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antifainternational · 4 months

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January 13 - Global Day of Action for Palestine

Here is a list of protests in solidarity with Palestine for January 13th. If there's no protest on saturday near you, take a look at this site (where we got this list from) to see if there is one near you on another day.

It's a looong list so it's under the cut here:

AUSTRALIA

ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm, Parliament House. Info: http://www.afopa.com.au/afopa-events/2024/1/13/global-day-of-action-for-palestine

ALTONA BEACH, VIC, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, Altona Beach (Kites for Palestine). Info: https://bukjeh.org/etn/fly-a-kite-for-gaza/

CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Garema Place. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1Tmi9jyT6x/

DARWIN, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm Nightcliff Foreshore. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C13PZfQyx6P/

GOLD COAST, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 3:30 pm, Surfers Paradise Esplanade. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1vvY_kpjkM/

HOBART/NIPALUNA, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Davey Street in front of Grand Chancellor. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/877061687400715/

LAUNCESTON, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, Civic Square. Info: https://friendsofpalestinetasmania.org/

MOSS VALE, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13 (Weekly), 1 pm, Leighton Gardens, 127 Argyle St. Info: https://apan.org.au/event/weekly-moss-vale-vigil-for-peace-justice-in-palestine/

MPARTNWE, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 9 am, Cars meet at Telegraph Station, 9:30 am Bikes meet at Snow Kenna Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C10iKLbSjU-/

NEWCASTLE, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Newcastle Museum. Info: https://facebook.com/events/s/protest-end-the-genocide-in-ga/351713430807807/

PORT MACQUARIE, AUSTRALIA – Sat Jan 13, 10 am, Oxley Beach (Kites for Gaza). Info: https://apan.org.au/event/port-macquarie-fly-a-kite-for-gaza/

AUSTRIA

GRAZ, AUSTRIA – Sat Jan 13, 4 pm, Grazer Hauptbahnhof. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1xAHAstgtj/

SALZBURG, AUSTRIA – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Alter Markt

VIENNA, AUSTRIA – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, 1070 Platz der Menschenrechte. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C12dm9itpPv/

WIENER NEUSTADT, AUSTRIA – Sat Jan 13, 2:30 pm, Herzog Leopoldstr. 32 beim BORG.

BELGIUM

BRUGGE, BELGIUM – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Burg. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/1413973119327402/

GHENT, BELGIUM – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Stadshal. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1xNF3Drkr4/

BRAZIL

SAO PAULO, BRAZIL – Sat Jan 13, 2:30 pm, MASP. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1uPIywL3Ch/

CANADA AND QUEBEC

COBOURG, ON (CANADA) – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, Victoria Hall (every Saturday). Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/1050719572872023/

WINNIPEG, MB (CANADA) – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Winnipeg City Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C12TvRUgZr5/

DENMARK

COPENHAGEN, DENMARK – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm, Sundbyoster Plads to Amagerbro Station. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C141sIFsEyb/

ENGLAND

HALIFAX, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Savile Park (Kites for Gaza). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1rcDm1M-bN/

HALIFAX, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13 (every Saturday), 1 pm, Wilkos on Southgate. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14Vb4wMgI_/

HEBDEN BRIDGE, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13 (every Saturday), 3 pm, Roadside Rally, Holme St; 4 pm, Vigil, St. George’s Square. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14Vb4wMgI_/

LEEDS, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13, 12:30 pm, Leeds Becket University to City Square. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1zmlUvMtUE/

LONDON, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, Bank Junction. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1uiCejM9U7/

NELSON, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13 (every Saturday), 1:30 pm, Nelson Bazaars. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/1745872575916888/

NOTTINGHAM, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, St Peter’s Church. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/895516721895213/

SHEFFIELD, ENGLAND – Sat Jan 13, 10:30 am, Ellesmere Green. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C131K5OqywW/

FINLAND

HELSINKI, FINLAND – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Central Railway Station. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1zWU7JtCWt/

FRANCE

LYON, FRANCE – Sat Jan 13, 2:30 pm, Place des Terreaux. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C12BHiDoyBT/

PARIS, FRANCE – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Republique. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C12Kx3hIFnC/

TOULOUSE, FRANCE – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Jean Jaures to Arnaud Bertrand. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1wtkVPiTaC/

GERMANY

AACHEN, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Hauptbahnhof

AUGSBURG, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Moritzplatz

BERLIN, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Neptunbrunnen. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1uWAoUMYgr/

BRAUNSCHWEIG, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Schlossplatz 1

DUSSELDORF, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Hauptbahnhof

FRANKFURT, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 1:30 pm, Hauptwache. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1xJbX7tDbH/

FREIBURG, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Konzerthaus. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1wmG5TKy0H/

JENA, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Holzmarkt. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C15Gvxyse7n/

KIEL, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Bootshafen

MAINZ, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Hauptbahnhof

MUNICH, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Odeonsplatz. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1vDFzfsviF/

SAARBRUCKEN, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Landwehrplatz

STUTTGART, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm, Schlossplatz. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1uhwaBs1OB/

TUBINGEN, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Holzmarkt. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1uiIwVooMj/

ULM, GERMANY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Marktplatz

IRELAND

CARRICK-ON-SHANNON, IRELAND – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, The Bridge. Info: https://www.ipsc.ie/protest/emergency-protests-for-palestine-around-ireland

CORK, IRELAND – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Grand Parade

DERRY, IRELAND – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, Derry Waterside Train Station. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/379355981136459/

DUBLIN, IRELAND – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Garden of Remembrance. Info: https://www.ipsc.ie/protest/emergency-protests-for-palestine-around-ireland

SKIBBEREEN, IRELAND – Sat Jan 13, 12:30 pm, Aldi Carpark. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/884577173028746/

ITALY

FIRENZE, ITALY – Sat Jan 13, 2:30 pm, Corteo da Piazza dei Ciompi.

NAPOLI, ITALY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Piazza Garibaldi. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C11jF13IMfk/

ROME, ITALY – Sat Jan 13, 3 pm, Via dei Fori Imperiali to Largo Corrado Ricci. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C12TtZUNVDn/

KOREA

SEOUL, KOREA – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Zionist embassy. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1wWJ2WJvMn/

MEXICO

GUADALAJARA, MEXICO – Sat Jan 13, 4 pm, Rambla Cataluna to Plaza de la Liberacion. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C13FY23uHH_/

MEXICO CITY, MEXICO – Sat Jan 13, 4 pm, Angel to US Embassy to Zocalo. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C126FgtOh2y/

NEW ZEALAND

TIMARU, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Jan 13, 2:30 pm, Face of Peace, Caroline Bay. (Kites for Gaza). Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/351982744232340/

WHANGAREI, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Jan 13, 10 am, Town Basin. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/1062868608192188/

NETHERLANDS

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Museumplein. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14bgz6skSe/

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm, Dam Square to Museumplein. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C15I-anI-lc/

LEEUWARDEN, NETHERLANDS – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Leeuwarden Station. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1rgX_OoVe4/

ZWOLLE, NETHERLANDS – Sat Jan 13, 3:30 pm, Starbucks station. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C11cUhjsyFd/

NORWAY

OSLO, NORWAY – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Youngstorget to Zionist Embassy. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/876776784142252/

PERU

LIMA, PERU – Sat Jan 13, 3:30 pm, Plaza 27 de noviembre, San Isidro – Parque Kennedy. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1r3BHZrSSM/

PORTUGAL

PORTO, PORTUGAL – Sat Jan 13, 3:30 pm, Praca da Batalha. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14UrYhs-hB/

PORTO, PORTUGAL – Sat Jan 13 (every night), 10 pm, Camara Municipal (Vigil). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1mWoJ0srwr/

ROMANIA

BUCHAREST, ROMANIA – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Universitate to Victoriei. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C11qxxuIlKe/

CLUJ-NAPOCA, ROMANIA – Sat Jan 13, details TBA. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1tsmB2ojCq/

TIMISOARA, ROMANIA – Sat Jan 13, details TBA. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1tsmB2ojCq/

SCOTLAND

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Foot of the Mound. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1od7QsNlCM/

INVERNESS, SCOTLAND – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, The Spectrum Centre. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C15ggmFtNyg/

ORKNEY, SCOTLAND – Sat Jan 13 (every Saturday), 1 pm, St Magnus Cathedral Steps. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/899757958430523/

SOUTH AFRICA

CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Mandela Glasses, Sea Point Promenade. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14N2xlqjyK/

JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, US Consulate, Sandton. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C13qpzSNbYt/

KNYSNA, SOUTH AFRICA – Sat Jan 13, 9 am, N2 C/O Main Service Rd and Wagtail St, Sedgefield, Western Cape. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/910931826901335/

SPANISH STATE

A CORUNA, GALICIA, SPAIN – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm, Praza de Lugo. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14lQvascZx/

BETERA, VALENCIA – Sat, Jan 13, 5 pm, Ayuntamiento de Betera. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1ISqjUN2ir/

COMPOSTELA, GALICIA, SPAIN – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, Praterias. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14lQvascZx/

MOLINA DE SEGURA, SPAIN – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, Plaza de Ayuntamiento. Info: https://twitter.com/LibreRegion/status/1743912944612540608

VIGO, GALICIA, SPAIN – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, Porta do Sol. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C14lQvascZx/

SWEDEN

KARLSKRONA, SWEDEN – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Klaipedaplatsen. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/7004450806289059/

KRISTIANSTAD, SWEDEN – Sat Jan 13, 2:30 pm, Stora Torget. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C15GIWbNI_K/

MALMO, SWEDEN – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, St Knuts Torg. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1348ATC6Uq/

VARBERG, SWEDEN – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, Varbergs Torg. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1piXtgLGYj/

SWITZERLAND

BASEL, SWITZERLAND – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Theaterplatz. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1m6lOxLDI-/

UNITED STATES

EUGENE, OR (US) – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Federal Courthouse, 405 E 8th Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1jOAiXiUJ0/

FORT COLLINS, CO (US) – Sat Jan 13 (every Saturday), 3 pm, Old Town Square Stage. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1n9pmNOGFd/

FORT WAYNE, IN (US) – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, MLK Bridge.

KALISPELL, MT (US) – Sat Jan 13, 12, Main and Center by Depot Park (Every Saturday). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1puNa1ucrm/

KANSAS CITY, KS (US) – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Granada Park, Roeland Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C10Y27LJ1EO/

LANGLEY, WA (US) – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, Bayview Rd and Hwy 525. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/373235975254744/

MIAMI, FL (US) – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, University Metrorail Station. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C15V1BXLyc-/

NEW YORK, NY (US) – Sat Jan 13, 12 pm, NE Corner 5th Ave and 44th St, Brooklyn. (Vigil, every Saturday). Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C0KsY8PvCwp/

NEW YORK, NY (US) – Sat Jan 13, 5 pm, Bryant Park Library Steps. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C145mA_Jido/

OAKLAND, CA (US) – Sat Jan 13, 5 am, West Oakland BART, Port Shutdown for Palestine. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1qpwPaLsLY/

OLYMPIA, WA (US) – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Heritage Park, 5th Ave SW. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1xUYlRPtRc/

PETALUMA, CA (US) – Sat Jan 13 (every Saturday), 12:30 pm, Petaluma Blvd and East Washington. Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/362661229552435/

PORTLAND, OR (US) – Sat Jan 13, 6 pm, Protest Michael Rapoport, Helium Comedy Club, 1510 SE 9th Ave. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1nDhO7vNM4

SACRAMENTO, CA (US) – Sat Jan 13, 1pm, State Capital, West Steps. Info: https://sac4palestine.org/january-3-2024-solidary-rally-with-national-march-on-washington/

SAN DIEGO, CA (US) – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, Plaza de Panama, Balboa Park. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C13b08grRj2/

ST PAUL, MN (US) – Sat Jan 13, 2 pm, Western District Police Dept to MN State Capitol. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C12sMuQJHeh/

VIROQUA, WI (US) – Sat Jan 13, 11 am, Main St and Decker St, Weekly Vigil by Driftless Solidarity. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C1fWWvKNJlI/

WASHINGTON, DC (US) – Sat Jan 13, 1 pm, Freedom Plaza, 1325 Pennsylvania Ave NW Info: https://march4gaza.org

BUSES ACROSS THE COUNTRY to this national march from CT, FL, IL, IN, MA, MI, MO, NC, NJ, NY, OH, PA, VA and WI – get at the website

PRE-RALLY – WASHINGTON, DC – Sat Jan 13, 7 am, National Mall. Info: https://twitter.com/_FRFP_/status/1742706175114661946

HEALTH CARE WORKERS MARCH – Sat Jan 13, 10 am ,Dept of Health and Human Services, 200 Independence Ave SW. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/C10DXDiADMK/

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #antifa #antifascism #antifascist action #solidarity #end the occupation #ceasfire now

3K notes · View notes

zarameraki · 4 months

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˖°🦇 ࣪𖤐 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mention of suicide 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 bodyguard x senator’s daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 sarcastic mmc x fmc who’s tired of his bs 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 soft toji 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 toji’s not an ass for the first time 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 bathtub sex 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 5.9k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this is my first one-shot and of course it had to be about my favourite unhinged man. i promise it’s good, y’all. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

You hated being the senator’s daughter—burdened by the title you never chose. Despite the grandeur that surrounded you, you despised the life you were born into. The opulent dinners, the endless social events, and the constant scrutiny from the public were chains that bound your spirit.

If you had any spirit left to spare.

You yearned for a life of your own, away from the suffocating expectations that came with your father's political stature. You resented the polished façade you had to maintain, the carefully crafted image that hid your true self. The constant presence of the media felt like an unrelenting spotlight, casting darkness over your desire for anonymity.

The large ballroom was ablaze with sparkling lights and the murmur of conversations mingled with the soft strains of a live jazz band. You found herself at the center of attention, a reluctant participant in the grand social affair, unwillingly cornered by a persistent suitor your mother had chosen from the roster. Apparently, his family wealth and business ventures were the most fascinating topics he could think of.

You wore a forced smile and desperately sought a way out of the conversation. Your eyes darted across the room, searching for an escape route.

". . . you see, our corporation has been at the forefront of innovation for decades," the suitor boasted, gesturing expansively with his hands. "We practically built this city. My great-grandfather was a visionary, and my father has expanded our influence globally. I'm destined to take it to even greater heights."

“How wonderful,” you muttered. The suffocating aura of the suitor’s self-importance lingered in the air. Just as he reached out to place a possessive hand on your arm, a deep, graveling voice cut through the conversation.

“Careful,” warned Toji. His eyes, sharp and vigilant, locked onto your suitor’s hand, which froze in mid-air. “Take a step back, and we won’t have a problem.”

The suitor, momentarily taken aback, withdrew his hand with an affected chuckle. "Ah, my apologies. I was only admiring your bracelet. It's exquisite, really."

You shot Toji a glare as you replied, "Thank you for your compliment. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning home now. Senatorial matters to attend to, you understand."

His eyes narrowed, and he attempted to regain control of the situation. "But surely, darling, you wouldn't want to miss the grand finale of the evening. There's a surprise performance that my connections secured."

Before you could respond, Toji stepped forward, a stern expression on his face. "The evening is over, Mr. Mahito. She has other obligations to fulfill."

Mr. Mahito, a name you’d forgotten at his ‘hello,’ glared at Toji but wisely chose not to challenge the imposing figure. With a forced smile, he nodded and said, "Of course, I understand. Until next time."

As if.

Toji couldn't help but scoff under his breath, earning a side glance from you. "Does he ever run out of compliments for himself?"

You sighed. "He's harmless, Mr. Zenin. Just trying to impress, that’s all."

"Harmless, maybe, but annoying as fuck."

You eyed Toji with curiosity. "Why the sudden interest in my love life, Mr. Zenin? Jealousy, perhaps?"

He smirked, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Jealousy? Princess, I guarantee you, I'm far too professional for such bullshit.”

You shot him a playful glance. "You know, if you were a little less broody and a bit more charming, you might have a chance."

His facade cracked, and a genuine smile played on his lips, that scar stealing your attention again. "Charm has its time and place.” He opened the back door of the limousine and nudged you inside. “I prefer to keep you safe."

Toji was insufferable just as he was tall. Dressed in a compressed black t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled torso, he exuded an air of quiet intensity. The long, dark tendrils of his hair poked his half-hooded eyes that always carried a mist of amusement. He was a silent guardian who navigated seamlessly between your shadows and the limelight.

You remember the first day your father had introduced your newly assigned bodyguard. All you could do was ogle the devilishly handsome man and pray your father and his security detail didn’t hear you swallow too hard or sit with your legs clenched together.

You appreciated the fact that he was fantastic at his job. At least in the first couple of months. But after you’d started your fourth year at university, Toji practically glued himself to you.

It was like he was your shadow, and you couldn’t escape. You get it, Dad was a senator, and security is essential, but did they have to assign you the clingiest bodyguard on the planet?

You’d gone on a blind date a few weeks back with yet another pretentious finance head, and Toji had himself stationed on the table adjacent to yours. When your date had stepped out to use the bathroom, Toji leaned over the table, and you remember how his biceps had flexed and that infuriating smirk played at his lips.

"Princess," he drawled, using that irritating nickname he's given you. As if being the daughter of a senator automatically made you royalty. "You should smile more. It might help with those lines forming on your forehead."

You hoped he choked on his own smugness.

But then there were those moments when the loneliness crept in, and the isolation became too much to bear. In those moments, his sarcastic banter was a lifeline, a distraction from the weight of your responsibilities. You found yourself craving the very company you claimed to detest.

You caught him smirking as you glanced in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, you forgot about the suffocating expectations, the political games, and the constant surveillance.

It's just you and Toji.

The soft hum of the elevator filled the air as you and Toji stepped into the sleek, mirrored enclosure leading up to your apartment. You looked like you had just stepped out of a battle with a jungle cat. Your eyes, once vibrant, were now shadowed with fatigue, and your normally impeccable hair fell in disarray around your shoulders.

You sighed, the weariness evident. "I can't believe this day. Non-stop meetings, interviews, endless parties, and galas. I feel like I've been running a marathon in heels."

"Well, at least you made it out in one piece, Princess."

You fired him a tired glare. "Don't call me that. You know I hate it."

"Sure thing, Your Highness," he replied, a teasing edge in his voice.

As the elevator smoothly ascended, your legs wobbled, and you swayed slightly. Without thinking, you reached out for support, your hand landing on Toji’s muscular arm. He felt the sudden weight and turned to look at you, eyebrows raised to the roof.

"Whoa there, easy," he said, his voice softer than before.

You blushed an outlandish shade of red. "I'm sorry. I'm just so exhausted. I didn't mean to—"

Toji cut you with a grin, his tone filled with mock concern. "Princess, if you're going to faint, at least do it gracefully. No need to ruin my reputation as the best bodyguard in town."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I'm not going to faint. Just a moment of weakness. That’s possible for even women like me, you know."

He chuckled. "Well, weak moments can be dangerous, especially in this line of work. You never know who might take advantage."

The elevator pinged, announcing their arrival at your floor. You straightened up, a renewed sense of determination in your eyes. "Thanks for the concern, tough guy, but I'll manage." You punched in the key code of your apartment door, the security light flashing green. "You can head home now. I’ll be fine from here."

"Oh, absolutely, Princess. But you know the drill—protocol and all. Can't leave the precious cargo unattended until it's safely delivered to its destination."

Your patience was wearing thin as you turned and brushed chests with the jester in black. “Mr. Zenin, for the hundredth time, I don't need an escort to my front door. I can handle myself."

Toji chuckled, the sound low and teasing. "Sure, sure. But what if a rogue pigeon attacks you on your way in? Or a gust of wind blows too hard, and you lose your balance? It's a treacherous world out there."

“We are indoors. There’s no rogue pigeons or a windstorm.”

Toji wore his stubbornness alongside his pride. “Just doin’ my job.”

You sighed, realizing arguing with him was futile. "Fine, come in if it makes you feel better, but then you're leaving."

"Sure," he said, holding the door open with a flourish as you entered the sterile, monochromatic apartment. From the high ceilings to the marble flooring, it was all your mother’s idea. For God’s sake, it was your apartment. You wanted earthly tones, Persian rugs, and a cat. A European tabby. You have wanted it since the day you were born because being an only child was like living in a house full of ghosts.

Your heels hit the floor with a muted thud, and your shawl cascaded down in a haphazard swirl as you brushed it off your shoulders. You sunk into the plush armrest of the couch, sighing deeply as you closed your eyes, attempting to shake off the fatigue that clung to you like a second skin. You were beginning to regret the three glasses of champagne to tune out tonight’s event.

"So, I’m guessing you’ve got another glamorous night in the political arena tomorrow, huh?" Toji asked.

You opened your eyes, your gaze meeting his, and managed a weak smile. "You have no idea. Sometimes, I feel like I'm caught in a never-ending dance of smiles and handshakes."

He pushed himself off the doorframe and strolled toward you. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a decent dance partner. Just not sure about my smile and handshake skills."

You wanted to tell him he had a nice smile, that the scar really added a touch of mystery to him—a mystery that kept you on your toes. He also had really large hands that you found yourself staring at during meetings or drives.

You ran a hand through your hair, loosening a few strands that framed your face. Toji’s eyes lingered on you, a subtle appreciation in his stare. Without thinking, he stepped in front of you, his fingers gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

"You've got a talent for getting yourself into these messes, Princess," he remarked, his voice low and intimate. His touch lingered, brushing against your cheek and then down to your neck. Unintentionally, his fingers traced the soft skin.

Your breath caught, the unexpected contact sending a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes, finding a silver of vulnerability in his usually cheeky behavior. For a moment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Toji, realizing the accidental breach of boundaries, withdrew his hand, mumbling, "Got a bit carried away there."

Your tired eyes softened with a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "It's okay, Mr. Zenin. Just . . . let's just chalk it up to exhaustion.”

He straightened up. "Yeah, exhaustion. That's exactly it."

Nodding, you stood from your spot and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “You can see yourself out."

He raised a fascinated brow at the gesture, the scar curling up in a half-smile.

As you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling of Toji’s calloused fingertips circling from your ear, knuckles softly brushing your cheekbone and down to your neck. The sensation lingered, sending shivers down your spine.

You entered the bathroom, the cool tiles beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth building within you, turning on your bathtub’s faucet. The running water drowned out your racing thoughts as you undressed. Your fingers traced the curves of your body, and your eyes, filled with self-doubt, studied your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The image staring back at you was proof of years of dieting imposed by your mother's relentless pursuit of the perfect political image.

You sighed, shoulders slumping, yet the boulders of burden settled upon them refused to fall. As you raised your head, you caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection behind you. “What the f—” A chill ran down your spine as you turned around, heart pounding.

There, in the doorway, stood Toji, his green gaze fixed on your face.

“What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, wrapping your arms protectively around your breasts, hand covering your lower region.

Toji’s eyes softened, his usual sarcasm substituted by concern. "I heard you talking to yourself. Thought you might need some company."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That's not an invitation to barge in!"

“I'm your bodyguard, and part of my job is to make sure you're secure, even if it means guarding you in your own bathroom.”

“I'm perfectly safe in my own bathroom. Besides, you're not my babysitter."

Obviously, he ignored you and took a step closer to the tub, his eyes never leaving yours. He turned off the faucet just as the water was at the perfect level. His hand dipped in the steaming water. “Hot.”

“Oh my god, get out!”

“Get in.”

“What?”

“Get your ass in the tub.”

You rolled your eyes but didn't back down. "I'm not getting into that bathtub with you hovering over me like a hawk."

Toji sighed exasperatedly.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by a crack in his patience. "What's so urgent that you can't leave me alone for five minutes?"

He hesitated for a moment before smirking. "I want to wash your hair."

"Wash my hair?" you echoed.

"Yeah. I heard it's the latest trend in personal security."

You shouldn’t have chuckled, but you did anyway. Everything about this situation had blown out of proportion, escalated from zero to a million, and put an interesting mark on your otherwise professional relationship with your bodyguard.

Toji extended his hand, a silent invitation. You were at his beck and call in five seconds, lowering your hands from your bare body, and not once did he check you out. However, the tick in his jaw and the subtle flare of his nostrils easily gave him away. You accepted his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours—his touch was firm yet gentle. You gingerly stepped into the embrace of the steaming water, sinking low until it covered your shoulders.

Toji wet your hair before squeezing a handful of shampoo into his palm, his hands strong yet gentle as he began to work the lather into your hair. His fingers moved in rhythmic circles, massaging your scalp with a skill that spoke of experience. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warm water, created a cocoon of comfort. The tension in your shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a strange but welcome calm.

"Seriously, though, why are you doing this?” you asked. “Bodyguards aren't typically known for their hairdressing skills."

Toji flashed a wry grin. "Rumor has it that a well-groomed princess is a happy princess. Plus, it's in the fine print of the bodyguard handbook—section 37, subsection B: 'Haircare Duties.'"

“But I’m not a princess.”

“Not to me,” he murmured.

As the water streamed down your back, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the tranquility of his caretaking. "Mr. Zenin," you whispered, your voice a gentle hum, "this is a side of you I never knew existed."

He chuckled softly, continuing to pour water over your hair. "I wear many hats, Princess. Tonight, I'm just Toji."

Your eyes opened, meeting his gaze. “Toji.”

He paused for a moment, his hands still in your hair. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of lingering water droplets leaving the faucet. You could feel the shift in his demeanor, a subtle tenseness that hadn't been there before. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.

He cleared his throat, a nervous habit you had never noticed before. “First time you’ve said my name.”

Oh.

In a daring move, Toji let his fingers linger on your neck, his touch feather-light. Your breath hitched in your throat, or maybe it was his hand curling around your trachea that stopped it. He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours. If he kissed you now, you would never look at your bathtub as a source of taking your own life again. If he kissed you now, you would never look at him the same again. If he kissed you now, you’d drown in it. It would be the only time you willingly would without coming back up for air at the last minute.

Your hand reached up and cupped the back of his head as a green sign. Toji leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. The world seemed to hold its breath as he lingered there for a moment. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he parted your mouth with his tongue, seeking permission, and you welcomed him wholeheartedly.

But as quick as the kiss happened, the quicker he pulled back.

“Fuck.”

Your heart sunk.

Fuck, indeed.

Confusion and hurt flickered across your face as you struggled to comprehend the sudden twist in your actions. You hadn't considered the consequences, the potential risks that a romantic entanglement could pose to both of you. The weight of your privilege and his responsibility pressed heavily on both of your shoulders. "Toji, I thought . . .”

He suddenly stood, and you reached out with your hand, grazing his arm, frightened that he was going to walk away and leave you wallowing alone in your guilt. "Well, well," he drawled, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sardonic smile. Slowly, he tilted your chin up with a gentle touch. "I never thought I'd see the day when the senator's daughter would be so desperate for her bodyguard's attention."

A flush of embarrassment crept up on your cheeks, and you tried to pull away, but Toji’s grip on your chin remained firm.

“Desperation suits you, Princess," he continued, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place. "But remember, we're playing with fire here."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Zenin. Who kissed who first?"

His laughter echoed throughout the bathroom. "Touché, sweetheart. Touché."

You lowered your eyes, hugging your knees to your chest. “Whatever. You can leave now.”

“Leave? Not a fucking chance.” Toji’s boisterous laugh made you jump. He started taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. “It’s your turn to wash my hair.”

“W-What?”

He responded by unbuckling his belt and lowering his trousers, leaving him in his boxer briefs. Your hands covered your eyes when he was completely naked and incredibly erect. “What, you’ve never seen a naked man before, Princess?”

“Once,” you mumbled. You weren’t a virgin, a secret only you knew. It was during the first-year of university when you’d hooked up with one of your mother’s best friend’s son. Both your families had high hopes of an engagement, but you were against the idea. Thank goodness for that. He’d lasted about five minutes into the sex before collapsing on top of you. It was a painful disaster.

“You just signed a man’s death wish,” Toji said, settling into the tub with you. The water sloshed around him, cascading over the edges of the tub and creating small puddles on the marble floor.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper breathlessly.

"Taking a bath? Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be mean." He reclined against the tub's porcelain edge, the water clinging to the contours of his muscular frame. “Why are you so far away? Come here.”

Your body defied your intentions as it glided away from the corner, moving towards him. His left leg extended while the right one bent, with the cap of his knee emerging from the water. Your small hand cradled it, guiding you closer until you were seated just inches away from his erection.

Toji splashed water over your face, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Toji!”

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” He tilted his head back, accentuating the chiseled contours of his jaw. His chest resonated with laughter. “You’re so pretty when you blush for me.” His large hand slithered to your nape and tugged you forward, claiming your lips in a feverish, powerful kiss, where his teeth pulled your bottom lip and sucked on it. It frustrated you that, once again, he broke away first, leaving you to whimper. “Turn around. On all fours.”

The questions fizzled out on your tongue. “Are you going to . . .”

“Fuck you?” He arched an eyebrow, the damp strands of his hair swaying in sync with the tilt of his head. “Fuck yes.” His lashes lowered, giving his eyes a dangerously dark glint. “Unless you don’t want me—”

“No!” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “No, I never . . . I want you to.”

“To what?”

Oh, he was really a dick. “I . . . want you to fuck . . me.”

He wet his bottom lip. “How do you want me to fuck you, sweet girl?”

Your chest rose and fell in synchrony with the ebb and flow of the situation. “I don’t know. I’ve only had sex once.”

“Baby, there’s a major difference between having sex and being fucked.”

On cue, your legs instinctively clenched in an attempt to find relief. “Are you clean?”

Toji raked his fingers through his hair and made a spinning gesture with his finger. Your body followed the motion, turning away from him and gripping the tub’s edge. “Wanna know a secret, Princess?”

“Uh, sure.”

The heat emanating from his chest pressed against your back. “I got a check-up the day I was assigned to you.” A sentence that visibly made you shudder. Of course, the insufferable bastard had planned this circumstance ahead. “I knew that sooner or later, I’ll have the senator’s daughter naked and needy underneath me. That I’ll have my cock buried deep within the tight walls of her sweet, sweet pussy, as she milks every last bit of my come. That I’ll watch as it drips out her hole and down her soft thighs.” He extended his arm and delicately lifted the drain plug with his fingers, allowing the water to gracefully swirl away from the bathtub. “I jerked off to the thought almost every night.”

“So, you accepted this job just to get a chance to sleep with me?” Your confidence tanked, and your body prepared itself to leave the tub. “Go to hell—”

Toji wrapped his palm around your hair three times, pulling it taut as he drew you back, pressing you firmly against his chest. “I wasn’t finished talking.”

“Let me go!”

“Know what I do when I escort you to your apartment, Princess?” He wasn’t gentle with cuffing his hands around your neck, immediately silencing you. “I wait like a fucking dog outside until you’re asleep. Then, I walk back in, clean up around your kitchen and living room because you’re too tired to do your chores, and after playing your maid, I tuck you into bed. I watch you sleep, even letting you hold onto my hand, until the moon exchanges for the sun. And I’ve been doing this for the past six fucking months.” He jerks your head to the side, his glare cold and cutting. “So, no, Princess, I didn’t accept this damn job to fuck you. This was just a side perk.”

"Oh," was all you could manage to say. The mystery behind the polished kitchen sink, the mugs and dishes neatly stowed away, the meticulously organized closet, and the unexpected peaceful nights of sleep settling within you finally unraveled. The source of your newfound stability, one that encouraged you to gradually wean off your anti-anxiety medication, was none other than your bodyguard who, unbeknownst to you, had been quietly tending to your well-being in the shadows.

Toji's gruff voice murmured near your ear, interrupting your contemplation. "You're mine, not only in body but in soul, sweet girl. No one—absolutely no-fucking-one—gets to lay a finger on you when I'm around. I won't let you out of my sight, not even for a moment."

You nod, curving your cheek and giving him a simple, soft kiss. “Will you wash me afterward?”

“Every time.”

“Will you sleep alongside me?”

“Every night.”

“And day?”

“Every day.”

“You promise?”

Toji didn’t answer, and you didn’t want to push the fantasy any further given your roles.

You’d made up your mind and rested your head back on his shoulder, a smile naturally splaying at your lips. “Don’t hold back, big guy.”

Toji kissed the side of you neck and nudged you forward so you were gripping the tub’s edge once again. His calloused, rough hand ran down your spine and settled on one-half of your ass. “So soft here.” He delivered a forceful slap, firmly grasping the flesh between his nails, stretching your skin taut, then spanking you again and again and again until your pussy was practically salivating for his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so wet already, baby.” He spat on his fingers and slipped through the slit of your soaking pussy, circling your swollen clit in fast motions. “When’s the last time anyone’s fucked this neglected pussy? Made you spread your legs and rubbed your pretty, puffy clit?” You moaned and broke into choppy gasps, pushing your ass closer to his fingers. “Your private tutor didn’t teach you a lesson on patience?”

“Toji, please.”

“Shh. I know, I know.” He mocked your desperation, gathering your hair in his fist. “Let’s see how many fingers my sweet girl can take.” Toji drove in two digits before you could blink, a maniacal chuckle escaping him as he skillfully moved them in and out, savoring the sounds of your pleasure-filled cries. “Yes, baby. Oh, yes. One more, okay?” His ring finger forced itself in, eliciting a groan from both of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He rested his thick fingers inside your warmth for a minute, feeling you clench and suck him in.

“Toji— Too much—”

“Not enough, sweet girl.” He began moving, easily hitting the spot that had your toes curling inwards. “You can take it, baby. I know you can take it.” You proved him by grinding back on his palm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Such a good girl.” The squelching sounds crowded the bathroom, your release seeping out of you without you knowing. You cried out as he relentlessly thrusted his digits, gathering your sticky mess on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. “Taste how sweet you are.”

Your mouth covered his slick, white-coated fingers, tongue wrapping around them and suckling them deep towards the recesses of your throat. The sounds of you gagging made him grunt and sink his fingers ever further before pulling them out abruptly, strings of your saliva and release bridging the space in between.

Toji, with a sly grin, licked his fingers clean, shooting a playful wink at your flushed and flustered demeanor. “Delicious.”

Arm around your waist, Toji easily carried you back and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling his sturdy thighs. A rugged exhale escaped his lips, akin to someone who had endured a grueling day of manual labor. With muscles flexed, he extended his arms on either side, creating a protective barrier around the edge of the tub.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in your figure.

“Thank you.”

“No, baby. You don’t say “thank you” to me if I compliment you. You say “I know,” and move the fuck on.” He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, cupping the side of your waist. You jumped when he flicked at your stone-hard nipple. “You’re sensitive there, huh?”

You mumbled, “Everywhere.”

“Speak up, sweetheart.”

“Everywhere,” you said with a volume that made him tip his head back and study you through the hooded slit of his eyes. “What you did, with your fingers, it felt good. Really good.”

“I know,” he replied, winking. “Want me to make you feel fucking fantastic, sweet girl?”

You nod, anticipating his next—

“Sit on it,” he said languidly.

“What?”

“Sit on my cock, Princess.”

He truly had a way with his words.

And you had grown accustomed to them.

Rising on your knees, you stumbled forward and aligned yourself on his ramrod erection, white beads of pre-cum leaking from the pink tip. He gripped the base of it, allowing you to sink down on his long, girthy length.

“Shit,” he breathed out, head lulling back.

“You’re—You’re too big.” The words strained out of you as you sought a comfortable position to move in. “Oh, God. Toji, I don’t think—”

He swallows your following words with his lips, cradling your flushed face in his hands. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Get yourself comfortable because, in a minute, I’ll make you forget the word ever existed.”

“Oh, God.”

“Toji, baby. The name’s Toji. Fucking say it.”

“T-Toji . . . ”

He lowered his head and grasped your left breast, fondling it like a stress ball as if his stress levels were beyond the roof. You mewled when he pinched your nipple and stretched it out, heating it between his fingers. His lips latched onto your right breast, cheeks concaving as he sucked hard.

You were a lost cause at that point, watching him nibble the swollen bud between his teeth, giving you that devilish smirk. “Fuck, baby. Your nipple tastes so sweet.” His tongue circled around it, pulling it taught in his mouth. “Maybe I should make you a mother just so I get to taste the milk that’ll leak from them.”

“You’re so dirty,” you whispered, ignoring the sudden film reel of you and Toji and your children gathered around a Christmas tree in an apartment smaller than this, in a life quieter and more private than yours. You needed clinical help.

“I know you’re thinking it.” He released your nipple with a pop and kissed your lips. “Soon, sweetheart.”

Soon?

Toji didn’t allow you to overthink anymore before grappling your ass and raising it high off his cock, until only his tip remained in you. “Hold on tight.”

He pounded you down.

You yelped and stabbed your nails into his shoulders, shouting out, “Fucking hell!” which, obviously, made him burst out laughing, all while ramming you down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt.

“Toji—ah!”

Tears streaked down your cheeks, which he quickly wiped away with his tongue, kissing each eye as if it were your mouth. He thrusted up into you in a staccato rhythm, gripping your nape to keep you steady in place. Your high-pitched whines and empty complaints fueled him to push both of your limits.

“Don’t let this get to your head,” Toji gritted out, a layer of cockiness in his voice, “but I’ve never once fucked anyone in this position.”

Well, that made you feel special, you supposed.

Actually, it made you want to try harder to please him. If you did well tonight, you could try every position in his book. So, you pressed your hands against his pecs and swirled your hips in circles, slowing his thrusts so you could take control. He was fascinated by your body, by your sudden superiority, settling his hands on your waist while you rode him insistently.

“Look at you riding my cock, baby,” Toji muses. “Look at you go. Just like that, come on. I know you can move faster.” He admired the movement of your breasts, the sweat-beads that crystallized on your skin, how your drowsy eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt his cock twitch uncontrollably within your hot, sticky walls, felt the thick tip of it penetrate the spot that pushed you to the precise of your orgasm.

But your exhaustion caught up to you faster than your climax, causing your body to grow limp and slump against his chest. Toji embraced you, settling one hand on the back of your head and the other on your ass.

“You did well, baby,” he whispered into your hair.

“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t come.”

“Neither did you.”

You nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck, circling your shaky arm around his strong neck. “I’m close, Toji. I’m almost there. I promise.”

That’s all it took for him to drive back up into you, grunting expletives and praises in your ear—fuck, oh, fuck, ah, fuck, such a good girl, my sweet fucking girl, oh, your pussy is so tight, so pretty, made just for my cock—while holding you flush against his sweaty chest. You kissed his temple and clutched his hair, breathing in the scent of your lavender-honey shampoo and his natural musk. He continuously mumbled, “Come on, baby, come on. Come for me. Come on my cock, sweet girl.”

And you did. With a cry that hitched in your throat, with your nails dragging down his shoulder blades, with his teeth sunk into your neck, with your bodies sweat-struck and panting like wild horses.

Toji drew you back and ran a hand on your cheek, brushing away the damp strands sticking to your cheek. “Good?”

You breathed out through your open mouth, the organ inside your chest hammering to break out. “Fan . . . tastic.”

He smiled warmly, not the arrogant-cocky kind you were used to receiving, and pressed his lips to yours. No tongue, nothing. Just a simple, chaste kiss. “Time to wash up, Princess.”

Switching from the tub to the shower stall, you began to wash Toji’s hair with your lavender-honey shampoo. You anticipated his complaints, but all he did was sit silently on the seat, using a loofa to clean your body. He complimented the curves of your figure, even taking a sneaky nip at your breast, then chuckling at your reaction. Like a gentleman, he dried off your wet body, combed through your wet hair as he blow-dried it, and then it was his turn, but of course, he forced you onto his lap while you did.

“How’d you get this scar?” you asked as you two lay in your bed, naked with your limbs tangled with each other. For the past hour, all you’ve done is trace your finger over his brows, his sharp, pointed nose, and his lips. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“Family. That’s all.”

“Okay,” you whispered, snuggling your face under his jaw and wrapping your arm around his torso as far as you can.

“You’re clingy, aren’t ya’?” he teased, hooking your leg over his hip.

“Was I too out of character for you, Mr. Zenin?”

You felt his smile on your crown accompanied. “You’re not a character, Princess. You’re a real person.” His hug around your sore body tightens as if you’re about to escape any minute. “It’s overwhelming how real you are, Y/N.”

“Did you just call me by name?”

He raised a brow, voice laced with charming sarcasm. “Was I too out of character for you, Y/N?”

Your hand cupped his cheek, stroking the scar by his lip. “You’re perfect, Toji.” You kissed the wound, the middle of his lips, and the tip of his nose for a good measure.

“Stop acting cute and sleep, Princess. You’ve got a tea party in the morning.”

Groaning, you decompress in his hold. “Goodnight, Toji.”

“Night, sweet girl. Dream of me.”

“You, too.”

“Always.”

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becauseplot · 6 months

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Philza Minecraft is a survivalist.

Everyone knows this. He's the "Hardcore guy." He's an expert in the inner-workings of the natural world. He's vigilant. He knows how to hold his own in a fight, and he knows when to cut his losses, too. He knows how to keep himself alive. By extension, he knows how to keep his team alive as well. It only makes sense that they elect him as the leader of red team.

Philza Minecraft is a team player.

This is why he's always happy to go grinding for materials when the team needs it. Even if he tends to get a little distracted sometimes, wandering too far, forgetting to check global chat or talk in the team vc, he checks in with his friends and does what he can to keep morale up when everyone is feeling down. He recognizes the ease with which Cellbit operates in this environment, so he lets the man call some of the shots, or give Phil instructions. After all, Cellbit led the Ordo for months. Phil trusts his judgement. Why not play to their strengths?

Philza Minecraft is an adapter.

His biome doesn’t matter, nor his circumstances, nor his equipment. He’s started over more times than he can count. Working under stress isn’t something that hinders him, nor changing environments. If the game of the day is complete the tasks, he can complete the tasks. If the game of the day is kill a player, he can kill a player. He might hate it, but he can do it. For the sake of his friends, of his team, of his kids, and of their collective survival, he can do it.

There is something else worth mentioning.

Philza Minecraft is a liar.

Oh, but you’ll never catch him in a lie, because it’s never what he does say. It’s what he doesn’t. It’s the details he omits. It’s the parts of the tale that he glosses over so that the bedtime story isn’t quite so scary. He’ll give you everything he wants you to have and hold the rest of it close to his chest. Or, more accurately, he'll slam it in a locked box and shove it under his bed with the rest of his monsters.

He was an asset to the Empire.

Back then, he always asked the right questions: not "why," but "how," and "when." Back then, he knew he was valuable, so he kept himself alive. Back then, "the Angel of Death" wasn't so much a nickname as it was a title he earned. A rank.

He never became a general. The promotion was there, and he was more than qualified, he just never took it. He was content to let his friend take the helm, because Phil knew what he was.

"Knew." "Was." Was, was, was. (Come on, now, Phil. Don't be daft.)

Philza Minecraft is a liar; the man he lies to the most is himself. Yes, Purgatory is fucked and twisted, and he hates what it forces him to do, but not because it's hard. No. Because it's far too easy.

At the end of the day, what matters most is that Philza Minecraft is an arrow. Let someone else nock him in a bow. Let someone else draw him back, point him in a direction, let him loose, soar, fly. Resources, gear, tasks, points, kills, blood---it makes no difference. Philza Minecraft won't stop until he hits his target.

#qsmp philza #qsmp purgatory #character study #I FINALLY GOT MY THOUGHTS ABOUT QPHILZA AND PURGATORY INTO SOMETHING COHERENT ENOUGH TO POST SOMETHING ABT IT #EVERYONE CLAP AND CHEER #philza rp characters are always support roles!! he is the thunder to the lightning in every context!!! can anyone hear me!!!!!#dont mind me im just rambling #my writing

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tikkunolamresistance · 3 months

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On Houthi and Yemen, and Antisemitism in revolutionary spaces...

We've been observing the response to our statement showing support for Yemen's aid in Palestinian resistance- specifically where we said "Glory to Yemen", as there's certainly a lot more to it than that.

Houthi and Yemen are not mutually exclusive: the country of Yemen and its people, civilians, have been bombed and murdered by the western nations for decades- in which the last FOUR United States Presidents have sanctioned and bombed Yemen.

Houthi, more officially known as Ansar Allah ('supporters of G-d'), are a militant organisation that emerged in the 90s but rose to prominence in 2014 when the group rebelled against Yemen's government. The rebellion caused the official governing body to step down, in hand causing a demobilizing humanitarian crisis.

You can read more about Houthi here:

And more on why they are attacking ships entering the Red Sea here:

It's true, Houthi are Antisemitic and we do NOT support Houthi. Their slogan is quite literally "curse the Jews"; Houthi are not our revolutionary comrades for there is no revolution in hatred and division. Their direct action on Israeli ships subsequently disrupting trade is undeniably important to disrupting the flow of capital and aiding the Palestinian resistance movement- but Houthi deserve no special recognition. Yemen has seen expulsion of Jewish people from the land for centuries, and the Antisemitism that Houthi carries forth is the same hatred that displaced Jewish people within Yemen's history.

Web archive from the Yemen Times about the treatment of Jews in Yemen and Houthi's views.

Within revolutionary spaces you must approach everything with a critical lens, and it goes without saying, especially now more than ever. Whilst we can recognize Houthi's direct action in hindering trade, and the promise there, aids the Palestinian cause by putting pressure on the Capitalist hegemony- we must equally affirm that antisemitism is unacceptable. To punish every Jewish person for Zionist crimes is unacceptable and a hinderance itself in revolutionary spaces. We cannot and will not allow Houthi's Antisemitic ideology to be regurgitated.

Leftists, Communists- recognising Antisemitism within Leftist spaces does not automatically corelate to giving grace to Israel- you must recognise that Judaism, Zionism and Israel are not mutually exclusive. The use, and bastardization of, Jewish symbology by Zionism and it's propaganda machine has long since blurred those lines, and thus it's integral to remain critical and vigilant. Even when Zionists proudly conflate the two to endorse the State of Israel's brutality- you should not deem the acts in and of itself Jewish. There is absolutely nothing Jewish about apartheid, colonialism and hatred.

Antisemitism is an age-old hatred, with the oppressive colonial state of Israel depending on it for survival. When we uproot Antisemitism, when we uproot oppression, division, hatred- we uproot the State of Israel and the Capitalist hegemony itself.

Antisemitism has no place in revolutionary spaces, and as is the case for any other form of discrimination and hatred- it cannot be ran from, only faced head-on. The solution to uprooting Antisemitism from global social infrastructure is not to enforce a new hatred, it is not to oppress another- for the cycle will only continue. We believe that society must educate one another to thus educate our future generations; we must ensure we remove division and hatred from social order, and that includes all forms of hatred.

Division itself must be dissolved to truly revolutionize social order.

#yemen #palestine #tikkun olam statement #free palestine #antisemitism #jumblr #antizionism #critical thought #critique #essay #media literacy #geopolitics

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky x y/n

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rainbowsky · 28 days

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Hey, I'm new here and i love your blog! I was wondering if the boys see couple\sexual edits of them together and if it makes them nervous but then it hit me that they probably aren't seeing what i see on western social media. Do you have any idea if those types of homosexual posts get censored in China?

Hi Yingyangorly! Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog!☺️

I have a huge long, like, ridiculously long post in my drafts related to this topic, hopefully coming soon.

But to answer your question, I think it's impossible that GG and DD would fail to see at least some of what's posted about them as a couple, whether sent to them by friends, family or staff, or whether stumbled upon or intentionally sought out/browsed by them. It's inevitable they'll see some of it, particularly things that get a lot of attention.

I talked about this a bit a while back. GG and DD have said in interviews that they have fake social media accounts (and of course they would - how could you go anywhere or do anything on social media without one if you were famous?), and this kind of discussion has happened somewhat in relation to fan comments, etc.

You can check out my previous post for more on that stuff.

As for sexual edits, etc., like any other content I've no doubt they've seen some of it - it's inevitable they would - but I doubt it worries them all that much. It's highly unlikely to ever impact them directly, because ultimately it's not really about them, is it? It's about the creators who make it. Any backlash is more likely to fall upon creators, not GG and DD.

And just as a reminder - it's not illegal to be gay in China, it's not illegal to post homosexual content, etc. Such content is censored on TV and other broadcast media, but not online.

Porn is very illegal in China, but that's mostly only selectively enforced. In fact, China produces a lot of porn and a lot of smutty fiction and all of it is illegal, but it still manages to thrive fairly well.

Explicit content of any kind is technically not allowed on Weibo but it's still out there - although most of it is pretty toned down and tame. Actual porn of sexual activity isn't ubiquitous there, but lewd fan art, fan fic, edits and memes can often be found.

All platforms globally have rules against explicit content, and they're just as poorly enforced everywhere. I suspect a lot of that is because social media engagement makes money, and sex sells. It's not really in the interest of platforms to completely shut down all such content - even if it was possible to do so.

The supertopic rules likely have more impact on fan behavior in this regard than the Weibo TOS does. Those rules forbid mentioning GG and DD by name or tagging their accounts, and forbid sexualization, pornography, feminization and fixating on body parts. However, that's only within the supertopics. Ultimately people are free to post whatever they want on their own accounts, and they do.

Given how many antis and solos are out there trying to take down the turtle fandom, the fact that these things manage to stay up for as long as they do speaks to how weak the enforcement is. There are definitely people out there who will report things that offend them.

This is, in fact, how the whole 227 thing got started. A bunch of solos decided to report an explicit fanfic to the government, and things spiralled out of control from there.

Could lightning strike a second time and another 227 be sparked from some of this explicit content? For a lot of complicated reasons I'm not going to get into here (it would be a very long post), I don't think that's likely.

227 was a special, very complicated situation that I don't think is likely to happen the same way again. Timing and a lot of the other factors that played into its blowing up the way it did - all of that is unlikely to align in such a way. Especially since everyone in C-ent is a lot more cautious and vigilant after 227.

GG and DD are both in good standing with the government (as is evidenced by their inclusion in government and nationalistic projects), and that's a factor that will have some influence. And no doubt they and their teams have learned a lot from past experience, and have already planned for how to protect them in various scenarios that could arise.

They also have the power to have content relating to them removed, to sue content creators, to shut down the supertopics if they want to, etc.. If they feel at risk, they have a lot of recourse. The fact that we aren't seeing this happening should reassure us that it's probably fine.

We have to realize that GG and DD are surrounded by highly skilled, highly paid professionals whose entire job is to protect them and their interests. They're both in a much safer place than they were 4 years ago.

I trust them to know what's best for them and handle their affairs accordingly. We as fans shouldn't waste time hand-wringing over things that are completely outside our control.

As for what's within our control - it's up to every individual to make our own choices about how we'll represent GG and DD online.

More on that angle if/when I ever finish that other post.

#bjyx #yizhan #ggdd in the public eye #fandom reflections #thanks so much #bxg ggdd #ask

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readingsquotes · 2 months

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"Despite a global propaganda machine working overtime to tell us that targeting hospitals is not targeting hospitals and killing civilians is not killing civilians, awareness of Israel’s crimes is spreading like wildfire across the globe. This is due in no small part to the tenacity of the Palestinian armed resistance, which has managed to defy containment by Israel’s 40-mile long ‘iron wall’ and continues to resist an Israeli invasion on the ground. At the same time, Palestinian artists, writers, journalists, and academics have worked tirelessly to dismantle zionist colonization of the global- particularly Western- imaginary, with story, with song, with music, and with art. This resistance in all its forms is having ripple effects. Since October 7, people have continued to flood the streets in every nation with chants of ‘In our thousands, in our millions, we are all Palestinians.’ Josephine Guilbeau, a former member of the US military, said on Monday at a vigil for Bushnell that ‘I don’t think this is going to be the last of our military members resisting. I feel like there are many, many Aarons out there. Who will speak for them?’ Israel’s lies have long lacked legitimacy among the peoples of the Global South, and particularly the Middle East. But today Taylor Swift fans show up to protests holding signs declaring ‘Swifties for Palestine‘ and videos of lawyers proclaiming the Israeli occupation ‘existentially illegal‘ before the International Court of Justice go viral on Twitter. Palestinian journalists reporting from Gaza have bigger online followings than the US president, and buildings in the West are emblazoned with their images and quotes. In a statement responding to Bushnell’s protest the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) stated “(Bushnell’s act) indicates that the status of the Palestinian cause, especially in American circles, is becoming more deeply entrenched in the global conscience, and reveals the truth of the zionist entity as a cheap colonial tool in the hands of savage imperialism.” Israel’s legitimacy is crumbling, and it is taking the US empire with it. This is not to suggest that Israel is pulling the strings- rather, it shows how far the US is prepared to go before it will risk its hegemony in the region. The refusal of all but a handful of states to join the US-led coalition ‘Operation Prosperity Guardian’ to defeat Yemen in the Red Sea (notable among absentees was Saudi Arabia, which has since joined the BRICS group of nations alongside China, Russia and Iran) was telling. Increasingly, the imperialism of the Western media is being exposed, and voices from the Global South locating these lies within much longer histories of Western colonial violence are being heard in new ways, by a new generation. In a talk he gave on October 21st, 2023, historian Ilan Pappé stated: ‘Before October I wrote an article saying this is the beginning of the end of Zionism…after last week in fact I’m even more convinced. As happened in apartheid South Africa, this is a very dangerous period. The regime fights for its life….historically I have no doubt that this is what we are experiencing, we are experiencing cruelty and brutality because a certain regime is losing it, not because it’s winning, but because it’s losing.’ Israel’s attacks on Iran and Lebanon, attempting to lure the US into a broader regional war, are another sign of that desperation. "

In our thousands, in our millions: On Aaron Bushnell’s final act

What Aaron Bushnell did was an act of fierce, principled love in a situation of extreme desperation. It unflinchingly declared that even in the heart of the empire the lies of Zionism no longer hold.

by Britt Munro March 1, 2024

#palestine #free palestine #isreal #gaza #apartheid #genocide #colonization #us politics #aaron bushnell

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mikhailwrites · 6 months

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Time permitting / Ghost x Soap

Obligatory MWIII fixit fic. Written partially overnight and partially on the phone, sorry for the typos and grammar butchery.

⚠️MWIII spoilers!

They stumble out of the tunnel, exhausted, bruised, shot. Soap is limping by Simon’s side, leaning heavily against the other man. His left temple is covered in blood, dripping down, staining his tee.

Price and Gaz flank them, making sure that nothing comes close to harming either of them. They’re all quiet but it’s not really due to the exhaustion. The reality caught up to them. Konni. Makarov. The bomb. How close they were to a global catastrophe. Too close. Of course, if they didn’t manage to stop it, they wouldn’t be around to witness the fallout, but that’s hardly the point.

Still, it weighs heavily on all of them. On Ghost even more, perhaps. Because he came so close to losing Johnny.

Swing left, pull the trigger, compensate for the recoil, push ahead, sweep the possible cover for any hostiles. He feels Gaz on his Six, covering the right and the back as they hurry up. Price’s voice in the comm sounded urgent. He needs them.

His mind is clear and cold. He kills and kills and kills, trying to be faster while maintaining high vigilance. Simon is needed, but dead or injured would be useless. He needs to be perfect. Fast, accurate, merciless.

Heavily armoured Konni soldier waits on top of the stairs, opening fire as soon as Ghost and Gaz walk close enough.

“Fuck! Taking effective fire! Taking cover!” Ghost hollers over his shoulder as he rushes to the nearest corner. A few bullets hit him in the vest, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. Ghost waits a few seconds, listens for movement to guide him. There! Heavy footsteps on the metal stairs. The guy decided to get up close and personal, then. Good.

Because Gaz loves being close and personal with a shotgun. Point blank range renders the armour effectively useless. “Bloody good job!” Ghost nods to Gaz as the soldier falls to the ground. They make further progress but something’s off. Then he realises what it is. “You’ve got Makarov closing in on you!”

They must be close now, Ghost can hear the racket of firefight.

The moment he turns corner just after they dusted another three Tangos, his blood freezes in his veins. Makarov has a headstart. He’s closing in on Johnny who is too bloody focused on the bomb to notice. Ghost watches as that son of a bitch aims the gun, right at Johnny and takes the shot. Johnny falls to the ground. It’s like watching it in slow motion.

Ghost wants to scream. He wants to rip Makarov’s throat out with his bare hands. Instead, he takes a deep breath, pushing the stock of the rifle into his shoulder. It’ll bruise. Who gives a damn?

He doesn’t have any scope on the gun, he’ll have to make do. There’s simply no other option. Taking a deep breath, his focus tunes out anything other than the black-clad man in front of him. Simon squeezes the trigger half-way, making a final adjustment, then he takes the shot just as Makarov steps on Price.

It echoes through the tunnel like a crack of thunder. There’s a splash of red right before Makarov stumbles and falls to the ground. Ghost doesn’t have to say anything, Gaz immediately runs up to confirm the kill. Ghost runs to Johnny, sliding by his side, and frantically checking for pulse. It’s there, thank god. Then he goes on to check for the injury. Makarov must’ve hit him, the only question is where.

Gingerly turning Soap’s head where he sees blood, there’s only a graze. Fuckin’ Christ, that’s beyond lucky, that’ miraculous.

Sure enough, Johnny’s eyes open and he shots right back up. Ghost grabs him before he can stand, however. “It’s fine, it’s fine... he’s dead,” Ghost calms him down, patting him on the thigh and resting his hand there. His heart is clenching at the bewildered look in those blue eyes. Soap looks around, stopping at Makarov’s body. Just a few feet away.

Soap and Price are just standing from the bomb after they managed to defuse it. The One-Four-One did it. They stopped Makarov. Fucking heroes. Not that anyone will ever know.

“…mon… Simon?” someone summons him back into present. Johnny. Looking at him with a frown. Simon’s breath hitches. He was so close to losing him. Seconds, even. “You with us, Ghost?” Johnny smiles then. It’s weak, a mere shadow of the true smile Soap usually wears, but it still warms Ghost.

“Solid copy,” he nods.

“Good. We were just thinking about some food. I’m fuckin’ starvin’!”

Simon looks around at Price who doesn’t say or do anything and Gaz who only shrugs in response. “Yeah, sure.”

Soap is admitted to the hospital right after their meal. He insists that he’s alright but his balance is off and as lucky as he was, that wound on his head needs stitches.

However, when Price and Gaz leaves, Ghost stays. Pulling up a chair and sitting next to Johnny’s bed. The urge to hold his hand is strong and Simon is too tired to fight it.

Soap’s palm is warm and as soon as he feels Simon’s hand, he holds on it tight. “What a day, huh?” Johnny says, quiet, sombre.

“Yeah,” Ghost agrees. He feels something shift in the air. He needs to get something off his chest. Something that almost suffocated him in that tunnel. The regret. The prospect of not only losing Johnny, but losing him without ever telling him what he means to Simon. How important he is. How loved he is.

“Don’t you dare to die on me, Johnny,” he looks up, studying Soap’s face as it morphs into a mild surprise and then something akin to melancholy. Simon isn’t finished. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it. It would break me.”

It’s not a confession, exactly, but it’s close. Close enough for Soap to get the hint, squeezing Simon’s hand harder. Then he tugs at it, urging Simon closer. Once he’s standing up from the chair and looming over Johnny, Soap beckons him closer still. Until they are almost touching. Until they are touching. Until they kiss.

It’s a quiet moment, and a gentle one. When they part, Johnny’s eyes are slightly unfocused and a small smile tugs at his lips. Simon feels greedy so he steal one more peck at his lips before slowly withdrawing.

“And wear a bloody helmet next time, Johnny,” Simon says then. It’s a joke but at the same time it’s not. For now, he is simply grateful that there will be a next time.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #modern warfare iii #mw3 spoilers #cod mw3 #ghost mw2 #soap mw2

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nappingpaperclip · 4 months

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PLEASE REPOST

MARCH ON WASHINGTON FOR GAZA

1:00PM Saturday January 13th, 2024 @ The National Mall 1600 Constitution Ave. NW, Washington DC

Please wear a KN-95 mask, and wear layered nondescript clothing and COVER YOUR FACE, HAIR, AND ANY IDENTIFYING FEATURES. I have seen many people use keffiyehs for this. Dress for cold weather but know marching warms you up quickly, so dress in layers you can remove and carry without uncovering your face and hair. Ideally you should bring a backpack to carry food, water, first aid, ID, etc. It may be good to bring multiple or removable parts of your outfit if you plan on walking from your residence or car.

If you bring a phone, turn off your Face/Touch ID, location services, and data.

Have your emergency contacts written on your body. Don’t record peoples faces. Stick with a group.

Bigotry & hatred will not be tolerated.

Even if you are unable to attend or are not USAmerican, please reblog and repost this to other social medias. You may have a follower or friend who can attend.

If you live within a couple of hours of DC, or even if you live further: talk to your local organizations! It is possible they may be able to organize transportation to this event. Most likely you will have to pay a fee, but it is likely going to be cheaper and safer than driving to DC and parking in their $40-$50/hour parking garages. Also look into Amtrak, Greyhound buses, or other means of transportation.

EDIT: fixed some info, also here is the HD graphic that includes the website

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arknights-archive · 1 month

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Global 4th anniversary artbook previews

01 / 02 / 03 / 04

#global server #lunacub #ceobe #vigil #pramanix #cliffheart #istina #leto #gummy #hoshiguma #fiammetta #mostima #ch'en

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filmofhybe · 5 months

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Return to Tiffany & Co.

💍 pairing : sim jaeyun x oc 💌 GENRE : fluff, Idol x Idol 1.1k words

warning : established (hidden) relationship , not proofread

; AUTHORS NOTES : day 12🤭 of “24 days of Christmas with Filmfohybe!!” Not do Christmasy but all I can think of is hoon and Jake’s Tiffany & Co pictures from today. And how Jake said he would leaves his ring finger for his future wife. That’s all. Goodnight.

Masterlist to my other works

Was y/n and Jake expecting the invite to the event of the new launch Tiffany & Co. new jewelry set, that’s going to be attended by A-listers and luminaries from around the world? No. But the clandestine couple and global ambassadors for Tiffany & Co., found themselves at the pinnacle of elegance as they attended the highly anticipated event. Y/n, was radiating grace in a stunning silk off shoulder gown, with dazzling bright diamond necklace on her neck, rings that Jake secretly got her for their anniversaries, effortlessly commanded attention from the flashing cameras. To Jake she was the brightest among the sea of glamorous faces

While y/n posed for the camera, capturing the essence of Tiffany's timeless allure, Jake couldn't help but wear a smile that betrayed the secret they held. His eyes held an unspoken affection as he gazed at y/n, caught in the enchanting aura of y/n’s presence, whispering endearing words only audible to those closest to him. Mostly to his manager, arms crossed hoping the kid could shut his mouth before others finds out.

"Can't believe she's mine," he murmured, his voice a gentle melody amid the glamorous chaos. "she's so beautiful in that dress, please I can only image her walking down-“, “Right, Jake you need to be quiet now…” His manager glazed at him, making him apologize with a slight laugh. The paparazzi behind Jake, with their keen senses, picked up on this unguarded moment, ready to show the world the love that blossomed behind the scenes.

The attendees, attuned to the subtle dynamics between the couple, exchanged knowing glances as Jake's affectionate words soon will become an open secret. The atmosphere was charged with a romantic energy that defied the polished veneer of the event.

When the time came for joint photographs, the Tiffany & Co. staff seamlessly orchestrated the pairing of y/n and Jake. As they stood side by side, the chemistry between them ignited, manifesting in shared laughter and exchanged glances that spoke volumes.

As the staff orchestrated the perfect frame, Y/N and Jake shared a stolen glance, their eyes interlocking in a dance of affection. Their laughter, a symphony of shared moments, echoed through the opulent venue, creating a bubble where only the two of them existed. Taking candid pictures of the loving couple, without even realizing they are one…

The paparazzi lenses, like vigilant storytellers, flashes of the cameras captured not just a partnership of brand ambassadors but a tale of genuine connection. As the night continues, y/n and Jake continued to navigate the event with grace and charm,

“Do you like this one more or this one.” Cameras flashing as Jake points to the rings he was showing to y/n. “As cheesy as it sound, I like you more.” Staffs felt like watching a kdrama unfolding in front of them as they watch the lovely couple in secret. Their shared glances and subtle touches revealing a love story that sparkled as brightly as the diamonds they represented. leaving the world enamored with the authenticity that sparkled brighter than any diamond in Tiffany's collection.

#kflixnet #k films #k neighborhood #k lables #🥥 하이브의 영화 #⛸️*.❅·🧣⋆ 24 days of christmas with filmofhybe #enhypen jake #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #shim jake fluff #jake imagines #jake sim imagines #jake x reader #jake fluff #jake sim x reader #enhypen smau

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alezangona · 2 months

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The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 9 - The Monster and His Master

Part 8 | Part 10

Notes: Definitely NSFW

The next few months pass by in a blur, albeit a productive one. Khansar’s funds are carefully allocated across various administrations with special emphasis placed on programs pertaining to education, public health, and infrastructure. The government’s focus on foreign policy allows them to settle contracts with various energy management companies across the world to provide solutions for the electrical and water shortages occurring in their external agricultural territories. The continuous expansion of global strategies provides opportunities for reallocation of employment through various industries including manufacturing and trade, though Khansar stays vigilant in maintaining a diplomatic image by hiding its more profitable ventures away from prying eyes.

Change doesn’t come as fast as Varadha initially hopes, the truth being that mistakes occur more frequently than not and it is enough to give him pounding headaches that won’t subside. Moments of high stress are all it takes for him to retreat into himself, gaze faraway as he analyzes every possible solution over and over, a heaviness settling into the line of his shoulders.

During breakfast one morning, when Varadha is toying more with his food than eating it, Baba finally cracks.

“The responsibility of this kingdom is not yours alone, Beta. There are entire organizations and administrations working alongside you to find solutions to the issues we are facing. Let them do their jobs, while you do yours. Not every burden is yours to bear.” Then he lets out a small smile. “Anyway, it’s important for you to learn the importance of a good stroll over a hasty run. What you’re doing now is establishing a strong foundation for Khansar’s growth and longevity. Take that for granted and you’ll give way for its fall.”

Varadha doesn’t finish his breakfast that morning and he doesn’t miraculously stop worrying either. Still, he begins to notice just how much people care. It isn’t just his face worn from sleepless nights and early mornings. It isn’t just his eyes that contain a spark of determination in the face of challenges.

The reassurance is enough to let him sleep a bit more peacefully at night. It also helps that he feels less alone than he has in years. Particularly in moments of leisure that are spent in the presence of his loved ones.

Morning garden strolls with Baba as he talks about his life and his Noor.

When she’d leave for her business meetings, I wouldn’t know how to handle myself. So anxious and restless till she came home. Time used to stand still without her, but in her presence, every day would pass by faster than a strike of lightning, and just as beautiful too. I’ve had years with her… it still doesn’t feel like it was enough time. She’d be proud of you, if she was here to see you now.

Afternoon chaturanga sessions with Baachi as he curses out Varadha for winning every round.

I still look over my shoulders sometimes, waiting for someone to fuck with us. We’ve endured years of humiliation and it feels like there’s more to withstand. I’m still not used to the way people look at us with respect when we leave the palace. I’m thankful for what we have Anna, and I’m scared to lose it too— Fuck! Again? What’s the point in playing with me when you keep winning anyway?

Evening movie nights with Deva as they curl up on the couch, shedding their responsibilities and falling into domesticity.

I don’t know how I did it, but I’ve managed to convince Amma to come back to Khansar. I think the only reason she’s even budging is because I’ve been begging her to come back with me and telling her it’ll be different under your rule. Even then, she’s hesitant about staying anywhere in the capital. I don’t know if I can convince her to stay in the palace, not without putting her ill at ease. After everything she’s done for me, I have to draw the line on her behalf at some point. I’m thinking of getting her a place at the outskirts of town. I’m going to hate not seeing you every night, though.

That doesn’t end up becoming a problem for too long. The first night that Deva stays away at his mother’s new house, Varadha tosses and turns for hours on end, restful sleep alluding him. His cranky mood the next morning has the entire palace walking on eggshells. That is, until Deva enters the council room later on in the day for one of their meetings. They stay on different ends of the room, but when their gazes meet, the exhaustion drains visibly from their bodies and the palace is able to breathe once more.

“Come home with me tonight?” Deva asks once they leave the room, walking shoulder to shoulder. Varadha’s step falters for a second before he goes back to matching Deva’s stride.

“What?” Varadha carefully observes their surroundings, staying alert until he’s sure there’s no one else around them.

“For dinner, you idiot.” Deva’s lips quirk. “Not some clandestine meeting of lovers.”

“Can’t fault me for checking, Bangaram. I never can tell what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours.” Varadha shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.

“Yes, because I’m dying for a chance to ravish you in my mother’s home.” Deva rolls his eyes, but takes a step closer to him anyway, bending down so his gravelly voice can whisper. “Though… why bother with the wait when I can fuck you in that closet instead?”

~*~

The first dinner at Amma’s ends up being more awkward than Varadha thought possible. As inviting as she is, there’s a prying gleam in her eyes as she observes the two of them, trying to gauge what could’ve happened during the past few months for her son to willingly return to this godforsaken place. To move her here as well. He finds himself trying to impress her for some reason, telling her about all the changes he and his team are trying to bring about to the city. If he was being honest with himself, for a moment it felt like the words were being forcefully ejected from his mouth, anxiety refusing to let go of the trigger. However, when there is a lapse in conversation after dinner while they put away leftovers, Varadha catches a glimpse of Amma looking at him with a relieved expression. He doesn’t know what it means, but is able to breathe easier when she sends him off with a box of leftover chepala pulusu (fish curry) and tells him to come visit again soon.

The weekly dinners end up becoming a reprieve for Varadha when he starts to realize just how much he feels like a kid again under Amma’s roof. Gone are his responsibilities of being Karta when he steps into the threshold. She acts with him as she always had, feeding him exorbitant amounts of food, reprimanding him for not sleeping enough, and even going to the extent of massaging his scalp when he confesses to her of the pounding headache he’s suffered with for days.

His eyes close at the feeling of her fingers running through his scalp, the smell of medicinal oil oddly pleasant and soothing as she works the tension out from his muscles. Amma continues to talk to him, voice low and pleasant as she urges him to take better care of himself and something breaks inside him. A ball lodges in his throat and he can feel wetness forming behind closed lids. When they flicker open, Deva is standing in front of him, a glass of water in hand. Concern immediately clouds his features and he shifts his body forward, only to stop when Varadha discreetly shakes his head, a wobbly smile forming on his lips.

“Stay here with us tonight,” Amma commands, unaware of the plight he’s facing. “The second you go back to that palace you’ll spend the night overworking yourself and I refuse to let you run yourself into the ground. Deva, go set up the guest room and don’t let him leave till tomorrow morning.”

Later that night, once Amma is asleep, Deva sneaks into Varadha’s room, crawling into bed and holding him tight.

“Are you okay?” Deva sighs against his ears when Varadha doesn’t answer immediately. “Amma ki chadastham ekuvara, anthe (Amma is just stubborn, that’s all). I’m sorry if what she said hurt you at all.”

“No, she didn’t do anything wrong.” Varadha gulps, pressing back into Deva. “Amma gurthukuochindi, ra (I remembered my mom).”

Deva doesn’t reply, choosing to press a kiss into Varadha’s hair, wrapping his entire body around his lost king and trapping him within the confines of his limbs. Varadha sleeps more peacefully that night than he ever has during the past few months.

The next morning as Amma sends them out of the house, she stops Varadha in his place, a hand wrapped around his arm.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you two since you were children. Karta and Salaar aside, when it comes down to it, you’re just two kids who’ve been forced to grow up too soon. Don’t let those titles define you for the rest of your life, nana. Don’t make the same mistakes as…” The way her gaze digs into his is enough to make him understand, so he nods back, a promise in his own right.

She lets him go.

~*~

The peace doesn’t last long, it hardly ever does in a world like theirs.

They start hearing of various raids across India that begin to interfere with their black market trade. Before they can consider taking action, casinos, brokerages, and banks partnered with Khansar are stormed in an effort to prevent money laundering and other illegal activities. Trucks containing various goods such as weapons and drugs are stopped en route, all the material seized and confiscated by the government. A frenzy erupts in the capital as calls are made to various seeds and contacts planted in India, demanding answers for the sudden crack down. The answer, it turns out, is rather simple.

The government of India aims to fight back against crime… to fight back against Khansar.

It’s not an answer that sits well with anyone. Definitely not Varadha as everyone in his court looks to him for answers. Tensions rise every day in Kotagada as the Doralu debate with their Karta about the best course of action to take to preserve their economy. In the end, there is nothing but disdain as the court adjourns, no real solution to be found.

For the time being, the best course of action is to be more discreet and careful than usual. They run checks on their supply chain to prevent security breaches. Only certain businesses are given access to trade after a thorough inspection process. Different routes are established, intricate and ever changing, with smaller shipments being sent out at a time. Overall, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s enough to get them by.

~*~

Deva’s eyes stay firmly planted on the ground and he hopes that Baba will finally break the silence. He doesn’t. He holds his cap in his hands, leaning back against the chair as if his age has finally caught up to him. Bilal doesn’t seem to be of much help either as he paces back and forth, carefully avoiding Rhinda who scowls at the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

The creak of a door opening snaps them to attention. Varadha steps out, face void of any emotion as he jutts his chin.

“You can go see him now, if you’d like.” Baba doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence before he disappears through the door.

“I didn’t even know he could move that fast.” Rhinda tries to joke, but no one laughs. He doesn’t look too amused either as he falls back into his chair.

Varadha makes his way to the large window, fists clenched at his sides. Within seconds, Deva is next to him.

“The name of Khansar was enough to stop them not too long ago. Now they’ve attacked us at the heart of it.” Varadha’s hand clasps ironclad around Deva’s tattoo. “I want them dead. Each and every person who dared to lay a hand on him.”

“As you command, Karta.”

“The thought of Khansar alone should terrify them. Touch what belongs to us–”

“You pave the path to your own destruction.”

The Karta’s fist drops back down to his side and his weapon is released.

~*~

Death for anyone who stops the seal.

That is what Deva declares. No one in court bothers to argue. Not when it was a law that would benefit their own economy. Even if they did object, they wouldn’t challenge the monster who just committed a massacre to please his master.

Rakshasudu.

That is what they begin to call him. Not to his face or the Karta’s. Not in scorn either, but in awe of the sheer power that he exudes. The new name becomes a declaration of acceptance.

A violent man for a violent city.

~*~

“A symbol. All that it brands, belongs to you.”

The simple phrase from Deva’s lips ignites a raging fire within him. Varadha’s eyes darken in the confines of the room, gaze honing in on the devil’s mark stamped against Deva’s bare chest.

“Come here.” Varadha commands. He watches as Deva saunters towards him, the glow from the lantern casting shadows onto his rugged physique. His fingers ghost against the seal, drinking in the intricate artwork that decorates tanned skin. The eyes of the devil leer into him, ferocious teeth barred in contempt. It was nothing more than a small circle of ink, able to fade away with the swipe of a finger. Yet, it possessed the ability to shake an entire nation to its core.

So much power in such a small symbol.

And the man who imbued it with that power stands before him, beautiful and pliant, his face sculpted to express unbounded devotion.

Varadha’s hand darts out, fingers wrapping around the underside of Deva’s jaw as he tugs him closer. Deva breathes sharply, surprised by the action, but doesn’t move. He waits patiently, unblinking as Varadha leisurely devours the length of him. In a sudden flash, Varadha turns him around so that Deva’s back is pinned to his front. Deva catches a glimpse of the image in the mirror planted across from him, a pathetic whimper leaving him at the sight.

Varadha’s eyes penetrate through the reflective surface, dark, calculating, and aroused. His fingers dig into Deva’s pulse point as his other hand travels down the expanse of his torso, nails scraping against sensitive skin, eliciting a feeling so strong that Deva’s eyes flutter shut and he arches back into Varadha, desperate for a taste. The furthest he can get is the brush of his lips against the side of Varadha’s jaw before he draws back with a tut.

“Salaar,” The warmth of his breath fans against Deva’s ears, the smoky tone exhilarating him further. “My Salaar. So beautiful when you give yourself to me like this.” His hand slips further down, stopping at the bulge between Deva’s thighs. His fingers dance against the sensitive flesh, featherlight touches that have Deva working to hold back keens of frustration. That is, until Varadha palms him through the fabric of his jeans, the firm touch causing Deva to release a low moan.

“Va–” The name catches in his throat when Varadha’s grip tightens around his neck significantly. Varadha’s lips begin to explore the curve of Deva’s nape, sharp bites that prick into his skin, only to be soothed by the gentle slip of his tongue. Varadha hums softly into him, slotting his hips against the curve of Deva’s ass and pressing into him just enough to let his arousal be felt. Slowly, the hand that is wrapped around Deva’s throat begins to descend. Within no time, Varadha works Deva out of his jeans, hands circling against the heavy length of him.

“Open your eyes and watch what I do to you.” He growls, teeth catching onto Deva’s ear. Deva’s eyes flicker open at the order and he digs his teeth into his lips at the debauched image of him in Varadha’s arms. Hair askew, pupils blown, skin marked by claiming bruises. He lowers his gaze to where Varadha’s hands are pumping him unceremoniously, his thumb circling against his slit, collecting precum and spreading it across the throbbing surface. It doesn’t take long for Varadha’s hands to become coated with the evidence of Deva’s arousal and the sight itself makes Deva tremble with need. “You look beautiful like this. Pliant in my hands, flushed beyond belief, desperate for release.”

Deva hisses as Varadha tugs against his balls, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming him enough to close his eyes for a chance of reprieve.

“Open your eyes, Salaar. I won’t tell you again. Take your eyes off the image of what I’m doing to you and I won’t let you come for me tonight.” The warning incites panic and Deva’s lids snap open, catching the merciless grin on Varadha’s face. “Good boy.”

The motions of his hands speed up around Deva’s cock with varying pressure and Deva is forced to watch himself break, tremors spreading across his overstimulated body. His chest heaves with panting breaths, muscles clenching in an effort to hold back his inevitable release. As he watches from tear-filled eyes, Varadha’s reflection reshapes itself in the mirror, a smug curl of his lips as it dawns on him what Deva is doing.

“Such a good boy, holding yourself back for my sake. I didn’t even have to ask, did I? You’re just that desperate to please me.” The throaty chuckle causes Deva to flush deeper and dig his fingers into the soft material of Varadha’s clothes.

“Please.” Deva groans, on edge. A tear rolls down the corner of his eye and satisfaction paints itself across Varadha’s features.

“Come for me, my beautiful Salaar.” A gasp leaves Deva’s lips, his cock twitching as the sticky residue splatters against the skin of his stomach. His eyes close and he leans back against Varadha, spent as his orgasm flows through his system. He can feel Varadha’s arms wrapping around his waist, lips brushing against his ears as he whispers sweet nothings while pleasure settles into his bones.

By the time Deva is able to ground himself enough to open his eyes, he catches sight of Varadha’s gaze drilling into the seal stamped against his chest. A shudder of pleasure rocks through him when Varadha pushes him onto the bed, his hand curling around the dark mark, a wildness in the depth of his kohl rimmed eyes that has Deva hardening once more.

“Mine.” Varadha places a searing kiss against his lips, stealing his soul from within the confines of its cage. Deva gives back just as much as he gets, wanting nothing more than to have Varadha understand that his entire life belongs to him and only him. By the time Varadha pulls away, stripping out of his shirt, Deva’s kiss-slick lips whisper back words of reassurance.

“Yours, always yours.”

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #varadha rajamannar #salaar fic #salaar fanfic #khansar

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drdemonprince · 6 months

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Hi, apologies in advance if this is something you've already discussed or addressed, but I was wondering about whether there is any kind of correlation between autism and increased sensitivity to tragic global events? Maybe I'm just burnt out, but the past couple weeks of turmoil and tragedy in Israel/Palestine has me completely immobilized with anxiety and despair. I don't have any profound connections to the region, Israeli citizens, or the Palestinian people, but my heart aches from it all, especially with the ongoing devastation in Gaza.

I had a similar experience in 2017 from Hurricane Maria, but I had lived for a year on the island where it first made landfall in PR, so I was personally invested and it was a place with which I was familiar. Asking other autistic friends if there's a higher chance of being hyperfixated on or extra sensitive to coverage of international tragedy, I was told my own personal history with trauma and violence/tragedy may just make me more empathetic to others' suffering.

How, as an autistic person, do you find ways to pull yourself out of despair for the state of the world and the suffering of others?

Many people find it compelling to draw a link between Autism and heightened empathy or sensitivity to matters of injustice, for understandable reasons, but the reality is far more complex.

In research, we see that Autistic people are more morally consistent than other people -- we are more likely to sacrifice resources or social standing in order to stand up for the things in which we believe. Because of masking pressures, many of us become highly attuned to the emotions of others -- or what we presume those emotions to be, because of course no person is a mind-reader. We can appear stubborn, to others, in holding steadfastly to our beliefs even when doing so is risky. We are also highly traumatized and thus suffer from hyper-vigilance, trauma triggers, and many other symptoms that may register as us taking emotional blows particularly hard.

It would be comforting to tell ourselves that such traits make us more connected to global events, or actually more morally or ethically invested. But that isn't necessarily the case. Having a strong moral consistency doesn't mean that a person's morals are the correct ones, being willing to make a sacrifice for a cause doesn't mean it was the right cause, and being highly sensitive to the plights of others doesn't mean we actually understand them or are feeling their feelings at all.

For myself, being Autistic is associated with being far less emotionally impacted by such global events than other people. I have very limited empathy, and in situations like these what empathy I do have is entirely cognitively mediated. Global catastrophes and massive injustices don't really emotionally affect me the way that I see them affecting other people -- I don't cry about such things or feel devastated by them, I just think about them a lot in a relatively dispassionate way, and many of the gestures people find moving surrounding such issues do nothing for me.

It doesn't mean I don't care. I actively make the choice to care because of my belief system and values. I have to decide intentionally to dwell on the emotional reality of what is happening. I have to force myself to imagine what others might be feeling, and what others are going through, in order to understand it. Otherwise, to me it is more of an intellectual abstraction, and my focus immediately goes toward what I think the logical solution or means of response might be.

This doesn't make my conclusions any better than anyone else's, mind you. Just because I'm thinking analytically doesn't mean I have the correct information or frame of reference -- in fact, in such matters it often leads me to be oblivious to what others need or what others would consider the morally right thing to do. There's a whole spectrum of human experience I can't access, and while I used to think it made me evil, it's doesn't. It just makes me different.

My friends and loved ones who are more emotionally open-hearted are the ones that remind me to pause, to honor people's grief, to make sense of the emotional and social needs of the moment as well as the ones that strike my numb self as more supposedly practical. My knee-jerk reaction to such situations is to try and jump into problem-solving mode, and I have had to learn from experience that I need to slow down, humble myself, and make space for the enormity of people's feelings and the horror of the things are happening that my body just cannot touch. Very emotionally obvious things, by the standards of other people, completely fly past me.

Still, I am also often frustrated and confused by the reactions other people have to crises -- as a very general rule, humanity tends to reach for means of addressing such events that are symbolic and emotionally satisfying but might not align with their professed ideologies or any kind of articulated strategy. The safety pin thing after Trump was elected, for example, or the blackout squares at the height of BLM. These movements felt good, I guess, to people who were in a state of genuine panic, but they actually did more harm than good.

It's difficult to be what often feels like the sole voice asking whether what the collective is doing really makes any sense. If often makes me seem like I am heartless, which I guess I am, but I am still highly invested in the side I believe to be just winning, and in my annoying fault-finding I'm simply trying to aid in that.

There's benefits and drawbacks to both approaches, is what I'm saying, and there are many routes to caring about an issue and many ways in which caring isn't the same thing as being helpful.

All of this is a bit ancillary to your question. Is it an Autism thing to be sensitive to global genocide? I think that's quite a human thing. Many Autistic people take such matters very very seriously, but some of us do so in ways that aren't as emotional as what you describe. Others are incredibly emotionally impacted by such matters, like you are -- and so are many non-Autistic people. It hardly matters whether it's normal or not though -- this is what is happening for you, and it matters, and you certainly aren't alone in it.

I wish I had advice that came from personal experience, but my experience is somewhat of the mirror image to yours. I find that when people care deeply about an issue, whether it's intellectually or emotionally, they compulsively consume information and upsetting imagery about the issue to a degree they find debilitating. I do this, and you probably do it as well, even if what happens to me is analysis paralysis and fault-finding and what happens to you is probably more like horror and despair.

I believe limiting one's intake is necessary. I believe humility is too. We are not the stars of this story, and we are not so important in the world as to expect ourselves to be experts or saviors. I find that stepping back and gaining historical knowledge places things in perspective. I have learned much by studying the political movements of the past. I have had to develop a true understanding of how the social change I desire really works -- thanks to historical reading, discussion with people I respect, and by consuming leftist theory.

I think it is vitally important to be able to disagree with people, at least in the privacy of your own mind and in your own conduct, so that even if someone is ringing an alarm bell and saying that a certain action is necessary, you have the power to determine if you actually agree. I think it's important to not constantly consume information. We have to learn to know which voices to completely disregard, by asking ourselves what belief system drives a person's claims, and whether they are positioning themselves as an expert for their own self-enrichment and betterment rather than for a just cause.

I think we can't just be moved by the emotional panic of the situation, because we are very easily manipulated, drained of energy, and led astray, and disempowered if we are. But I also think we can't be detached from the human emotional reality of the moment either -- no matter what I think is the rational course of action, the only way humans are ever going to organize and take that action is by speaking with one another, crying with one another, eating together, laughing together, and believing in something better together.

I don't know how to do any of that stuff. I only know tactics and history and theory and fault-finding. There is a place for me in the struggle. There is a place for you in it too. But we are small, and we have to make peace with our smallness and flaws and build a movement that accounts for them, and for a wide variety of gifts and perspectives.

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