#a poet under pressure

[ladycibia]

Yennefer vs Geralt for the bards okay BUT have you ever thought of Priscilla vs Geralt I'm that scenario, also love your art it's so cute in fun💖💖💖

I'm sorry they only fight over gwent

#thank you! <3 #geralt of rivia #priscilla #gwent #jaskier dandelion #zoltan #the witcher 3 #the witcher fanart #a poet under pressure #chibi witchers saga #cibiart #mine:witcher

[soulinkpoetry]

Often times it’s women who make their inner critic a king, following the pressure society puts on them to achieve the perfect look. You’ve got to have moxie, to dethrone that king.

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.

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#you got moxie #inner critic #society #under pressure #soulinkpoetry #perfection #womens quotes #poetry #she writes #tumblr poets #thoughts #feelings #that’s life

[ivesambrose]

ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ🪞

Applicable to future spouse, soulmate, whatever term you prefer 🧡

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at [email protected]

Services Offered

Thank you for the tip 🌹

Masterpost

Picture 1

- Both of you are intellectually driven. Good at observing and reading people. Assertive and often cut throat when circumstances call for it. Will prefer independence and being single over empty or surface level connections.

- May have dealt with a strict mother figure or sibling.

- Seeks wisdom and travel above all. Academics and knowledge is also extremely important to both of you. You and them may also be overqualified or haven't liked sticking to one particular degree or field for long.

- Both of you might like trekking or feel connected to the mountains and outdoors.

- Often display obsessive and perfectionist behaviour in terms of work. Might have specific hyper fixations.

- Might have struggled and overcame addictions or addictive behaviour or have faced controlling partners or people in their lives.

- One of you prefer leisure time and being left alone to pamper yourself when stressed or overwhelmed, other might resort to channeling that into sports, working out or getting work done.

- Animals feel safe around both of you.

- Prone to sleep paralysis or vivid dreams. One of you can't tolerate alcohol or recreational drugs at all.

- May have mercury and 9th house synastry. May have Sagittarius, Libra or Leo in chart.

Picture 2

- Both of you carry grief that has made you feel stuck, may have made you feel ashamed or guilty. But y'all have channeled that into perseverance. Might have been victims of bullying or have witnessed it. This has given both of you a strong sense of justice and the desire to help those in need, the underdogs and the oppressed.

- Neither of you back down from something you're dedicated towards even if it takes time.

- Both of you might come across intimidating to most.

- One of you posseses good language, understanding and networking skills. Are rather mutable. The other is a natural born leader. These two qualities overlap or interachange in each other's presence with time.

- Fiercely protective of loved ones and just as nurturing. Often too sympathetic and need to establish stronger boundaries.

- Life has knocked both of you down a notch several times but it has given you two the ability to rebuild stronger foundations every single time.

- Don't necessarily do well under pressure but will come up with the most radical idea or breakthroughs when least expected.

- May have dealt with intimacy issues.

- Need to be very mindful of the people both of you trust and are vulnerable with.

- Can be an extremely influential duo together. May lead a rather non traditional life.

- Might have 8th and 12th house synastry or moon synastry. Might have cancer and aquarius placements.

Picture 3

- Both of you believe in fate, destiny and luck. Right place and right time but are also rather controlling by nature. Some days you'll go with the flow and let things happen other times you will take charge.

- Both of you cannot and will not back down. Life has thrown daggers at you, yet you have overcome them. Unmatched determination.

- One or both of you may have suffered from anger issues and now transmute that elsewhere.

- Excellent wordsmiths and magnetic personalities. Might be good writers, poets, directors, planners etc

- Both of you have distinct, attractive and memorable voices.

- May struggle with anxiety or insomnia. Might stay up late at night cuz that's when your brain feels most active.

- Both possess emotional intelligence but tend to carry burdens, emotional labour and resentment for long periods.

- Love luxury that is earned after hard work.

- Fond of fragrances.

- Passionate and intense lovers by nature but just as picky.

- Old souls, have a personal relationship with time and it's fleeting nature. Might prefer preserving memories.

- Work better independently, make excellent entrepreneurs.

- Both love to travel or travelling is extremely important to both of you.

- Might have Saturn, mercury, Sun and 10th house synastry. May also have nodal synastry. Might have Mars or Jupiter influence in chart.

#free readings #tarot community #divination community #pick a card #pac #pick a picture #valentine's day pick a card #love pick a card #love pac

[tacetxmagicae]

Tag Dump: Characters; can be updated

#; soldier poet king (tyler) #; hey sister do you still believe in love (taylor) #; under pressure (heather) #; fly fly fly away (ruth) #; leave us in ruins (catherine) #; i had the best day with you (sheryl) #; he didn't have to be (thomas)

[anakincentric]

mdni. minors & ageless blogs will be blocked. warnings: prompt, sexual content, implied smut, established relationship, dom!anakin, daddy kink, size kink, degradation (f receiving), dry humping, tit sucking mention.

anakin's intense gaze darkens as he gradually approaches you from behind. your pretty little hips swaying to the beat of the music in your earbuds. he inclines back to get a good look at you, watching your skirt swing from the motion, and his tongue forms over his upper lip as he takes it in. you have no clue he's here, so he takes advantage of your cluelessness. a smile tugs at his lips at the sound of your discordant humming to the melody in your ears, throwing in a word or two you know every so often to break it up. big hands reach out and cup your narrow hips, guiding you back as he steps up, and you squeak in surprise.

"oh! daddy, hi!" you exclaim, and tap your earbud to pause it so you can hear him if he says anything. his nose grazes your shoulder and up the column of your neck as his body curls around you, wrapping thick arms around your middle to stamp you against him. "you startled me."

"you singin'?" he asks, that little grin of his still present on his plump lips that peck at the skin behind your ear. his words weren't particularly jeering, just amused, and you frown anyway.

"shut up, i didn't think you could hear." you reply playfully, and tilt your head to make room for him. while he snuggles on you, a big sigh of content leaving him, you continue to work, spooning flour into a cup. the wet and warm sensation of his tongue slides against your skin as he mouths at your neck. instinctively, you shy away, privy to what this behavior leads to. your hypothesis is only confirmed as his huge hands traverse up your stomach to palm at your tits through your baby tee. "daddy!" you chide through a giggle while he roughly squeezes into the soft tissue and he open-mouthed sucks on your pulse point. he ignores your scoldings, kneading your chest, rolling the flesh in his hands and pressing them into you.

he releases your skin with a sodden pop and speaks against your ear as his fingers hook under the hemline of your shirt. "show 'em to me." he tells you, and you use a free hand to stop him because you like playing with him that way. "c'mon, don't be a little princess."

"i'm busy! i'm baking!" you protest, but you let him go further, folding your shirt up over your upper chest so your tits are free. hastily groped, they ache with his grip on them, squishing them together as his pants tighten behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder so he can watch the way he strangles your tissue between his fingers.

"you think you can get a nipple in your mouth from this angle?" he muses, clearly visualizing you sucking on your own nipple as he begins to angle your little buds towards your face.

"what's gotten into you today?" you question, and possess half a mind to smack his hand with your spatula. his head pivots so as to latch onto your neck with his teeth, scraping them hard against you as you whimper from the act.

"i'm trying to fuck your little hole." he murmurs against you and you nearly fall limp in his arms. it's subtle, but you feel how the pressure on your ass shifts while he dry humps you for some friction and relief.

"daddy! don't be gross." you whine, but you're already tugging up the waistline of your skirt.

·˚ ₊˚ˑ taglist - add yourself here. @sleepycreativewriter @aerangi @xstarkillerx @loveliestgeek @crazyforbyler @wifeofasith @emmalandry @amorx @timmyluvr @halleysc6met @arzua10 @haydenswhores @bobthe-turmpetman29 @xo-hayleyy-xo @gloomybabygirl @inneedsoffanfics @meshlaxbunny

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#[🌸] #:anakin #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin x you smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x you smut #anakin x fem reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x y/n smut #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x y/n smut #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin fic #anakin fanfiction #smut #cw: daddy kink #cw: size kink #source: pinterest

[machiavellli]

Some spicy Theodore Nott headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: this was like driving: I don't have a driver license. Seriously like, you absolutely hyped me up for writing this and now I feel like I need to go touch some grass and drink some holy water.

Btw we shouldn't feel ashamed, like the first people ever to write in a language that is more similar to ours, literally wrote about about two nun fuck1ng him 108 times (yes that's what he says) in a week bc they thought he was mute. Like women in the 700 were DYING bc of novels, bc they couldn't never have enough of it and the majority developed a masturbat1on add1ction. We can't be worse, that's just humanity at its core: we are h0rny creatures.

⚠️: The blue parts are from a poem, from the author Giacomo da Lentini and it's called "Meravigliosamente" (| put a translation at the end, because it's ancient Italian and you can't translate it with a normal translator). It's one of my favorites poems ever, it's one the best incarnation of what love feels like. Yeah now the poets are cursing at me from above.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+!!Breeding k1nk, p in v, ora1 f receiving, pregnant! reader description, nak3d people in general (idk what to put, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED). English is not my first language, therefore you could find some mistakes, please report them to me!

With all being said: enjoy<3

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Theodore Nott, your Italian Slytherin guy:

Theo loves to love as we already established.

He loves to give, he would let his blood dry for you.

Therefore he likes to take care of his dear ones, especially you, il suo tesoro.

I also already told you about how he will think about your future together, how he would love to have a proper family with you.

He just wants to have what his family wasn't capable of giving him.

So when the seventh year it's over, it also means that his only obstacle, the one that used to keep him away from his dream, is also over.

Something changes inside of him, un istinto primario prende il sopravvento. He knows that now it is actually possible.

«Meravigliosamente

un amor mi distringe

e soven ad ogn'ora.»

Maybe the first few months it wouldn't be so evident, he would probably keep it for himself.

He wouldn't like to put pressure on you, he couldn't.

But every time you get intimate, tutte le volte che fate l'amore, he can't help but think what it will feel like letting himself go completely.

Letting it happen.

Letting himself have a proper release.

Letting himself paint your inside white.

His warm finding the embrace of your core.

Planting a life, creating it with il suo tesoro, la sua diletta.

That's the ultimate dream e cazzo quanto lo vorrebbe.

«Com'omo che ten mente

in altro exemplo pinge

la simile pintura,

cosi, bella, facc'eo,

che’nfra lo core meo

porto la tua figura.»

But for now he still has to curse within himself, "cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.", imprisoning that release, that dream.

Simply wishing he could stay inside, saving every drop for you.

It's so hard for him to distract himself from the heavy daydreaming.

His mind as pregnant with thoughts as he wish you were.

You would just look so gorgeous round with his child.

And he would easily do everything under the sight of your new silhouette.

(As he wasn't already totally lost in this love, this passion per la sua bella)

This particular scene keeps repeating in his cursed mind:

You, full and completely bare before him sitting on your shared bed, nonchalantly putting cream on every inch of your skin after a shower.

He might be at the doorstep looking from afar or already on the bed

But it always ends with him interrupting you, taking your hands with devotion, already giving you passions with just his eyes, just for him to say: "dimmi quello che desideri e sarà tuo"

And he would literally do anything.

«Al cor m'ard'una doglia,

com'om che te lo foco

a lo suo seno ascoso,

e quanto più lo'nvoglia,

tanto arde più loco

e non po star incluso»

He would let you exploit his tongue in favor of your pleasure, savoring every drop coming from down there.

Growling just at your moist sight

And he would taste you like a starved man.

Over and over again.

On the bed,

On the Couch,

At the dinner table.

Sempre e ovunque.

Holding you still with one of his firm hands on your now round stomach.

Non è mai stato così facile inginocchiarsi e predicare da quando la sua religione, la sua donna angelo, sei diventata tu.

You look like a miracle to him.

And he would absolutely get lost in this strong trance filled with amore, passione e lussuria.

He would delicately lay your figure on the bed, like the most precious Greek statue of a goddess.

But the softness of your skin will make him realize that you are not a vision, but his blessed reality.

Your fullness getting in the way would quickly become the most delicious sight ever in his eyes.

His dead stare penetrating your soul along with his physical body.

He would tell you that his eyes look gone because he is convinced to be already dead and already in Paradise.

So lost in the haze, so convinced of the woman under him to be an angel.

And now, he is making her la madre dei suoi figli, sua moglie, la sua fiamma, da qui all'eternità.

Your legs, now afar from each other, looking like the most rare prophecy.

The softness of your skin feeling like the salvation from every sin.

Your swollen breast moving along his movements in you, rhythmically, like a fine melody.

And if by chance a single tear of your product falls from them, his eyes would shine like the sun during August.

He won't esitate to collect it with his mouth, tasting yet another one of your miracles. He wouldn't hold back the raw attitude taking over his mind, he simply couldn't.

«Assai v'aggio laudato,

madonna, in tutte parti

di bellezze ch'avete.»

When you two got together he thought he couldn't love you more, the same on your wedding day, but now he would simply let this love tear him apart he would still and always pray in your name.

In the morning he would wake you up gently, caressing you cheeks, watching as the eyes that caught his soul slowly open.

He would prepare breakfast for you, taking it directly in bed.

And every day will only be about you and you only.

Need a bath? Already prepped and warm amore.

You have swollen feet? A massage from him is mandatory.

Need to put the nursery together? Consider it done.

And don't get me started on the amount of stuff that he would buy for your unborn child.

He just wants to make sure everything will be ready for the big day.

But that's just a dream, playing tricks with his mind.

«Canzonetta novella,

va canta nova cosa;

lèvati da maitino

davanti a la più bella,

fiore d'ogn'amorosa,

bionda più ch'auro fino»

"Theo, darling, are you still here?" you ask him after two solid minutes of him staring at you, to the point that you were starting to feel suffocated by his gaze.

His pupils blown, and as his breathing increase, he finally snaps back from daydreaming.

But now, now it's been months of this agony, della sua mente completamente offuscata dal desiderio.

He just can't help himself anymore, he is a direct and honest person, he can't continue to keep this away from you.

And with the most serious expression known to mankind and his eyes firmly buried into yours, he doesn't hesitate anymore:
"Facciamo un figlio amore, facciamolo adesso, non ne posso più d'aspettare, non posso più nemmeno aspettare che er mondo faccia n'altro giro" he would tell you in one breath.

You kiss him delicately, "Allora non esitare, non aspettare che la luna fugga Mr.Nott"

"Ai suoi ordini Signora Nott"

"Ti amo tantissimo" the last thing he would tell you before finally letting himself completely go, completamente perso in questo amore, si che possa ammirare te, te sospirare e te amare, te soltanto.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Okay so here's the translation of the poem, the canzonetta, which as I said it's called "Meravigliosamente", in English “Wonderfully":

My ask box is open!✨🥂

<- part II

-> part III?

#theodore nott headcanons #my headcanons #my gif #Theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #Slytherin #Harry Potter fandom #theo nott x reader #Theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #breeding k1nk #theodore nott smut #theodore nott scenarios #preggo kink #Theodore nott x pregnant!reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #harry potter headcanon #fem reader #slytherin friend group #smut #italian literature #poetry #slytherin boys x you #theodore nott #pregnancy k1nk #Theodore nott aesthetic #new Roman Empire unlocked #dark academia

[violottie]

Today marks half a year of Palestinian genocide perpetrated by the Israeli and US governments." from Jewish Voice for Peace, 07/Apr/2024:

caption continued under image

We are in this catastrophe today—with over 33,000 Palestinians killed, the healthcare system in Gaza decimated, almost 2 million Palestinians displaced, and over 1 million Palestinians starving—because our government does not value Palestinian lives.

In the past six months, entire Palestinian lineages were destroyed, families were robbed of precious memories and milestones, and the paintings and words of artists and poets were snuffed out. The effects of six months of this genocide will last generations.

We have reached this horrifying milestone not because of circumstances beyond anyone’s control, but as a result of political decisions. Political decisions made by our government who—rather than listening to millions of Palestinians crying for justice or the majority of Americans who want a ceasefire—is choosing to continue this genocide by sending weapons to the Israeli military.

We do not need to continue down this path of destruction and devastation. The cracks in the US war machine are showing, but not fast enough. We need to keep the pressure up, and keep it high.

We will never stop fighting for a free Palestine, from the river to the sea. We will never forget.

#israel is an illegal occupation #israel is evil #israel is committing genocide #america is committing genocide #human rights #feminism #save the children #palestinian lives matter #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #i stand with palestine #rafah #save rafah #jewish voice for peace #jews for palestine #antizionist jews #jews against israel

[puckspoetry]

DPS: Charlie’s Symbolism

Conformity and the dangers of it are a major theme throughout Dead Poets Society and Charlie Dalton is a direct representation of this. Charlie’s character can be simply defined as “the bad boy” but to film whores like me, he’s so much more than that. Charlie is a symbol for free thinking which becomes increasingly evident as the film plays out.

The first time we see Charlie give in to Keating’s teachings, he tears out a page from his textbook. Charlie is the first one to do so which shows how eager he is to break the rules and think for himself. He is a fiercely independent person and aims for nothing less than total control of himself and his mind. Keating tunes in to this as he encourages the boys to savour language and to live their true lives; a message which Charlie takes to heart.

Charlie is seen to be in his own world throughout the course of the film and it is most prevalent in the courtyard scene. In this scene, Keating encourages each student to find his own way of walking. Charlie simply refuses to walk and this can be easily brushed off as laziness and arrogance. But under a microscope, we can see that Charlie is proving Keating’s point to perfection. Charlie’s stride (or lack thereof) consists of him moving at his own pace which is seen to be standing still. By trying to seem cool, he has exactly proved Keating’s lesson useful; he has found a way of moving that suits him regardless of what other people are saying or doing.

Charlie’s independence shines through the brightest in this scene as he is no longer a lazy, arrogant student, but someone who has found comfort in himself and is able to express his way of walking without feeling peer pressures. “Swim against the stream” Keating says throughout this lesson; whilst Charlie may not be moving at all, he is actively swimming against the stream of his classmates as he is being his own person.

Conformity is shown in this scene via the class of boys all walking around the courtyard. Granted they are all finding their own way of moving. But, Charlie’s lack of movement illustrates Keating’s point better than any walk going on in the yard as he is being his own person and this is a lesson Charlie carries with him right until his final moments.

~

Charlie is so much more than just an arrogant, lazy student and I will defend him until the day I die. I am so SICK of Charlie slander

#dead poets fandom #anderperry #dead poets society #dps #neil perry #todd anderson #writeblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #charlie dalton #Knox overstreet #Mr Keating #John Keating #Steven Meeks #Gerard Pitts #writerscommunity #writing #writblr #puckspoetry

[redactahoe]

Things I believe are true about babe:

Has a very thick Russian accent and sometimes struggles remembering their English

Forgets certain English words and describes them horribly(ie: spicy plant when referring to a cactus)

Sarcastic as all hell

Really does not understand or care for pack/clan etiquette, like a vamp king said babe should respect their elders and babes deadass response was “why should I respect you when the only thing you’ve done is managed to look like a 2000 years old rotting corpse while only being 60.” Completely dead faced and monotone

Has cans and will call David out for his bullshit

Psychology nerd

Just a nerd in general, they love reading

Has a vast and very large book collection

Only person other than David to be able to rangle Asher in

Besties with darlin, they’re both book nerds(babe and Sam are the only one knows that darlin is a book nerd)

Artist/painter, their sketches mostly come of the pack and of course Asher

Tragic mad scientist vibes(no I won’t elaborate)

Super mysterious/ “this person has a dark and grimy past but you can only get that in subtext”

Loves the supernatural and true crime

Immediately picked up on what Quinn was doing with the whole “hurting the things darlin loves” and called that out at darlins first meeting back

Knows a lot of disturbing things like how to properly dissect and hide a body and where exactly you have to stab someone to hurt but not kill

Poet at heart, they are the theatre kid

Is not scared of David at all or at least now they aren’t. At first they were a little wigged out cause he’s one big dude but now they’ll call him a bitch to his face

Very blunt, doesn’t sugar coat shit

Has an arsenal of violent threats that Asher and the rest of the pack aren’t entirely sure if they’re just threats

Has told somebody who was victim blaming darlin that if they don’t shut tf up babe was going to string their guts up while making listen baby shark on loop

On that same note Chrissy was talking just a little to much shit and they told him they were going to sew all his orifices shut if he didn’t shut himself up

Somehow is the worst under pressure but also works the best under pressure at the same time

Know how to fight

Also knows how to use a sword

Surprisingly a lot of patience(I mean look at who their fiancé is guys)

They’re dad is a very big and intimidating man of few words and their mother is the sweetest women alive

Their like average height but Asher is tall as hell so they look short next to him

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted darlin #redacted sam #sam collins #redacted sam collins #redacted david #redacted asher

[darlingdekarios]

serenity.

rating: mature for mentions of adult themes. length: 1,810 content: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, this was written in 2022 and has been rotting in my drafts (enjoy it if you dare)

Bruce concedes to a morning well spent with you at his side.

Normally when the bed sank under his weight as whatever amount of sunlight the clouds would allow was notating the beginning of a new day, the gentle hues blocked from sight by thick, dark curtains that you weren’t entirely sure he ever opened, you took it as your cue to leave. 

It hadn’t always been this way with him. What had started as scarce meetings had become routine, waking in the comfort of his own bed now rather than the guest room down the hall. It was simple, at first, and now had grown to be something so complex in the year since it’d started  – it had been this way for only a few weeks, and already the two of you clung to the fleeting moments of domestic bliss on these mornings. 

After a shower to wash away the evidence of his night, he would quietly crawl beneath the blanket that awaited him, brushing his lips across your jaw delicately as he wished you a good day. It was simple, quick – you never overstayed.

It would be foolish to hope for anything different from him, and yet the familiar weight built in your chest today as you heard him quietly make his way to the bed, a deep breath releasing as he surrounded himself in the warmth you’d provided in the bed. You silently waited, wishing despite all logic that today would be different, that he’d allow you even a moment longer to soak in the bliss of his presence. 

But recently, your hopes had been echoed in the heart of the man who had stolen your heart. While Bruce could seldom keep himself awake past five minutes with you beside him in his bed, the moment you were gone he grew restless again – no matter how exhausted his body was. 

He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, angling his head to bury his face in your neck, breathing in the familiar scent that never lingered in the sheets long enough. You waited for his next words, for the truthfully unwanted instruction to leave to slip past his lips, finding your chest heavier than ever with hope that today would be different.

You were caught off-guard by his steady hand sliding to your hip, applying an encouraging amount of pressure to hold you against him. With little hesitation you melded to him like wax, your eyes closing tight as you wondered whether or not you’d truly woken for the day yet. 

“Stay with me today.”

Sometimes the least words said the most, and in this very instance all Bruce Wayne needed were four little words to say everything your heart was wishing for, to put your mind to a quiet ease as a knowing relief filled you. You were certain those fifteen letters would repeat in your mind like a poet’s finest sonnet. 

To anyone else it would sound as an instruction instruction, but you knew he intended it as a request. If you wanted to stand and walk through the door after being passed a quick breakfast by Alfred he would let you, just as he did every other morning he returned to you. 

He wasn’t the kind of man who was used to his questions going unanswered, his impatience showing itself with a gentle squeeze to your hip. His lips found purchase on the soft skin beneath your ear again, ever-so-lightly brushing the sensitive area. The longer you allowed his words to linger between you the more his regret for speaking them began to sink in, his breath beginning to catch as the assumption a ‘no’ would follow began to run rampant in his mind.

He needed you, though it pained him to admit it, even to himself. 

Serenity returned when you turned to face him, his eyes accustomed to the dark enough to see the light smile on your lips and the colors that painted your eyes his favorite shades. You reached upward to rest your hand against his cheek, brushing it briefly before moving to smooth a piece of his wet hair back.

“Good morning, Bruce,” you finally whispered, the words carrying enough of an answer to flood his chest with relief. He leaned forward to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as this continuously coveted feeling of peace overtook him. 

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” he breathed out the words before he could stop them, though the back of his mind cursed him immediately for the subtle confession that he thought of you while he was gone, the nagging persistence to be okay alone ever-present in his mind.

It was almost easy to ignore the gnaw when that beautiful, short laugh fell from your lips.

“Well, sorry to disappoint, Mister Wayne,” you offered, leaning forward only slightly more to rub the tip of your nose against his briefly. It always felt doltish to him when you stirred up this feeling in his stomach and made his heart skip, but served as a humbling reminder that no matter how many fears he overcame, it would never stop him from getting nervous around you.

He was enamored with you. It grew harder by the day not to tell you so loud enough that every wall in the manor could hear it.

“Anyone who considers your presence a disappointment doesn’t deserve to be in it.”

You were certain he could feel your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest and wondered if he felt how much you warmed up under his simplest flirtations. Almost as if he could feel your every cell screaming to be closer to him – perhaps it meant his were doing the same – he grasped your hips tightly as he rolled to his back, pulling you atop him in the smoothest, most practiced movement. He was rewarded with your radiant smile again, and it was quickly worth the over-exertion of energy he no longer sparred. 

“Is this sweet talk supposed to distract me from that bruise on your jaw?”

Bruce loved how gentle you were – you were probably the only one who ever truly was anymore, and he could lose himself in your tender touch, even as your fingertips brushed over the gothic array of blues, purples and blacks. Though he winced, he quickly recovered to lean his head closer to your hand, turning to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You always forgot how easy it was to lose yourself in his eyes.

“I really did think you’d be gone by now,” he muttered, his lips barely parting as he whispered against the inner part of your wrist. “I’m later than usual.”

That was obvious, even with the curtains drawn. The bruise was hardly the only eyebrow raising decoration on his skin, nor was it even the most severe. His nose had been bleeding recently, his bottom lip split open and swollen…but arguably most of all, the dark smear of makeup around his eyes that had run in the Gotham rains.

“I worry too much you won’t come back to leave before you do.”

Though he corrected himself quickly by tearing his gaze away from yours, busying his movements with gentle kisses up your arm until his lips brushed against your neck, you could feel the subtle curve to his lips as he pressed them below your ear. 

“Guess I should try harder to be on time.”

He silenced any further conversation with his lips claiming yours, your heart immediately bursting in your chest like it was the first time all over again. Bruce always kissed you like a man on borrowed time, and now was no different as he pulled you closer to him, desperate to feel the familiarity of your body against his. With a smile you pulled away slowly to end the kiss, though he was always ready to chase after you. His lips were so close your own brushed against them as you spoke. 

“What am I going to do with you, Bruce?” you questioned through quickened breaths, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. He knew what was to follow by the expression that crossed your features as your eyes clenched shut. “I can’t bring myself to ask where you go, because I already know the answer…and I just don’t want to hear that you’re stupid enough to put your life in danger every night for this horrible, dreadful city.”

He was too distracted by the only thing purely good in his life. If he was listening, he might agree: there was a lot of bad in Gotham – more than any one city could bear, really. But Gotham was where you called home, his personal shining beacon of the proof that humanity could be good. Ever since he’d met you he’d thought of you at night, saw you in the face of every person who needed help. 

One thing Bruce still feared was what could happen to you. Was it better to let you live your life as you wanted, walking the streets of Gotham with your friends to do the things that normal people did while there were so many criminals all around? Or was it better to monopolize your time so he could keep you safe? His punishing voice in the back of his mind was always ready to remind Bruce that the closer you got to him, the more danger you were in because of the secrets he hid from you. And yet, more and more often, he was crafting reasons to see you.

Calloused hands lifted to caress your cheek with such careful delicacy it was as if he thought you were made of glass, the lightness only increasing as his thumb carefully brushed across your bottom lip. “You deserve to live somewhere better than this.”

“You can’t fix it all, Bruce,” the seriousness behind your words weighed in the air heavily, but his feather-light affections never faltered as you spoke. “You can’t fix Gotham. It’s too broken…too many terrible people taking their turn with it and breaking it worse than before.”

His hand now slipped to the back of your head, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his, the rain still dampening his hair. You reached upward to push his hair back gently, eyes not abandoning his gaze for a single moment. He’d stay exactly like this all day, if you’d let him - basking in your warm embrace and cherishing the rare moments he knew you were safe. 

“But people can be better. You remind me of that.”

Did he deserve it - the serenity and peace you brought him, the security you offered his heart? Perhaps not with his blood stained knuckles and cynical mind. Regardless, he’d spoil himself with you anyway for as long as you were willing to be his golden horizon.

masterlist.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne fanfiction #the batman 2022

[ammg-old2]

How do you protect a culture that is being wiped out?

For Uighurs, this is more than just a hypothetical. Repressive measures against the ethnic minority have progressively worsened: The Chinese government has corralled more than 1 million of them into internment camps, where they have been subjected to political indoctrination, forced sterilization, and torture.

The targeting of the Uighurs isn’t limited to the camps. Since 2016, dozens of graveyards and religious sites have been destroyed. The Uighur language has been banned in Xinjiang schools in favor of Mandarin Chinese. Practicing Islam, the predominant Uighur faith, has been discouraged as a “sign of extremism.”

Beijing frames these moves as its way of rooting out terrorism, separatism, and religious extremism. But the aim of China’s actions in Xinjiang is clear: to homogenize Uighurs into the country’s Han Chinese majority, even if that means erasing their cultural and religious identity for good. What is taking place is a cultural genocide.

The repercussions bear heavily even on Uighurs living outside the country. Their burden is more than just raising awareness about what is taking place in their homeland—a task many have taken up at great cost to themselves and their families. It’s also about preserving and promoting their identity in countries where few people might know who the Uighurs are, let alone what the world stands to lose should their language, food, art, and traditions be eradicated.

In an effort to understand what this kind of cultural preservation looks like in practice, I spoke with seven Uighurs residing in Britain, France, Turkey, and the United States. As chefs, poets, singers, filmmakers, language teachers, and musicians, each of them is contributing to this work in different ways. All of them are passionate about ensuring that their heritage will be passed on to future generations. None of them is under any illusions about what’s at stake if they fail.

“Every Uighur now is under very big psychological pressure,” Omer Kanat, the director of the Uyghur Human Rights Project, a Washington, D.C.–based nonprofit, told me. “We cannot sleep at night.”

#current events #culture #genocide #cultural genocide #oppression #diaspora #islamophobia #uyghur genocide #xinjiang #uyghurs

[soulinkpoetry]

The ones with underlying issues, will buckle.

.

.

#under pressure #healthy mind #mental health #soulinkpoetry #poetry #she writes #tumblr poets #thoughts #feelings #that’s life

[tearskillstardust]

🎐 WINTER FLOWERS AND AUTUMN LEAVES; k. kazuha

— summary; kazuha has very little in his life to hold on to, and when love leaves his grasp, he doesn't know what to do anymore. [povs switch frequently] modern au!

— !! tw: themes of— death, suicide, depression, implied sex, co-dependency, toxic relationship. !! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. — female reader. angst and emotional content. long read under the cut.

It was midnight.

When I was born, that is.

Of course I couldn't remember it, and I bet mother lied that she could just so she didn't look like an entirely awful parent. She recited the fact it was the most beautiful day of her life because she overheard women in crowded markets say that to their little five-year-old sons, but little five-year-old me still thought I was special. Apparently, I was a handful, and nothing had changed since.

I soon realized she mixed this beautiful day up with the day my father left her, which was only a week before. They'd argued: bottles smashed, tremors, pleading, front door slammed. She shut doors with special caution for eighteen years after that, nudging them slowly as they creaked one, two, three times into the doorframe whilst gently twisting the doorknob into place as if she were waiting for someone to knock again, letting them know she'd kept the door open for so long but would still let them slip through.

I never found out what they argued about. Me, probably. The smartest thing mother ever did was never tell me.

When I was six, seven, eight, nine, and ten, I'd gotten used to taking care of my mother, tipping water down her throat, carefully, both hands, the way I should've been practising on a doll. I used to go out and spend hours in parks with kids who didn't care about me just to come home to find her scattered on the living room floor. I didn't understand. Was I meant to? Mummy, why are you sleeping on the floor? Why were you sick? It smells of vomit in here, wake up—

I didn't go out very much after that.

But school and friends peeled me away from it. It was both terrifying and refreshing. The only thing was that nobody's parents were like mine—theirs were together. Proud. But I couldn't tell if they were happy. A slice of me well-kept in the ragged pocket in my chest hoped they weren't. It was selfish of me and I knew it but each time I watched someone's parents give their child a gentle smile or pat on the back, I felt like crying my ribs sore.

'Someday, Kazuha, someday,' you often rubbed my back soothingly when it happened.

Someday, I would echo silently, and like someone descending into anesthesia, I began to count backwards.

4 months ago.

'Why do you like winters?', Kazuha had questioned you once, a few months ago, playing around with a leaf in his hand. You couldn't help but look up from your book, only to find him resting against the tree, pondering something deeply.

You stared at him for a bit, at his serene beauty that seemed to be enhanced by the sun's dying rays as they shone over him, before going right back to your book. You shrugged, 'No deep reasons, I just like daffodils I guess.'

'And why do you like daffodils?'

You huffed, irritated but affectionate in the gesture, nonetheless. It was a certain difficulty about Kazuha that made him all the more endearing— but his own habit of over-romanticizing everything never quite appealed to you, nor could you understand where it came from.

For someone who had constantly been pressurized to be the best, you had no time for poetry and art— and he was born a poet. You were thankful for his existence and his acceptance for you, but the poet inside of him could never really be accepted entirely.

You looked up finally once you were done with your page. 'Why does it matter, Kazuha?', you said, never looking directly at him as you picked a lone flower on the ground. He stared on, curious.

'Everything withers when winter passes and returns with spring. Beauty blooms in summer and dies in Autumn. Your or my own preferences don't matter, nature remains undeterred.'

'Isn't their comfort in romanticizing life, though? Finding love and loss in our twilight existence.'

'So you just want to feel loved by giving adjective to natural things?'

He laughed at the simplification. 'No, but to be more direct, since you would like that, I merely like having natural memoirs to associate people and places with, so I tag them with adjectives. Much easier for a wanderer to keep, isn't it?'

You sighed quietly before smiling softly at him. 'You're at it again? Not everyone leaves, Kazuha. Some people come in our lives to stay,'

He smiled at your words, though the smile never quite reached his eyes.

3 weeks ago.

I had always loved stargazing. There was something about staring at the stars that shape our unfortunately funny lives and still deeming them worthy of our praise. Making them the base of our adoration.

I had invited Kazuha here, and though we had talked a lot initially, which ultimately led to kissing and to confession and to this— his head on my lap as I rested against the slide of the children's park, watching with him as the night zoomed by, suddenly every possibility of the future crossed my mind and I couldn't help the curious cat inside of me.

'Why would you want to be with me?', I asked, staring down at him.

Don't get it wrong— he is the love of my life. The most beautiful person I have ever known, ephemeral inside out. Perhaps that's the problem. He is like a songbird, and I am a hunter. Horses don't befriend the grass, but I fall deeper in love nonetheless.

Sometimes I scare myself— Will I ever be able to save myself from the depths I am venturing to? Will he reach his hand out? Will I be able to see him from the depths? Will it be too—

'I love you, that's why.'

What a lie.

'Huh?' I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it would be for the best of both of us.

'You wouldn't think of suicide and then not think of me if you really did, Kazuha.'

He had nothing to say, he quietly stared on. More startled with the knowledge of my awareness than looking for an answer.

But I could not blame him, I had nothing to say either.

I pressed my lips against his in that moment, not realizing I had been crying until he wiped the tears with his thumb. He kissed with a passion, pouring himself out, as though saying all the words through this kiss then he would ever have time to before he left. He always kissed deeply— but right now he did it as though he was desperate to tell me his tale of love.

But I had stopped believing him after a point, and my own support remained these small physical exchanges that we would have; away from the world, under the stars, hoping they would have some pity on us. On me.

'Do you really love me, Kazuha?', I asked when he pulled away, our breaths mingling in an intimate dance of fire and ice. His touch lingered a bit too long on my exposed neck, and I knew part of what was coming.

He remained quiet when I wanted him to answer, before pushing me down on the grass, continuing the kiss. I was the songbird perhaps.

Curiosity killed the cat.

1 day ago.

She wasn't the same after that.

After we slept together, that is.

I had not wanted to hurt her, but only yesterday as I thought over everything once again, I realized how selfish I was. How filthy. Her purity had always been a source of utmost awe for me, as I stared at her skin, free of sin. But it had been foolishness on my side— I should've known my hands would burn against her skin. I should've steered away, but then she stepped in the lion's den like a willing sacrifice.

My mother had said it to me once— it's easier to solve conflicts between lovers if you sleep with them, albeit half drunk.

She was wrong about it.

She was so wrong about many things.

But like a desperate man drowning in dark waters, I clawed at whatever I could take and she, the love of my life, gave me whatever she could before the waters reached waist-deep and I pushed her away.

When we shared a bed, she was the last to sleep. I wasn't a mind reader but I was nearly certain I knew her every reason for muffling her wails in her blanket. I wanted to get up and say something. But when I went to Germany, Greece, then Italy, I needed her to feel nothing but relief. The euphuism had been funny, but she saw right through it.

The moon tutted at me, the sun nearly ready to rise over her, trees leaning over in private chatter, whistling together, chiming their little criticisms as the sinners—suicide and homicide—stared at each other.

I had always dreamed of how today would be ever since I had made up my mind. Dying was never easy, no matter how badly you desired peace. Instincts could never be stopped. Drowning, cutting, burning, suffocating— I tried everything in the same order, then backwards, then all at once. But even my self-loathing was not strong enough to betray my instincts.

She found me once— laying in a pool of my own blood. I had never seen her crying before, she'd been desperate, desperate to do anything, to scream, to cry, to shout but the night was a trap on us that doused her voice and she was left with all but one person to rely on— herself, as she carried me to the hospital.

If the Hindus were right, I was worthy of being a Hemlock in my next life. Cursed to eternal damnation by the gods— a life devoid of love, adoration or beauty. Only the winter for company and solace.

Such thoughts did not scare me.

She did not cry tonight, only packed her bags and left.

7 hours ago.

I folded over into her like a secret billet-doux. I was unbelievably small next to her, my words just as frail as I was. She wanted us to break up. I knew she did, I just wanted to be happy in my last breaths by playing a game of pretense.

'Can you hold me until I'm completely gone?'

Her brows furrowed, eyes devoid of their usual kindness. 'Kazuha.'

She said my name without anything attached to it, like those three syllables meant everything between ardour and despair.

'I know you hate me,' I reassured her, 'I only want to pretend I'm not alone for a moment.'

I began to cry. Am I that insignificant, God? Am I easy to kill?

But to my surprise, she let my head grate against her chest, soft fingers knotting through her jumper, crying, screaming, let it all out, I want to see you hurting darling, let everything go while I take it from you, our final reconciliation, my love.

             But then she let go of me and death held me, tightly, like she was suffocating me, like this was the first and last time she'd ever hold anyone, like murder was primal and she wouldn't shy away from its beckoning voice, like a siren, a mother, a ghost, with the blade to my neck, her final judgement on her tongue—

Let go of me, my love, for this is where I die.

Now.

Autumn. His favourite.

I always had one complaint with Kazuha— he was bad with goodbyes. For someone so poetic, it was a bit ironic even, but I hated how he simply left, walked away as though that was all there was to it. He never turned and smiled, waving back gently with a promise of return, however fake might it be.

Anybody would say he looked peaceful. He's poetry in a face. His lids unfold over his eyes like broken shutters, and it looks like a sigh has prised his mouth open. If you stare hard enough, it looks like he's breathing.

He didn't die like that. Death had to pull the shutters down. She had to draw his mouth shut, but the wind seized it again. She had to scrub the tears and saliva from her skin. Otherwise, it looked like a struggle. It wasn't. He'd given in and told me not to interfere.

As I stared at his coffin, his resting place, I couldn't help but feel repulsed at the muddy brown. It takes place in a church, like most things do. According to Kazuha, his mother is God-fearing, although I don't think he meant it in the conventional sense. Rose just dreads what God will do to her for all her sins, not that she ever made an attempt to repent. The woman is a filthy hypocrite like all cowards are. In turn, her son was taken from her.

Quel dommage.

Surprisingly, I didn't find tears to cry. I came for the same reason as everybody else—curiosity, guilt; not love though. Very few attended because everyone liked Kazuha. It was like he was a discarded newsprint, not a person.

I had cried all I could, wanted to, weeks ago. I knew what was coming— so did he. Neither of us cried when we accepted our fates because we had read it under the stars we made love under for so long. There wasn't guilt in him as he sinned, which made him so corrupt— and there wasn't regret in me as I turned away, which made me, oh, so pure.

I felt violated.

I don't mention it when I visit his grave, though. I hadn't come to hate him, he was wrong about that I'm afraid. I had come to see him for who he was— pure as a fire but feeding on impure things, and I prayed for hours, hands folded, knees scraping against cold, harsh marble as I cried, as I waited, only for the smallest of whispers to infiltrate my mind—

God is dead.

Should I have followed?

there we go! idk if this is exactly what anon was expecting but when i was writing fluff, i suddenly wanted to add angst and it turned into this. thank you very much for your request though! as a treat, i'll also publish some cute kazuha stuff later lmao.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #genshin angst #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #minors dni #anon <3

[ddollfface]

The actual meaning of being a girl is being torn between LoveSick!Athlete and LoveSick!Artist because while children are adorable they are annoying asf. Also, LoveSick!Bimbo? She's like, growing on me. How would the characters be with a darling who doesn't want kids? (Particularly referring to Athlete and Knight, since they seem to be the ones who want kids the most.)

- 💗 (Also, remember to drink water and take a deep breath. <333)

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬?

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Trigger Warnings; bad writing, obsessive behaviors, baby trapping, peer pressure, reader can get pregnant, lesbians, poking holes in condoms, hiding birth control, and just yandere behaviors ig If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Thank you for your kind words 💗!Nonny! I'm really happy that more of my characters are appealing))) It makes me happy that you're enjoying my writing!

Awwww, I'm so glad that my other characters are growing on you! I seems that LoveSick!Athlete is still the fan favorite, though I'm hoping that will change 'cause LoveSick!Bimbo is so cute (in my opinion)!!!

Anyway, I feel that for the majority of the LoveSick!Characters, wouldn't mind not having children with their darling, especially when reader doesn't want to have them. Half of them don't want kids or just don't care too much about them. LoveSick!Friend and LoveSick!Bimbo falls under this line of not wanting children, and I think they'd be content with just being aunties or just having you.

I feel like we have to keep in mind that they are yandere, meaning that they are obsessed with you. Like, literally, they love you no matter what, and they don't mind keeping you for themselves for the rest of your lives.

Now, for characters like LoveSick!Poet, I think that he'd be a little heartbroken, not because he wanted children, but because he feels as if he pressured you with his trauma. LoveSick!Poet did not have a good childhood, and it caused him to develop a poor self-image. And in return, he doesn't want children, in fear of becoming his father, so when you confess that you don't want children, he thinks that he's projected his personal feelings onto you.

But this obviously isn't true, you just don't want children. That's the thing with LoveSick!Poet though. He is hyperaware and is constantly overthinking, so no matter what you say he'll go on and on about how it's your decision, and that he doesn't want to force anything onto you.

And for LoveSick!Artist, I don't think I have to get to him because he, himself, doesn't want children, so he'd be pleased that you're on the same page. It would be difficult for him if his darling wanted children, seeing as he doesn't, like at all. Overall, I think it wouldn't even be a topic for LoveSick!Artist.

Now, moving onto the menaces, LoveSick!Athlete is far more puppy-like than LoveSick!Knight, who's quite violent and overly aggressive toward everyone.

I've kind of touched on LoveSick!Athlete and pregnancy in this post. Overall, I think that you didn't want children, then, at first, LoveSick!Athlete would accept it, telling you that it's all good, babe, we're so young after all.

But that's at the beginning of your relationship, where he's censoring himself so that you'll be more comfortable with him, not wanting to scare you off so quickly. He'll hide his need from you, ignoring the burning desire in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees you hold a little babe. He'll smile throughout it all, only giving you subtle hints, ones that you won't realize until it's far too late. But as the months go pass and as soon as your relationship gets physical, he's on you.

Now, the two of you are having arguments on whether or not he can go raw. You say no; he says yes. You'll practically give him a whole biology lesson, going on about how it's not safe, even though you're on the pill, but he'll just repudiate it. After all, don't you trust me, babe? I've always pulled out, I can do it again, don't worry. You just have to trust me.

If you're still persistent, he'll just poke holes in the condom, small little pricks will do the trick. A little hole won't do anything, right? You'll notice, obviously, because who wouldn't notice the warm rush you get in your stomach? You'll look up at him, eyes widened in worry and panic. Your mind will begin to spin, flooding with thoughts of all kinds.

You'll pat LoveSick!Athlete's shoulder, trying to get him to pull out, and he'll just tilt his head to the side, furrowing his brows. Of course, he knows what you're panicking about, but he feigns innocence, saying that it must've broke, sweets! Shit, it's okay, I'm sure nothing will happen...

And all you can do is trust him, hoping that what he's saying is true. After all, it's not like he'd ever do anything like that, right? He would never cross that boundary... right?

It'll be like that for months, constant broken condoms, and missing birth control. You'll begin to panic, doubting yourself because how the hell is you're the whole package of pills gone? As for the condoms, you'll begin to buy some yourself, thinking that LoveSick!Athlete must just be buying some crappy brand or something, little do you know that that was never the case.

Moving onto LoveSick!Knight, he'll be a lot less sneaky, not fearing pushing your boundaries whatsoever. He has full control over you, and he knows this full well. He has your father, the king, wrapped around his finger, besides, wouldn't the queen be glad to know that she's expecting grandbabies soon? Yes, she would.

If you don't want children, you don't really have a choice in the matter. Though it would take a long while before he'd ever physically force himself onto you, the peer pressure would settle in far quicker. The whole nation is expecting a child from your marriage. Your father, mama, siblings, lady-in-waiting, everyone is waiting for the announcement.

It keeps you awake at night, pondering over whether or not there's something wrong with you. It's your duty as the next queen, and current princess, to provide an heir to the throne. How could you deprive your people of that right? How could you keep the right of fatherhood from LoveSick!Knight?

Now, if you magically push through the pressure to have a child (you must be some type of superhuman), then you'll be subjected to LoveSick!Knight and his cruel actions. I have no doubt that he'd babytrap you, wanting to lock you with him forever.

Seeing as there's no such thing as condoms or birth control, you have no way of preventing a pregnancy, rather than celibacy. Obviously, LoveSick!Knight won't let you keep your body from him, pressuring you to succumb to your "wifely duties." It's only a matter of time before you get pregnant, seeing as LoveSick!Knight isn't holding back whatsoever, stuffing you full of him, him, him.

#lovesick #yandere male #yandere oc x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #x reader #obsessive love #bad writing #wlw #headcanons #oc writing #original fiction #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙗𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩 #💗!𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮

[mariacallous]

A month after the Hamas attack that murdered 1,400 Israelis, including entire families, the country is still at war. Israel has launched a ground offensive aimed at “defeating Hamas.” Israelis are mourning their lost ones, attending funerals, dealing with well over 200,000 people displaced from their homes near the border, identifying bodies, and fearing for the fate of the more than 240 remaining hostages,

The country is caught between the front lines in the Gaza Strip, where the death toll of Palestinians has reached nearly 10,000 people, and the ongoing conflict with Lebanon-based militant group Hezbollah in the north. Settler violence has surged in the West Bank, with armed militants raiding villages, torching fields, and firing at Palestinians, and even targeting Israeli peace activists. The West Bank death toll has surged to 154 Palestinians killed by Israeli fire since Oct. 7.

But after a month of conflict, is it still possible to imagine not just a cease-fire, but a peace? A bruised peace movement is struggling to come to terms with the brutality of Oct. 7—but some see the possibility of hope among the ashes.

Normally, during wartime, citizens rally in support of their government—the so-called rally-around-the-flag effect—and a wave of national unity is evident. Israelis are helping farmers in the south with the harvest, members of the ultra-Orthodox community have volunteered to cook and serve in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), and mothers have donated breast milk for orphaned infants. It is estimated that almost 50 percent of Israelis have volunteered since the war began, all while the public and the military are engaged in a substantial activation of reservists.

But the sense of popular determination stands in sharp contrast to the profound decline in trust toward Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government. Public confidence in Netanyahu is at a historic low. According to a recent poll by Israeli Channel 13 News: Some 44 percent of respondents believe that Netanyahu is directly responsible for Hamas’s attack, and 76 percent believe that he should resign, with 47 percent suggesting he should do so after the war and 29 percent calling for his immediate resignation.

A verse from Haim Nachman Bialik, widely considered Israel’s national poet, has begun to circulate on social media suggesting anger at the government juxtaposed with the cohesion of the populace: “It is the unseen wind that propels the ship forward, not the sails flapping noisily above the mast.”

Despite the resilience of civil society, it’s hard to imagine what comes next. Popular frustration has not coalesced into the organized demonstrations seen in the past, such as in the wake of the Sabra and Shatila massacres, when hundreds of thousands of Israelis called on then-Security Minister Ariel Sharon to resign, or after the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, with a protest that partially led to the resignation of Prime Minister Golda Meir. Nor have they matched the scale of more recent protest movements, such as the demonstrations against an attempted judicial overhaul.

Even before the Oct. 7 attacks, Netanyahu, Israel’s longest-serving prime minister, was already under pressure. He was contending with charges of bribery and fraud, and his efforts to enact judicial reforms—which aimed to diminish the power of the Israeli Supreme Court and potentially make it more difficult to oust him from office—had triggered some of the largest public protests in the nation’s history.

The Israeli liberal left has suffered a setback because the momentum of the anti-judicial reform and anti-Netanyahu protests was stopped in its tracks. Though Netanyahu is widely blamed for the security failure, that frustration hasn’t been channeled into renewing the movement; instead, demonstrations have been mostly limited to installations and peaceful protests to raise awareness to the hostages.

“Israeli society is in a state of shock. We are still identifying bodies, still attending funerals. People feel that this is not the moment to restart protests,” said Ido Dembin, the executive director of Molad, a liberal think tank, in an interview with Foreign Policy. “Moreover, there is a deep disconnect between the public’s desire for Netanyahu’s departure and the political leadership, which has yet to acknowledge this pressing demand.”

The hurt on the left is all too physical. Some of the kibbutzim that were worst hit by the Hamas attack, such as Be’eri, Nahal Oz, and Holit, are strongholds of leftist ideology. Among those murdered was Hayim Katzman, a peace activist; among those kidnapped was Vivian Silver, a dedicated peace advocate. Hundreds have been murdered, including many who devoted their lives to peace, Arab-Jewish solidarity, and the pursuit of ending the occupation. Maoz Yinon, whose parents both were murdered, has been vocal about his support for peace.

Public outrage at the right-wing government, with individuals such as Heritage Minister Amichai Eliyahu, who controversially suggested dropping on atomic bomb on Gaza, is evident. Ministers are chased away from hospitals by relatives of the injured.

“We’re seeing the unraveling of the right-wing doctrine that managing the conflict without end while weakening the voices of moderation is sustainable,” Labor Party Knesset member Naama Lazimi said in an interview with Foreign Policy. “Netanyahu and his colleagues have long empowered Hamas, because it served their interest by halting progress toward political dialogue. This approach has significantly undermined the Palestinian Authority and resulted in one of the gravest crises since Israel’s foundation.”

Yet there’s little public appetite for a cease-fire. According to a poll from the Israel Democracy Institute, even though Israelis lack clarity about the objectives of the operation in Gaza in relation to the government’s goals, they support the army and its mission. Save for Ayman Odeh, the head of the left-wing Hadash-Ta’al coalition, who along with 35 Israeli Jewish and Arab rights groups issued an open letter, no other Israeli leader has called for a cease-fire.

Many Israelis view the war as a necessary action to eliminate the threat of Hamas—and don’t put a lot of weight on Palestinian lives. The same Israel Democracy Institute poll showed that nearly 48 percent of Jewish Israelis surveyed think that Palestinian civilian suffering should not influence Gaza conflict strategies, and 36 percent say it should be given  “not so much” consideration. Meanwhile, 83 percent of Arab Israelis feel “very much” or “quite a lot” in agreement that it should be taken into account.

There are several reasons for this, beyond the sense of anger over the attacks. First, the lack of leadership has led Israelis to place an overinflated trust in the IDF. They trust it because with 300,000 reservists called up, most Israelis know someone who is serving.

Second, Israelis aren’t aware of the magnitude of destruction in Gaza. “Israelis are among the least aware of what’s happening in Gaza,” Dembin said.

The Israeli media, influenced by Netanyahu over the years, has also normalized extreme right-wing rhetoric. This includes people such as researcher Eliyahu Yossian, who suggested that the IDF should adopt the brutal behavior patterns of Hamas militants: “Zero morality, maximum bodies,” he declared on a prime-time TV show. “Liberalism has become the cult of the devil.”

Ratings have shot up for Channel 14, a Netanyahu-loyal TV channel that has taken a jingoistic line. Channel 12, the most popular channel, provides little coverage of the ongoing bombardment in Gaza—in part because journalists either need to get authorization from Israeli authorities to enter the enclave or enter another way.

As Shimrit Meir, once an advisor to right-wing former Prime Minister Naftali Bennett, wrote, “Someone decided about 20 years ago that coverage of the other side is leftist, and since then, the coverage of the opposing perspective has been minimal. This has strategic implications. For example, the heavy price Gaza already paid with bombardment. The feeling in Israel is that until we enter by land, nothing has happened.”

Protests against the situation, or even expressions of solidarity with the hostages, have also been met with censorship, suppression, or even violence.

Four former Arab Israeli Lawmakers were arrested over plans for anti-war protests. Uri Horesh, a professor at Achva College, was suspended from his job for posting against the war. Additionally, the police banned anti-war protests in the cities of Umm al-Fahm and Sakhnin.

Violence broke out at a Tel Aviv protest when a bystander accused the father of one of the abducted children of being a “traitor” and told him that he wished for “your daughter to die.” Left-wing activist Yona Roseman wrote, “Unlike the impunity the police have extended to far-right mobs, left-wing activists are facing detention and arrests for much less.”

National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has been particularly provocative. A former Kahanist—an outlawed party that advocates for a Jewish theocratic state and supports the annexation of the occupied territories—Ben-Gvir, who was convicted of expressing sympathy for terrorism, attempted to incite animosity against Israel’s Arab population at the onset of the war by claiming that there were indications of planned riots.

When those failed to materialize, Ben Gvir called to simplify the process for citizens to acquire firearms. Just last week, an Israeli rapper called the Shadow, known for his extreme right-wing views and online activism, was spotted on the Tel Aviv boardwalk carrying a gun.

“Unfortunately, there are those who have taken this tragedy as a chance to become vengeful and violent” said Alon-Lee Green, the director of Omdim Beyachad. “Right now, we are concentrating on Jewish-Arab solidarity,” Green said. “We are able to show people that Arab society is equally appalled by the murder of Israelis, and that we are in this together.”

The left, already marginalized domestically, feels further betrayed and alienated by a global left that has often engaged in apologism for the massacre, framing it as just another salvo between the oppressed Palestinians and their Israeli oppressors. Israel’s left find itself caught between the trauma of Hamas’s violence, a feckless government, and the dehumanization and abandonment by those who claim to stand up for human rights.

Yet despite the absence of leadership, the suppression of anti-war views, and a profound sense of alienation from the international community, there are signs of an increasing recognition of the conflict’s consequences and the potential for civil society and international actors to pave a new way toward resolution.

There is a growing awareness among Israelis and the international community that Hamas is distinct from the Palestinian people and their aspirations for self-determination. The actions and comments of Hamas leaders have solidified the movement’s status as an outcast, regardless of whether Israel can “erase” it.

Indicative of this perspective is the suggestion by Tzachi Hanegbi, the head of Israel’s National Security Council and a known security hard-liner, that the Palestinian Authority should take over governance in Gaza if Hamas were to be defeated. While it’s a controversial suggestion, it underscores an acknowledgment by some Israelis of the Palestinian Authority as the legitimate governing body for the Palestinians.

Emboldened by recent electoral gains—which saw Ben-Gvir ascend to the role of internal security minister and Bezalel Smotrich become finance minister (both of whom have been under investigation by the Shin Bet in the past)—the settler movement had overreached, underestimating the determination of mainstream liberal Israel. The liberal public began to connect the dots between the assault on the Supreme Court by the government and the attacks by settlers in Palestinian villages such as Hawara. “Where were you in Hawara?” became a chant in the anti-judicial overhaul protests.

The public has also become aware that on Oct. 7, just two battalions were deployed to maintain security at the Gaza border, while 32 units were dedicated to protecting the settlements.

This overstep by the settler leadership has unintentionally cast a spotlight on the immediate threats to democracy that many Israelis now perceive with growing clarity. The settlers and their allies not only benefit from the occupation, but also endorse an agenda that erodes democratic values. They promote a model of Israeli governance that is in sharp contrast to the pluralistic, democratic values held dear by a substantial segment of the population.

This animosity may lead Israelis to acknowledge that reining in the settler initiative, dismantling illegal outposts, and granting the Palestinian Authority more autonomy is not just a partisan issue; it’s a matter of existential importance. Settlers have used the cover of war to increase their violence in the West Bank, a phenomenon that the U.S. White House has called out aggressively

Another powerful factor is the White House’s renewed vigor in seeking to resolve the conflict with a sustainable long-term solution. As President Joe Biden’s approval ratings decline domestically, in Israel, his unequivocal support for the Israeli populace—and his critiques of leadership—have garnered respect even from those who were previously doubtful.

“Since the war began, Biden has proven that he is a true leader in this conflict. Even right-wingers, who had until recently written him off as senile and ineffectual, have started to change their tune,” Dembin said.

A Maariv poll showed that if elections were held today, a centrist coalition would have 78 seats. This would give it a mandate to govern effectively the day after. The old right/left paradigm is dead for now. This could give the White House a way in to create a package that could suit a wide range of the Israeli population.

U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken stated that Gaza “must not be reoccupied” discussed the Palestinian Authority taking control over Gaza when the war is over. PA President Mahmoud Abbas’s approval—albeit as part of a wider Palestinian state—shows that there is some possibility of that proposal working

Yair Lapid stated in an Al-Arabiya interview that the Palestinian Authority should govern Gaza post-conflict, with backing from the global and Arab communities. He added that this could revive two-state talks. And Netanyahu himself has remained implacable, suggesting that Israel will control Gaza for the foreseeable future. However, in a private conversation, Biden suggested that Netanyahu’s reign is on borrowed time.

And so, amid this crisis, a window has opened to find a sustainable solution to the conflict. Members of the Abraham Accords, along with states contemplating the normalization of relations with Israel—such as Saudi Arabia—hold potential sway in convening an international conference.

When it comes to the Israeli public’s readiness to support a process leading toward Palestinian sovereignty, Dembin is cautiously optimistic.

“I would think yes, they might get on board, but it would need to be a measured, gradual approach that reassures Israelis that their safety is front and center—not just an American push for regional peace,” he explained. “Israelis seem to warm up to the idea of peace and coexistence when there’s a solid proposal in play and tend to reject it when there’s nothing tangible in sight.”

[bethsvrse]

PAIRING Thomas Thorne x fem!ghost!reader

A/N I’ve been obsessed with bbc ghosts recently and basically fell in love with Thomas so I just had to write something for him. This is not proof read and most likely has shitty grammar as I literally wrote this in my maths class 😭

WARNINGS kissing?? Peer pressure ig

Thomas didn’t understand why it was so difficult to get Alison under the mistletoe. Each time he had tried today, he had failed miserably and it’s making him so frustrated. Thomas currently had his face shoved into the Captain’s thigh, his body in an uncomfortable position as the two were playing twister, a game Alison got Pat for Christmas.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alison standing at the door frame, right under the mistletoe. Thomas tried to call out to, desperately, but it was muffled due to his position. Thomas rolled his eyes, giving up a kiss with Alison was absolutely and positively not worth it for this terrible game, so he quickly got out of the position and walked (basically ran) towards the door, but alas, Alison was already walking away.

A loud gasp suddenly echoed through the room, and Thomas looked towards Kitty. “You two are under the mistletoe.” She said. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, but turned his head to see you trying to walk away from under the door, but Kitty called out again. “Stop! You have to kiss now, Y/N!”

“Kitty…” Y/N said, “we don’t have to kiss. It’s just silly tradition.”

Thomas laugh, although it sounded quite un-genuine to the people in the library. “Such a silly tradition.” He says. Little do they know, Thomas, despite being a massive poet and always admitting his love to those women around him, quite liked Y/N. Every since you passed away 55 years ago and came into his life, he has never been happier. You two hang out all the time, and he loves how you always listen to his poems. The problem is that when he realised he had these feelings for you, you guys became too close. He felt that if he revealed these feelings, and you rejected him, you would no longer want to be friends.

What he didn’t know is that you harbour the same feelings for him, you been infatuated with him for years. When Alison came to the house, and he started telling her all his poems, and hanging out with her more often, you couldn’t help but to feel jealous. You can’t lie and say it hasn’t been tense around you two, because everyone can feel it.

“It’s not silly tradition it sweet!” Kitty complained.

“I used to always hang mistletoe around the house for me and Carol. It was great, really nice tradition.” Pat told the group.

You rolled your eyes, “fine. If it’s so important to you lot.” You leaned up and Thomas held his breath, his eyes widened, only to feel your lips fall on his cheek before you pulled back. “There.”

“No! It has to be a proper kiss silly!” Kitty giggles, “on the lips.”

Despite not having any blood in his body, Thomas swore his whole face went pink. The idea of your lips on his was enough to make his tummy do somersaults (even you just kissing his cheek made his body feel all fuzzy inside).

“Kitty, it’s not like me and Thomas not kissing is going to ruin Christmas or anything.” You tell her.

“Actually, it suppose bad luck if you don’t kiss under mistletoe.” Mary mentions, causing the rest of the group to send you smirks.

You take a deep breath, the others watch in anticipation on what your going to do. You groan before looking back at the group. “Does it really matter if we kiss or don’t kiss.”

“Yes!” Kitty says gleefully. Thomas frowned. The thought of kissing you sounds delightful but it seems as though you don’t share the same thoughts as him. Only you do. You would love to kiss Thomas, you would just prefer to kiss him without the peer pressure of your friends.

“Look, Thomas doesn’t even want to kiss me and it would be very rude to kiss someone without their permission.” You tell the group and try to leave again. Thomas looked at you on bewilderment, he can’t believe you think he doesn’t want to kiss you.

“I believe Thorne does, Y/N.” The Captain tells you. You glare at him, wondering why he decides now is the best place to join in on the group’s antics.

You turn your head to look at Thomas, “I really don’t mind.” He mutters. “Besides if it makes them stop pestering us.” Thomas says.

“Y’know what? Fine. If it means so much to you people.” You turn your whole body towards Thomas and grab his shirt before pulling him towards you. Your lips fall on his and the poet swore he has never felt anything better.

Thomas lets out a soft hum against your lips, he brings one of his hands your cheek to deepen the kiss. He opens his mouth slightly, brushing his tongue along your bottom lip to gently request access to your mouth. You part your lips ever so slightly before they are quickly pried open further by Thomas’ tongue.

You suddenly remember that the ghosts are watching and quickly pull away. Thomas tries to chase you lips but you step back before he can.

“There. Was that a proper enough kiss for you?” You say. The four ghosts watching don’t answer, so you walk back out of the library, Thomas fixes his waistcoat and looks at the others; his face feeling hot.

“Oh my god.” Kitty ends up saying, breaking the silence.

#bethsvrse #fanfic #thomas thorne x reader #thomas thorne #mathew baynton #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts x reader #ghosts #reader #x reader #fem reader