Lake Eola at Robinson and Eola, Orland. Organized by Florida Palestine Network.

TORINO, ITALY – Sat. Oct. 14, 3 pm, Piazza Crispi. Organized by Progetto Palestina.

VALPARAISO, CHILE – Sat Oct 14, 6 pm, Plaza Victoria, Valparaiso. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

WASHINGTON, DC (US) – Sat Oct 14, 1 pm, Lafayette Square. Organized by AMP.

Sunday, October 15

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, March from Dam Square to Jonas Daniel Meijer plein.

NAARM/MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, State Library Victoria.

TARDANYA/ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, Parliament House.

AUSTIN, TEXAS (US) – Sun Oct 15, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Organized by PSC ATX.

GADIGAL/SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 1 pm, Sydney Town Hall.

SANTIAGO, CHILE -Sun Oct 15, 11 am, Plaza Dignidad, Santiago. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

#save palestine #free palestine #save gaza #save sheikh jarrah #save silwan #ask to tag

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tenth-sentence · 2 months

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As part of the group, Elizabeth Tomlinson and Sarah Kirkland travelled with Ann Carr around the textile industry villages of Nottingham and Derby, before moving on to Leeds, the centre of the West Riding woollen industry.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

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gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

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So, I am begging you here, pls tell me that Ikkaku and Yumichika are still bffs on this AU. I need the violent miss- and yet perfectly matched bastards to still be forever ride-and-die with each other.

Also, all the dropped tidbits relating to Yumichika are gold and I am hoarding them like a squirrel hoards his nuts for winter.

They are actually, for real, legally married.

Ikkaku was 500% ready to fight the entire Gotei-13 when he took the 628-year old marriage certificate he and Yumichika had gotten in 72 North to the Seireitei Records Office to be honored.

Instead, the sole hiccup in the process was the young lady behind the counter asking him to spell Yumichika's surname for her as this document seems to have been... stained, at some point.

"-That's not... Blood, is it?" She asks, concerned.

"Uh. It's actually. Um. Soy Sauce." Ikkaku mumbles.

It would have been less embarrassing if it had been blood.

Turns out, Gay marriage- and indeed, divorce, or changing your name, or gender, or becoming the third, fourth or seventeenth parent/legal guardian to a kid is a nonissue in soul society, because someone complained *once* and Yamamoto declared that, one, he didn't care, and two, the rest of the military commanders were hired off death row, and *this* is what you're complaining about? Fuck off.

But here are some Yumichika Fun Facts:

Everyone in the 11th division has really, really good personal hygiene and well-cared for hands, feet and nails because Yumichika's mother was a doctor at a rural hospital and put the fear of dysentery, cholera, pneumonia, tetanus, sepsis, trench rot and necrosis into him even more than fear of the gods, and he very much continued this sanitary evangelism.

Yumichika's other mother was a drag queen at the brothel that adjoined the hospital and taught him all about hair, makeup, poisons, manners, alley fights, how to play the shamisen, how to make a knife out of anything, flower arrangement and how to curse the hell out of a motherfucker of it comes to that.

Kubo was wrong Yumichika looks out for all his sisters not just his cis-ters.

Kenpachi was friends with Yumichika before either of the ever knew Ikkaku. He met Yumichika shortly after adopting Yachiru when Yumichika saved him from drowning in the river that ran through his home village.

Kenpachi asked Yumichika what he could do in gratitude for saving his life, and Yumichika, seeing his sword, asked if Kenpachi could "give him a real fight, for once"

They had a jolly little scrap that left Yumichika in the hospital for three months, an almost insatiable lust for battle, and a permanent bald scar on the edge of his eyebrow, which is where he glues the decorative feathers he wears.

It also got him (lovingly) told to move out and make his way in the world.

Yumichika met Ikkaku some years after that, when the theater/brothel he was working at hired Ikkaku on as an Emcee and a comedy act in his own right.

Ikkaku loves making people laugh and is damn good at it.

Yumichika was already considering making a move on him when a heckler pulled a sword on Yumichika during his act and Ikkaku beat the shit out of him with a chair without a second thought, and Yumichika decided he was going to seduce and marry this bald little maniac then and there.

It still took the better part of six months, because Ikkaku was convinced that Yumichika was "Way out of his league" and "He's just being friendly to a coworker!".

Things finally became clear when, having reached a boiling point of sexual frustration, Yumichika challenged Ikkaku to a duel, beat the hell out of Ikkaku with Kujaku, and screamed his feelings directly into Ikkaku's face.

"Oh." Said Ikkaku. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I'VE BEEN SAYING THINGS AND SHOWING YOU THINGS AND SITTING IN YOUR LAP AND KISSING YOU FOR SIX MONTHS YOU FUCKING MORON."

"...I may be stupid."

"At least you're also cute. C'mere you sexy cueball."

-and they have been blissfully if dramatically wedded since.

It was many years after that that they had moved on to a different brothel as a duo floor show act, when they got to talking to some of the other working girls about their travels and Yumichika tells the story of how he got his eyebrow scar saving a real freak of a guy from drowning after he got stabbed by a river stingray, but then he challenged him to a fight because- well, he was young and cocky and a small fish, but in a tiny pond- and promptly got his ass beat.

"That's wild!" Says Ikkaku. "I also challenged a random freak with a stingray scar on his leg to a fight because I was bored and- all due respect to you and Kujaku, my beloved - but he gave me a thrashing the likes of which I'd never had before or since. He had his daughter with him was the weird part- he was a real big bastard, face like a cliff, but his girl was this adorable little pink thing."

Yumichika sits up, frowning. "-seven feet tall in socks, big vertical scar on the right side of his face?" He asked, gesturing to his own.

Ikkaku put his drink down and pointed at Yumichika "-and bells in his hair! You fought Zaraki Kenpachi too??"

"Yes! What the hell?" Yumichika laughed. "I wonder where he is now..."

"Oh Gods, he had the WORST sense of direction! He's probably managed to walk in and back out of the Soul King's palace on accident!" Ikkaku giggled

"Well, if he's the same seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and pink little girl on his shoulder as the seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and the pink little girl on his shoulder standing out in the street looking lost as hell, you can go ask him." Said their coworker Sachiko, pointing to the giant standing not a dozen feet away.

"Look Ken-chan! It's YuYu and Baldy!" Yachiru giggled.

"Yachiru!" Yumichika gasped, delighted.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" bellowed Ikkaku.

"YOU AGAIN!" Zaraki bellowed, ecstatic. " BEEN A FEW YEARS, LET'S SEE HOW MUCH YOU LEARNED!!"

Ten minutes of incredible violence, twelve minutes of evading the police and twenty-one minutes of getting lost on the way back to the brothel, a bloodied but still standing Yumichika was explaining to the Madame that the giant bastard carrying the unconscious half of her prized floor show duo behind him was, in fact, an old friend of theirs whom she should absolutely hire as a bouncer, you can see how effective he is!

Madame Tsubaki, who recognizes incredible spiritual power and fighting potential when she sees it, and who is still very petty about the divorce from her husband the Shinigami Captain-General, allows herself to be persuaded.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction #yumichika ayasegawa #ikkaku madarame #kenpachi zaraki #yachiru kusajishi

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viking-raider · 3 months

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Salt in Our Wounds - CHAPTER IV

Summary-> Gus is healing and moving about. However, nothing is sunshine around the house.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III

Warnings-> PG-13: Language, Deception, References to WWII

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“You told our father what?” Edmund barked, as you met him outside the cottage, the next morning.

You had peeked out the window for him, ever since you woke.

“Well,” You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “It was Gus that thought on his feet and told Papa that he was working with you on things around the house.” You repeat yourself, licking your lips. “We had to tell him something, when he found Gus coming out of the bathroom, after his shower.”

Edmund carded a hand through his hair and paced on the small porch. “So, you told him that Gus was a carpenter from another village, who's come over to help me put up shelves in the basement and do repairs around the cottage?”

“Yes.” You nodded, fidgeting. “What else were we to tell him, Eddie? I just opened the front door and grabbed some random man off the street, who looked as if he needed a shower?” You huffed, a tad frustrated.

“No.” He sighed, waving his hand, a tired expression coming over his face. “No, the two of you did the right thing. I suppose it's just as good an excuse to explain him to Pops than any other.” He exhaled again and stopped pacing. “Right well, is the man handy with a hammer or saw?”

“I haven't the slightest clue.”

“I'll find out.” Edmund replied, motioning you both inside and found Gus sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading his book.

Edmund looked at you with a lifted brow and you gave him a look that said, why not, since your father knew he was there, making your brother roll his eyes.

“Good morning, Edmund.” Gus greeted him, setting his book down.

“Morning.” He answered, narrowing his eyes at the other man, sitting nonchalantly at the table. “Are you ready to work today?” He asked, squaring his shoulders.

“I am.” Gus answered, taking a gulp of his coffee, unphased.

“Not before the two of you eat breakfast.” You spoke up, pulling your apron on. “So, park yourself at the table.” You ordered Edmund, pointing to the chair across from Gus, defusing the brewing cloud of male bravado.

Sighing, Edmund pulled the chair out and plopped into it, giving you a short nod as you set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him. Blowing gently on it, he stared across at Gus, who had returned to his book, but felt the other man's eyes on him and lifted a brow over the top of his page. Edmund cocked a brow back at him.

“So, Gus.” Your father called out from the sitting room, having kept his own eye on him since Gus appeared upstairs.

“Yes, sir?” Gus answered, respectfully setting his book down again and tilting slightly to the side to give Mael his attention.

“Why aren't you fighting in the War?”

“Papa!” You gasped, head jerking in his direction, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “That's rude.” You whined at him, frowning.

“It's all right.” Gus replied, smiling sweetly at you. “I don't mind.” He assured you, then looked back at Mael. “I'm a Conscientious Objector, being Evangelical.” He explained to him, causally.

Mael stared at Gus for a long while, fluttering and tapping the pencil between his fingers against his map. The sizzle of hotcake batter on the red-hot griddle and the bubble of the percolator on the counter filling the quiet space, as no one spoke. Finally, Edmund grunted, shrugging his shoulders and taking another sip of his coffee, putting the atmosphere back into some reasonable balance.

“At least, he's not a deserter or a Nazi.” Edmund commented, putting his coffee cup down and picking up the newspaper you'd set on the table.

“Exactly.” You trumpeted, nodding your head, a tingle of relief running through you, turning back to the griddle to flip the hotcakes. “How many cakes do you want, Papa?” You asked, shoveling the steaming rounds onto a serving plate.

“Three, Peanut.” He answered, still tapping his pencil, but his eyes had shifted to the uneven hardwood floor.

Nodding, you shifted three over onto his plate, before taking up a knife and cutting another in half, adding one half with his three, knowing sometimes three weren't enough, but four could be too much for him.

“Boys?” You called over your shoulder, cracking an egg onto the griddle, beside the two fresh pools of batter.

“Four, please.” Gus chimed, turning a page.

“Same.” Edmund replied, squinting at the small print of the article he was trying to read.

Humming to yourself, you finished cooking up the batter and made everyone an egg, before doling out plates. Everyone had just dug in, when a knock sounded on the door. You and Edmund tensed, eyeing each other, a silent conversation going between you.

“Don't be rude!” Mael huffed around a mouthful of food.

Sighing, you stood up and answered it, finding Dr. Tremblay on your doorstep, black bag in hand, a flood of relief washing over you.

“Oh! Good morning, Dr. Tremblay.” You greeted him, glancing behind you to Gus and Edmund.

“Good morning, mon chéri.” Tremblay smiled at you, kissing your cheek and glancing into the house and spotting Gus at the table, enjoying his breakfast. “I see my patient is feeling better.” He commented, lifting a bushy white brow.

“He is.” You nodded, stepping to the side. “Please, come in. Would you like some coffee or tea?” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

“Tea would be nice, oui.” Dr. Tremblay answered, setting his bag on the table.

Edmund looked at the respected senior and cocked a brow over his shoulder to his father, hoping to indicate not speaking of Gus's injury and real purpose in the house. Tremblay returned a squinty eyed glare, just as you set down his cup of tea, making you chuckle at the two of them.

“What's brought you over so early, Sacha?” Mael asked, forking a hotcake into his mouth, but his eyes were cast over the table.

“Oh,” Tremblay waved his hand dismissively, before reaching out for the sugar pot in the center of the table, dropping two granular, ivory cubes into his teacup. “I came to check up on Edmund.” He replied, looking at your brother with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Heard from Thom that he might need a new pair of glasses. So, I've come to take some measurements.” He said, patting his bag, still sitting on the table.

“You didn't mention anything about that, Ed.” Your father croaked, looking a bit alarmed.

“I didn't want to burden you with it, Pops.” Edmund answered, squeezing the handle of his fork. “No worries though. Doc has it under control.” He grunted, eyes shifting over to Gus.

Everyone finished their breakfast and Edmund showed Tremblay upstairs, under the guise of looking at his eyes in privacy, while Gus excused himself to the bathroom, following the two of them upstairs. You fret a little bit, picking up the dishes from the table and putting them in the sink, the feeling anxious of not knowing if Gus's wound was healing right or if he needed the antibiotics anymore. You wanted to go upstairs and join them. But knew if you did, your father would likely get more suspicious.

“Are we going to take our usual Sunday afternoon stroll around the garden today, Papa?” You asked, putting a plate on the drying rack.

“I'll see how I feel come time, Peanut.” Mael replied, leaning against the arm of his chair to catch every word the radio presenter was saying.

Nodding, you pulled out the mop bucket and carried it out to the garden, using the garden hose to fill it. Leaning against the wall beside the door, you looked up at the morning sky, steely with angry looking, iron-gray clouds drifting by overhead. You drew in a deep breath, filling your nostrils with the cool and salty scent of the sea, but it also had the faint snap of the ozone, the possible threat of chubby raindrops.

“Well, it looks like my nurse took excellent care of me.” Gus's voice chimed in your ear, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Your wound is all right?” You asked, casting your eyes up to his.

“Yes, ma'am.” He smiled, filling the doorway. “Healing nicely and should have the stitches out in no time.” He assured you, lifting his jumper a little to show you. “I also don't need any more shots! Which I am thankful for!” He chuckled, but looked at you quickly. “Not that you weren't good at administering them!”

“Oh no!” You giggled, cheeks warm with embarrassment and relief. “I'm just as glad as you are! I would have much preferred Dr. Tremblay make you take the antibiotic by mouth! The idea of sticking you, or anyone, with a needle is frightening. I'm surprised I didn't wound you further in the process.”

Gus smirked, glancing down at his boots. “I doubt you could have. I have thighs the size of tree trunks.” He remarked, biting his lip for a moment. “Your bucket!” He gasped, catching sight of the water spilling over the side.

“Oh shoot!” You snapped, twisting the nozzle off and letting out a sigh.

“I'm sorry, I distracted you.” Gus apologized, watching you tip the bucket slightly to let out the excess water.

“It's all right. I should have been paying attention.” You shrugged, grabbing the handle.

“Here, I'll carry it in for you.” He offered, replacing your hand with his at the handle.

You brushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear and watched him take it inside, before shaking your head, as if to snap yourself out of something, and followed him back inside. “You can put it right there.” You instructed him, going under the sink to grab the bottle of fairy liquid. “Are you going to help my brother?” You asked in a hushed voice, pouring some of the washing up solution in the water, while glancing over at your father, who had dozed off.

“I don't know.” Gus replied, a crease forming between his brows. “I'm not sure your brother is too fond of me.”

“Edmund is...” You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. “Edmund tends to be guarded. Many relationships in his life haven't panned out. With our mother leaving us and his wife—well, Willa has big dreams. She feels have been held back and blames him for that, by keeping them here in Saint-Thurney. So, sometimes, even when he does like someone, he gives them the cold shoulder.”

“He's waiting for the boot to drop.” He nodded, understanding.

“Exactly.” You hummed, grabbing the mop and dripping it into the soapy bucket. “Now, you need to skitter off my kitchen floor, so I can wash it.” You ordered, shooing him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Gus laughed, swiping his book off the kitchen table, gave you a grinning salute and made for the basement, casting one more look back at you, smirking as you started scrubbing the floor. “Do you want any help?” He asked, finding Edmund framing up the shelves against the cellar wall.

Edmund paused, a nail clamped between his lips, bracing his elbow against the board he was nailing, he took the one out of his mouth, answering. “Are you any good at building things?”

“I find my way around a saw, hammer and a nail.” Gus replied, looking around at Edmund's spread-out supplies. “Just tell me what you want done with them.”

“All right.” Edmund nodded, cocking a brow at him. “I need a few more boards cut. I already have them marked to length. You can do that for me.”

“Sure thing, Captain.” Gus replied, going into his makeshift room to set his book down. “What?” He asked the other man's look, lifting one of the pre-marked boards onto the sawhorses, finding the pencil measurements and grabbing the saw that rested against the leg beside him.

“Don't call me that.” Edmund growled, an angry glare in his eyes.

Gus held his gaze for a moment, a faint smirk on his lips. “My apologies.”

The two of them nodded at each other, then turned back to their work.

There was no afternoon walk to be had, the dark clouds from that morning broke open and saturated everything outside, shutting in the residents of Saint-Thurney. Your father continued to doze in his chair, unbothered by the weather pattering the roof like a percussion symphony. Gus and Edmund were still down in the basement, hard at work, coming up periodically for bathroom breaks and refreshments, and you sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and getting lost in the world of Oliver Twist.

You paused, bringing your teacup to your lips and cast your eyes to the window by the door, sure you had heard something outside, above the rain and carpentry. But saw nothing and shrugged, taking your sip and set the cup down, returning to your sentence. However, a few moments later, you swore you heard it again; putting you on edge.

“Edmund!” You called out, slowly setting your book down, the hairs at the back of your neck began to stand up. You gasped, seeing three men flash by the window. “Edmund!” You shouted, startling your father awake, his eyes wide with panicked alarm.

A thunder of furious pounding sounded on the front door accompanied Edmund and Gus's boots stomping up the basement stairs, frantic and confused. You had rushed over to your father, in an attempt to calm him before he slipped into an episode of shock.

“It's the Patrol!” You cried, rubbing your father's back, eyes trained on the vibrating door, a stream of German demands now being shouted with their banging, mixed with accented French and English.

“Damn my eyes.” Edmund growled, gritting his teeth. “They must be doing random searches, thinking they can catch everyone inside with the weather.” He huffed, wiping at his sweaty brow and glancing at Gus, who seemed startling calm, but tense.

“We have to let them in!” You urged your brother, not liking how angry the Patrol sounded and knowing the longer you waited, the worse it would be.

“I know!” Edmund barked sharply, the gears in his brain spinning for a split second longer, before he took a long step forward and yanked the door open. “What's the meaning of this!? Are you trying to wake the dead?” He demanded, looking the three German Patrol officers over, the Sturmführer was red faced, and all of them were dripping from being forced to wait so long in the rain, for an answer.

“Inspections!” He snapped in Edmund's face, a small bit of spit hanging from his bottom lip.

“Yes, fine!” Edmund replied, rolling his eyes and shoving the door open.

No one moved as the three officers entered the cozy cottage. Your hand shook as it rested on your father's shoulder, periodically massaging it when you felt him tremble, still on the edge of a possible attack from his Shell Shock. Edmund eyed them from his place by the door, sweaty hands clenched into fists as he watched them conduct their inspections. More like a path of intrusive destruction. They yanked books off shelves, opened cabinets and tossed out their contents, pushed over furniture for amusement.

Even nicked things, when they thought the owners weren't looking.

Mael leaned forward slightly, mumbling to himself, causing you to frown. You tried to kneel down to bring your ear close to his mouth and listen to what he was saying, worried for him, but were stopped by one of the officers. He grabbed you roughly by the arm and yanked you up, barking something at you in German that you didn't understand.

“Please, he's not well!” You protested, tugging against him, desperate to care for your father before he slipped too far.

“Nein, bleib, Hexe!” He barked at you, making you cry out, his grasp tightening.

Before Edmund could blink, Gus was halfway across the kitchen, trained on the German holding you, like a bull seeing red. Snarling, with nostrils flaring, Gus twisted his fist in the officer's uniform and yanked them together. Forcing the other man up onto the tip-toes of his black polished boots in the process.

“Let her go!” He barked, giving him a good shake, for effect.

Startled, he let go, you tumbled to the floor at their feet, and rubbed at the burning handprint that was left behind. The air in the cottage thickened dramatically. One of the officer's comrades came rushing in from the garden, hearing the commotion, and fumbled for his sidearm. While their leader came flying downstairs.

“What is this!” The commanding officer demanded, glaring at Gus as he continued to hold his subordinate. “Put my officer down! At once!” He ordered, when Gus didn't move, showing no fear or reluctance towards the three of them, unlike you, Edmund or your father. “Who is this man?” He barked, looking between your brother and father.

“Answer me, at once!” He screamed, face turning red again. “Or I'll have him shot!”

“No!” You cried out, frightened. “Gus, let him go!” You begged him, pulling on his pant leg, desperately. “I'm fine, please!”

“Answer!” The officer growled at the lot of you, his limited patience wearing thin. “Oswin!” He hissed at his officer, who was now pointing his Walther p38 at Gus. “Shoot him!” He ordered, with a hard jerk of his head.

“He's my sister's fiancé!” Edmund blurted out, as Oswin pulled the pistol's slide back, his eyes wild in the heat of the moment, before collecting himself and saying more calmly. “He's just my sister's fiancé.” He gulped, meeting your eye as you looked up at him, stunned, and caught off guard by the omission.

“What man wouldn't protect his betrothed?” He asked the Storm Leader, moving his eyes to Gus.

“A lesser man.” Gus replied, taking the cue, then looked at the commanding officer. “And I'm not a lesser man, to have your filthy runt put his hands on my girl.” He growled, shoving the man away.

“Why have we not seen you before?” He demanded, looking Gus over.

“He was serving, but just returned home, after being wounded.” You explained to him, looking up at Gus. It was the easiest bit of information to give, for them to believe, Gus could show them his wound.

“Is that so?” The officer asked, cocking a brow.

“It is.” Gus answered, pulling up his jumper to show them his bullet wound. “I was wounded in Belgium and discharged. So, I came here to be with her and recover.”

“Can anyone other than those here confirm your story?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the lot of you.

“Yes.” Edmund chimed in, feeling like the situation was on decent grounds. “Dr. Sacha Tremblay. He's been doctoring his wound since he's been back.”

“I will be checking and informing the Director General.” The Storm Leader warned the three of you, and the look in his eyes hinted at his misgiving, waiting for one of you to crack.

“Very well.” Edmund answered, his tone bland, shrugging one shoulder.

The senior officer stared the three of you down for a second longer, before looking to his men, inquiring in German if they had found anything. But the two replied in the negative. There was no contraband or anything that could get any of you in trouble as collaborators to the French Resistance or Allied Powers. Despite Gus standing right there in front of them, plain as day.

Whether they knew that or thought they had enough evidence to take you in, was another story entirely.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #Salt in Our Wound #Salt in Our Wound *fic*#gus march phillips #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare #Gus/Reader #Gus & Reader #Gus x Reader #Gus March Phillips x Reader #Gus March Phillips & Reader #gus march Phillips x you #gus march phillips/You #Fluff #hurt/comfort #viking-raider fics #WWII #wwii era

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jammed-out · 3 months

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“Yesss she isss pretty. But why can we not jussst eat her.”

“She issss from the village over there. She could sssserve ussss.”

Evangel could hear the voices bickering over her head but she just stood there in her torn dress, staring blankly at a tree. The colors danced over her eyes fading by the second. Everything seemed so unfamiliar to her.

She slowly began to raise her hands towards her eyes. If she could just rub them she could clear the fog in her head.

“Hush now pretty thing..” a pair of scaly hands wrapped around her wrists holding them just above her shoulders. “Jusssst look into my eyesss. Sssseee how pretty they are?”

Evangel stared into the spinning colors. They wrapped around her mind, ensnaring her once more. Her jaw fell open as she slowly leaned forward, her shoulders falling limply as the tension left her body.

“You will sssserve usss.” A voice said behind her.

“You will do asss we ssssay.”

Evangel felt her mouth move slowly. “Do as you say.”

“Your mind isssss ourssss.”

“My mind is yours….” As she said it, she knew it was true. The words tangled with the bright colors. Wrapping themselves around her mind.

Evangel felt herself straighten up, standing upright. Her purpose made clear. “How may I serve you.”

#brainwashing #hypnosis #mind control #hypnotism #mind conditioning #my writings

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gatheringbones · 2 years

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[“But if French assessments of the character of ‘savages’ tended to be decidedly mixed, the indigenous assessment of French character was distinctly less so. Father Pierre Biard, for example, was a former theology professor assigned in 1608 to evangelize the Algonkian-speaking Mi’kmaq in Nova Scotia, who had lived for some time next to a French fort.

Biard did not think much of the Mi’kmaq, but reported that the feeling was mutual: ‘They consider themselves better than the French: “For,” they say, “you are always fighting and quarrelling among yourselves; we live peaceably. You are envious and are all the time slandering each other; you are thieves and deceivers; you are covetous, and are neither generous nor kind; as for us, if we have a morsel of bread we share it with our neighbour.” They are saying these and like things continually.’

What seemed to irritate Biard the most was that the Mi’kmaq would constantly assert that they were, as a result, ‘richer’ than the French. The French had more material possessions, the Mi’kmaq conceded; but they had other, greater assets: ease, comfort and time. Twenty years later Brother Gabriel Sagard, a Recollect Friar, wrote similar things of the Wendat nation.

Sagard was at first highly critical of Wendat life, which he described as inherently sinful (he was obsessed with the idea that Wendat women were all intent on seducing him), but by the end of his sojourn he had come to the conclusion their social arrangements were in many ways superior to those at home in France. In the following passages he was clearly echoing Wendat opinion: ‘They have no lawsuits and take little pains to acquire the goods of this life, for which we Christians torment ourselves so much, and for our excessive and insatiable greed in acquiring them we are justly and with reason reproved by their quiet life and tranquil dispositions.’

Much like Biard’s Mi’kmaq, the Wendat were particularly offended by the French lack of generosity to one another: ‘They reciprocate hospitality and give such assistance to one another that the necessities of all are provided for without there being any indigent beggar in their towns and villages; and they considered it a very bad thing when they heard it said that there were in France a great many of these needy beggars, and thought that this was for lack of charity in us, and blamed us for it severely.’

Wendat cast a similarly jaundiced eye at French habits of conversation. Sagard was surprised and impressed by his hosts’ eloquence and powers of reasoned argument, skills honed by near-daily public discussions of communal affairs; his hosts, in contrast, when they did get to see a group of Frenchmen gathered together, often remarked on the way they seemed to be constantly scrambling over each other and cutting each other off in conversation, employing weak arguments, and overall (or so the subtext seemed to be) not showing themselves to be particularly bright. People who tried to grab the stage, denying others the means to present their arguments, were acting in much the same way as those who grabbed the material means of subsistence and refused to share it; it is hard to avoid the impression that Americans saw the French as existing in a kind of Hobbesian state of ‘war of all against all’.”]

david graeber and david wengrow, the dawn of everything: a new history of humanity, 2021

#david graeber #history stuff #currently reading

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filmnoirsbian · 1 year

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Things read & watched in February

Articles & Essays:

I’m Willing To Throw People Under The Bus If It Means Pretending To Relive My Childhood

Reading is precious--which is why I've been giving away my books

In the shallow world of BookTok, being ‘a reader’ is more important than actually reading

My Book Blew Up on Instagram. Why isn't TikTok for Me?

Before Nirvana or Pearl Jam, there was Tina Bell, the godmother of grunge.

Anthony Bourdain's Last Interview

Fugging hell: tired of mockery, Austrian village changes name

Why I Was Never A Riot Grrrl

My Insider Experience as a Seatfiller at the Grammys

“Jackass” Made Me the Trans Woman I Am

The Essential Judy Blume

Fall of the Progressive Boy King

Creatures That Don't Conform

An Interview with Franny Choi

Our Enduring LGBTQ Symbols

World's First Anime AMV Creator Has Passed Away

This Is What Netflix Thinks Your Family Is

The article removed from Forbes, “Why White Evangelicalism Is So Cruel”

Why Do We Let “Genius” Directors Get Away With Abusive Behavior?

Colour & Shape: Using Computer Vision to Explore the Science Museum Group Collection

Poetry:

Edge of the Wild by Leah Umansky

A DEATH MASK IS A WAY TO PERPETUATE THE TRANSITORY by Chuck Carlise

Song For The Old Ones by Maya Angelou

People by D. H. Lawrence

Rain, First Morning by Joanna Klink

The Almost Love Poem of Eloise and Kofi by Brian Gyamfi

Let Him Rest by George Abraham

Two Shabbats with Paul Celan by Miller Oberman

Flesh by Deborah Landau

Harold Norse says, “Poetry meant being a sissy and worse. A fairy. A friend of mine once asked me why all poets were fairies. Well, I answered, that’s because they can fly.” by Tyler Raso

Books:

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Reading 'Lolita' in Tehran by Azar Nafisi

Devotions by Mary Oliver

Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente

Films:

#tcp #an open window #articles #essays #poetry

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brainrockets · 10 months

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Some of the Suvi critics out there are... something. I mean, I get it if you don't enjoy media because of unpleasantness. I very definitely avoided Succession because it squicked me deeply.

So if Suvi squicks ya out. Like sure fine. But some of the interpretations of Suvi being irredeemable or 'not showing signs' that she might be 'redeemable' are just weird? To me?

I mean. I also was raised in one of the cristofascist American evangelical death cults and had to deprogram and unlearn a lot in my 20s and have done a lot of work to be in a healthy space now so... maybe I just have sympathy for being 20 and just suddenly seeing cracks appear in the way you understand yourself and the world around you?

One thing people seem real perturbed by is Suvi's behavior towards Ame (and Ame's seeming lack of correction of that behavior).

And I think there are a few things at play here.

1. Suvi was raised in a highly ordered hierarchy as a soldier from early childhood.

2. Ame is a witch of the heart and has been handling all manner of village nonsense and nonsense people for years.

3. Suvi has not had ANY sort of psychological safety or release since maybe the Cottage. She is more afraid of Steel than Orima.

4. Ame is worried about Suvi. Worried about the way she killed without trouble. The way she's not allowed herself to express feelings for the most part other than anger.

5. When you have a lot of feelings and no safe way to let them out. They still come out. Usually inappropriately. Often paradoxically they get vented on people you feel safe with. Not to say that's acceptable or good but it is pretty normal?

6. Paradoxically, while Ame is safe to be mad at, perhaps subconsciously, Suvi also views Ame as a threat. And she's not wrong. Ame is a huge threat to her. Ame threatens to upend everything that Suvi believes about herself, about magic, about her world. She also plays by different rules and has actively exposed Suvi to risk by divulging things Suvi wanted to keep private. (Not with malice but definitely flagrantly flouting basic rules because she doesn't know they exist.) She also is a threat to the defenses Suvi has built around herself in the wake of her parents' deaths. The way that she has used the notion of the Citadel's correctness as a shield against the pain of loss.

7. I think Ame has dealt with wounded animals and wounded people fairly regularly in her role as apprentice. I think that Ame knows that wounded creatures snap at someone even if they are trying to help. Snapping back at her isn't maybe the move right now. And she has expressed dissent, she's not leaving her nonsense totally alone. She's just carefully cutting away little pieces of net and tutting at her raging and getting a little closer each time. And when Suvi finally lets herself cry instead of rage, Ame reacts with the same patient care she'd use with an injured animal.

8. Also, i do think people are missing Suvi's actions behind her words. Particularly vis a vis redeemable qualities. She does talk mad shit and she says some truly terrible things. But her actions are in conflict with her words. She abandoned her training and her responsibility to help Ame break her curse. He outfitted her friends from the armory and rented out a whole floor of an inn just to be kind. She's kept silent on Honored Friends the entire time she's been at the Citadel. Steel told her to stay and wait but she ran after Ame anyways. She was making a lot of threats but now that Eursulon has promised to free the Great Spirit her only issue with helping do it is that Steel might kill her first. She is ready to throw down for her friends with extreme prejudice.

She's at a crossroads. I find it very hopeful. But like again, I relate pretty heavily to being young and afraid and angry as the world opens up before you and everything you thought you knew is wrong and harming people. Knowing there's a chasm and on one side is your family and your community and on the other side is the unknown and your friends.

#long post #wbn pod #suvi #worlds beyond number #aabria iyengar

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trekwiz · 5 months

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It strikes me that there are 2 different (modern) Israels, and in the US and Europe, we're only really taught about one of them.

You might know this one: in 1947, the UN adopted a partition plan to create Israel. This was intended as reparations for the holocaust--but mysteriously, would not be comprised of land from the perpetrators, the Axis powers. Wikipedia has a good primer:

Here's the important thing to know: that Israel doesn't exist. The plan was never implemented. It would have required that Palestinians give up the majority of their land to create a new country, despite having an overwhelming majority of the population in the territory. Mass theft and expulsion was not reasonable. Palestinians boycotted the talks. Ultimately this country never came into existence; a massive terrorist attack left it moot.

There's a second Israel that has its origins in the 1840's. British Evangelical Christians came up with the idea that Jewish people should be shipped off to Palestine to bring about the second coming. Yes, it's as antisemitic as it sounds. You can read a primer on Wikipedia here:

In 1914, the British promised to liberate Palestine and return it to Palestinian rule in return for military support against the Ottomans. They didn't uphold their end of the deal (no surprise), and opted to manufacture a conflict: in 1917, they promised to create a Jewish homeland, and encouraged Zionist immigration specifically, to strengthen their "peacekeeping" claim to the territory. (Differentiation: Zionists are those who specifically support a Jewish ethnostate on Palestinian territory; one does not have to be Jewish to be a Zionist, and not all Jews are Zionist.)

In 1936, the Palestinians fought back against the British, who still hadn't kept their promise to free Palestine. Unlike the American revolution, Palestinians lost. If you're starting to think this sounds a lot like how Britain treated India, you're not far off.

In 1938, Britain decided to take steps to honor its promise to free Palestine. This spurred escalations from multiple Zionist terrorist organizations: comprised of foreigners who believed they had a greater right to the land than the locals, Haganah, Irgun, and Lehi coordinated against the British and Palestinians.

Haganah formed earlier, in the 1920s, and originally worked with the British to prevent Palestinian liberation. They were eventually armed by Poland.

Irgun was an internationally recognized (including by the US) terrorist organization. They're known for a particularly heinous bombing:

They worked with Haganah to plan it, and you may recognize a specific tactic they used: a phone call to "warn" their victims in advance.

They formed because they believed armed force should be used to prevent Palestinian freedom, and allow Zionists to secure a future country. Their whole cause for existence was to suppress Arabs and make them compliant.

They explicitly believed that terrorism was a necessary tactic to steal Palestinian land for their own benefit.

Lehi is an offshoot of Irgun that described itself as a terrorist organization. It's important to understand that this organization also explicitly wanted to ally itself with Axis powers, specifically Nazi Germany and Italy. Their goal was to create a totalitarian Jewish ethnostate that would operate by the same values that Nazis held.

This all came to a head in 1948. Britain basically said, "fuck it, we created this mess, but we're not going to fix it." They pulled out of Palestine, without making good on their promise to free it.

The Zionist terrorist organizations banded together for one large terrorist attack after the British left: they massacred Palestinians in multiple hundreds of villages and forced them out of the territory--including the use of bio-terrorism to ensure they wouldn't return:

In the aftermath, these terrorist organizations decided to cosplay as a country, now going by the name Israel. Under this new name, these organizations worked together to destroy evidence of their 1948 terrorist attacks.

It's worth mentioning as well, that Israel continues to honor its component terrorist organizations; it still has a military service ribbon named for Lehi--the organization that literally wanted to pal around with Hitler.

Despite the merger and name change, these terrorist organizations have never ceased their violent attacks against the Palestinian people. They regularly escalate the ongoing ethnic cleansing any time they can create an excuse. They were slaughtering Palestinians on a regular basis, even before Israel's October 7 escalation.

Palestine remains oppressed by a terrorist entity that US and European governments are funding and arming.

The only reason you haven't heard about this Israel is because the US government has a vested interest in propaganda that portrays them as a legitimate country: they serve as a military presence for us in the mid-east.

You already know why our government lied about WMDs as a pretext for war against Iraq and Afghanistan; it shouldn't be a surprise that our government has the same motivation for maintaining ties with a terrorist organization operating in the same region, seemingly tied to our interests.

Americans and Europeans: you should be questioning this propaganda and advocating for the Palestinian victims of genocide: your tax dollars are funding terrorism. When you decide "it's too complicated, I don't know enough to have an opinion" or "both sides engage in violence so I'll just equivocate", then you're helping to normalize these atrocities. You're making it easier to spread propaganda in favor of arming and funding Israeli terrorism.

You should speak up in favor of a one state solution, led by Palestinians. The history of these Zionist terrorist organizations makes it clear that this is the only way for there to be justice. The leaders of the Zionist entity should be brought to trial, and Israel permanently disbanded.

#Israel

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sisterdivinium · 10 months

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Warrior Nun truly is the most fucked up fucking show in the whole fucking world isn't it

Thecla (Ancient Greek: Θέκλα, Thékla; Greek: Θέκλα; Turkish: Tekla) was a saint of the early Christian Church, and a reported follower of Paul the Apostle. The earliest record of her life comes from the ancient apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla.

In one scene, female beasts, particularly lionesses, protected her against her male aggressors.

It is also said that Thecla spent the rest of her life in Maaloula, a village in Syria. There, she became a healer and performed many miracles...

...but remained constantly persecuted.

In one instance, as her persecutors were about to get to her, she called out to God, a new passage was opened in the cave she was in, and the stones closed behind her.

Around AD 280, Thecla features as one of the characters in Methodius of Olympus' Symposium, in which she displays considerable knowledge of profane philosophy, various branches of literature, and eloquent yet modest discourse. Methodius states that she received her instruction in divine and evangelical knowledge from Paul, and was eminent for her skill in sacred science ("Logos 8").

According to some scholars, Thecla's story inspired many later stories of women saints who dressed as men

All of these women were empowered by Thecla, a woman who did things that not many women would ever dare to do

In Spanish-speaking countries, she is also facetiously counted as the patron saint of computers and Internet, from the homophony with the Spanish and Catalan word tecla ("key").[citation needed]

(text on Thecla of Iconium taken from Wikipedia)

#jillian salvius #warrior nun #thekla reuten #I'M NOT SAYING THIS MEANS ANYTHING I'M JUST SAYING #[insert i'm not saying it's aliens but it's aliens meme here lol]#the craziest thing about it is that i wasn't looking for it. i was reading on tiepolo #as in yes art history. then a painting about a st thecla showed up in the text and it all snowballed from there #you have to admit that some of these parallels (or quasi-parallels anyway) between jillian and st thecla are... uncanny #funny and or misc #no i am not putting this in my analysis tags because this is for the lols (or is it)#editing this to add in the tags that sylvia de fanti is a leo #so a lioness in her own right so to speak. when lionesses were the ones to protect st thecla #i mean if you really want to fuck it up... thekla is a virgo. jillian as a VIRGIN MARY figure anyone...?#if we're gonna mix up real life and fiction might as well do it in style huh #this fucking show sdkljfghsdkjghkjsg #OKAY FINE I AM PUTTING IT IN MY PERSONAL ANALYSIS TAG #exercises in observation

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theapostlesnigeria · 3 days

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THE BEGINNING MARKS THE END

“Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people.” – Genesis 25:8. And here comes the end of a great Walk with God. No matter how beautiful, sweet and long, the end is always in sight – it has already started. Friend, you don’t have an unlimited time to Walk with God on this earth. So judiciously make use of the limited…

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#African Villages #Northern Nigeria #The Apostles Nigeria #Village Evangelism

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mapsontheweb · 8 months

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Number of Spanish Missions in California and Baja California by county/municipality

by mexidominicarican8

<div class="md">California: The Spanish missions in California formed a series religious outposts or missions established between 1769 and 1833 in what is now the U.S. state of California. The missions were established by Catholic priests of the Franciscan order to evangelize Indigenous peoples backed by the military force of the Spanish Empire. Civilian settlers and soldiers accompanied missionaries and formed settlements like the Pueblo de Los Ángeles. Indigenous peoples were forced into settlements called reductions, disrupting their traditional way of life and negatively affecting as many as one thousand villages Baja California: The Spanish missions in Baja California were a large number of religious outposts established by Catholic religious orders, the Jesuits, the Franciscans and the Dominicans, between 1683 and 1834 to spread the Christian doctrine among the Indigenous peoples living on the Baja California peninsula. The missions gave Spain a valuable toehold in the frontier land, and introduced European livestock, fruits, vegetables, and industry into the region. Indigenous peoples were severely impacted by the introduction of European diseases such as smallpox and measles and by 1800 their numbers were a fraction of what they had been before the arrival of the Spanish. Mexico: The First Mexican Republic secularized the missions with the Mexican secularization act of 1833, which emancipated indigenous peoples from the missions. Mission lands were largely given to settlers and soldiers, along with a minority of indigenous people. Most of the missions in Baja California were abandoned and are currently in ruins. Cities like Loreto, Mulegé, La Paz, and San José del Cabo were formed near/around Spanish missions USA: Many of these missions were restored in the mid 20th century. They have become a symbol of California, appearing in many movies and television shows, and are an inspiration for Mission Revival architecture. Concerns have been raised by historians and Indigenous peoples of California about the way the mission period in California is taught in educational institutions and memorialized. The oldest European settlements of California were formed around or near Spanish missions, including the four largest: Los Angeles, San Diego, San Jose, and San Francisco. </div>

#maps #mexidominicarican8

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alexilulu · 2 months

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Books I Read in 2024, #6: Runequest: Roleplaying in Glorantha (Greg Stafford Steve Perrin Jeff Richard Jason Durall and friends, Chaosium Inc., 2019)

A bronze age-styled fantasy epic setting originally published in 1975 (as White Bear and Red Moon), Glorantha is one of the founding touchstones of fantasy storytelling in the RPG space that draws upon historiography and a firm integration of magic and mysticism into the firmament of its setting.

My first experience with Glorantha, like a great deal of others, was King of Dragon Pass. I don't remember exactly where I first heard about it. It's either on SA in the LP subforum back in the early 2010s or Tumblr in the same era; if it's the latter, Jared is entirely to blame for this, and probably because of him telling me stories about it in my car over the years.

King of Dragon Pass is a management game in which you play the tribal leader of a Heortling group exiled from their homeland in the wake of Belintar's accession to the throne in the Holy Country of Esrolia, forced to travel to the forbidden land of Dragon Pass where centuries ago the Dragonkill War wiped the land clean of all human presence. For you see, the Dragonkill War was named not for what we did to the dragons, but what dragons did to humanity.

Glorantha is like that.

Glorantha sticks in my mind easily, to be honest. It draws such a stark picture of itself so quickly you can't help but feel arrested by how committed it is to being itself. The Gods are so real that reenacting their greatest deeds invests you with their awe-inspiring power, and the Runes they wield are so bound into the fundament that embodying and studying them allows you to manipulate reality directly yourself.

The game itself is straightforward; every skill is rated from 0 to 100, and you roll 2d10 to roll under your skill rating, which you can further influence by channeling your passions or the Runes that represent you. Its character creation is delightfully baroque and fitting with the focus on historiography: you roll to generate the general lifepath of your parents and your own history in the last 21 years of Dragon Pass' history, during an eventful lead-up to the Hero Wars starting in 1625 when the world will enter a true tumult as empires face off.

I really just love the little things about the world here. Glorantha is detailed in the way that only a seasoned reader of history would be, with a light touch to give you plenty of room to imagine your own tribes in the region, the foibles of each village that give it real texture. The book grounds you in the idea of being from each ethnic group, the stereotypes others hold for them and the realities of their lives.

More than once it states that the Orlanthi recognize 6 gender roles and 7 forms of marriage, which is both a refreshing acknowledgement and also just a good reminder that societies for centuries have seen things in ways that would be foreign to the modern reader, and that you have to think of these societies in the context they've been shaped by.

The various pantheons of the world rule. I could evangelize about Orlanth, the god of storms all day, but it rules that the chief god of the largest and best-known pantheon, the Lightbringers, is the god of the season of utter disaster where life becomes cheap and dangerous, which i suppose makes sense as far as who you would beg to for survival during.

It's combat is dangerously swingy, in a way that kind of rules, in that you can plan for a lot of bad things to happen but you really can't stop that 5% roll from putting a javelin through your soft palate. This is your granddaddy's RPG, there's no luck recovery methods. You die, you beg the local priest for a resurrection and pay him handsomely for the privilege and don't do that shit again.

It just sticks in the mind for me. Very few other RPGs take the sort of careful, historically and culturally-focused bent on producing and placing a world in the way that Glorantha does. It feels lived in and loved, with a clear idea of itself and what it wants to be. I wish I could say the same for more games in the space.

#Alexis Reads Books 2024

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nicosraf · 9 months

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You liked a Tweet about saying how wanting to dismantle the Christofacist System is genocide. Xtianity is and always has been genocidal to people like me you bigot. You can hide behind your book being Queer but we know

I wasn't going to respond because I'm still not convinced you're being sincere, but I'll be sincere! I can't find the tweet I liked, but I remember it, I think. This is the last time I'm going to respond to you. But I do hope you read this.

On Twitter, someone shared that a Tiktok user supposedly dreamed that all the Christians were taken away in a Rapture and the world became a better place. Someone quoted that tweet saying that wishing an entire religion was gone was a fascist/genocidal position, which it is! Even if the religion is awful, it's genocidal to want a group of people dead, you know, for what they believe. It's just the definition of the word. Don't be afraid of it.

I'm really fascinated by your use of "people like me" and "we know." Why do you think I'm not like you? You don't know anything about me. I don't know anything about you. I could ask, but you could lie, so I won't. I know that you know yourself though. So, why aren't I like you? And who is we? You are you in community with?

Is that community stronger than the one you hold with me? If it is, why?

Do you think I'm a Christian? I've never said I am. I've never talked about my beliefs. And I won't because they're personal to me.

"Genocidal to people like me" - I keep coming back to this. You know, I really know genocide. I worked as a reporting fellow, and I met a journalist from Kashmir that wrote about the ethnic cleansing conflict. We had a good discussion making comparisons between the militarization occurring there and with the displaced people I was working with at the time along the Mexico-America border. I've seen genocide. I'm familiar with the de-humanization, the treatment like your people are dirty and need to be kept out and eradicated.

In Mexico, priests are murdered a lot. Sometimes it's really violent. Dismemberments and hangings and all that. It's really dangerous to be a priest in Mexico, but in some communities, they run the migrant homes, argue with paramilitaries. You ask, "Why are you doing this?" And they'll say it's their faith, it's why they became a priest. They believe in goodness.

I knew a priest who was threatened by organized crime. They told him to hand over the Cubans in his care. He said he wouldn't. And then he was "disappeared", and it's been 2 years now. We'll probably never find him. I can still see him really vividly in my head. His glasses, his hands clasped together.

At the same time, my poor Mexico has only adopted Christianity through genocide, right? I've written about that too. The Franciscans and the children of the noble Nahua-indigenous people who worked together to destroy the indigenous religion; they ran into the villages and stole the wooden figurines and burned them. And, you know, when Hernan Cortes introduced a statue of Mary to the indigenous people, it's said that they took her and put her beside a statue of an indigenous goddess. Cortes was so mad that he threw a violent tantrum.

Historically, Latin Americans have been seen as bad Christians. I've seen why. In my home town, there is a statue of the goddess of death. Her name is Santa Muerte. At the same time, most people who worship her will call themselves Christian. Christianity means different things to different people, religion usually does.

Christianity is not fascism, actually. I guess I'll die on that hill. Christianity isn't the white American evangelicals you might know calling for rapture and apocalypse. To me, it's been priests in migrant shelters, it's been Latin Americans clutching their rosaries because they spent days kidnapped and tortured. It's also been something that is deeply heretical – a death goddess – but still Christian because this person has decided it is.

It's also a horror to me. I was put in conversion therapy. I will never be a regular person because of what was done to me. I was put in a Christian school where I was harassed over my clothes by nuns, saw violent homophobic and transphobic attacks in front of me routinely. I will never be comfortable with my identity because of Christianity. I will spend the rest of my life suffering because of what was done to me, by people I trusted.

But I know genocide. I know what it looks like, I know what it is. And if you want 2.6 billion people dead, then I'll say that's a lot of innocent people dead. That's genocide. A lot of those in the third world, a lot of colonized people who've made Christianity their own.

I don't know how old you are. For your sake, I'll assume you're my age. In which case, I'm not going to say "touch grass." Instead, just, please, volunteer at a migrant shelter, volunteer at a soup kitchen, work to protect the rights of un-housed people, organize a strike. Speak with your neighbors and ask them if they ever want to hang out, how their jobs are going.

A book written by a trans gay Mexican poking fun at Christian lore and exploring his interest in angels is not.... worth saying all this. Again, I'm not going to reply if you send me anything like this again. But I hope your week goes well. I hope that you go to sleep cozy. And if you're afraid of how scary things are for queer/trans folk, then I'm with you. I really am. You know, I self-published to avoid the book getting banned by fascist-Christians, and when I first announced ABM, I was harassed by Christians; they told me they would burn my book.

I hope you can find some peace in between all the fear. I wish that for both of us.

#mine #ask #maybeee #delete later #maybe ill turn anon off but only maybe

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