gazafunds.com - Donate directly to a Palestinian family in urgent need of evacuation, medical attention, food, rebuilding homes/businesses etc. (Spotlights 1 verified gfm at a time so if you don't know who/where to donate to just go here and donate to the one they show you!)
Help provide tents (urgent):
The Sameer Project: Currently providing tents for displaced families in Gaza (emergency bc tents in Rafah are being burned as we speak) (paypal) (gfm)
Food, cash & essentials:
Care for Gaza: Working on the ground in Gaza to distribute food, cash, medicine & other essentials to displaced families. (paypal) (gfm)
Direct Aid for Gaza: also working on the ground in Gaza to distribute food, cash & other daily essential suppliess to displaced families. (paypal) (gfm)
Water:
Gaza Municipality's water project: The official Municipality of Gaza needs help rebuilding the water infrastructure in Gaza City to restore access to clean water and waste management services for the people of Gaza. (This campaign only has a couple of weeks left but it's still only at 15%!)
eSIMs (urgent):
guide to buy & send esims for gaza
crips for esims for gaza: If you don't know how to buy esims or don't have the capacity to manage them (e.g. topping up regularly), this team of volunteers are collecting funds to buy & manage gaza esims regularly
Medical Aid
Palestine Red Crescent Society: Provides emergency medical and ambulance services and humanitarian relief on the ground in Gaza e.g. rescuing and treating the wounded.
Most platforms hand you a menu of premade characters. SweetDream hands you a blank canvas. You're not picking from someone else's imagination, you're building from your own, looks and personality and voice and history all the way down.
That's the purpose that makes it worth it. The companion you end up with feels personal because she literally is. And thanks to the quality of the chat and the visuals, the person you imagined is the person who shows up at sweetdream.ai.
|Cover and Chapters are draft concepts and not the final work| @dividers-are-us for the chapters in this post.
Adult Contemporary Fantasy series following Gertrude and her best friend, Urs. Together, they solve fae related mysteries and help to bridge the gap between the modern world and the wild world of fae.
Her adventures are filled with romance, mystery and whimsy in this modern paranormal world.
Read the Trailor Here!
There is nothing more paradoxical than the simultaneous bubbling excitement and inconvenient frustration that comes with a surprise thunderstorm that avoided detection long enough to be omitted from the weather forecast. I love rain in all of its lulling noise as its chorus hums against the pavement and the orchestra plays a trance amongst the leaves and branches of the birches. But I do not love rain when it decides to surprise me whilst out running errands and too far from the safety of my apartment to avoid being wholly soaked through Briard.
I was running through the heavy summer rain, holding my light cardigan over my head to protect my hair, my letter bag drumming against my hip frantically. I made a distracted glance down every meter or so, anxious that the bag would somehow flap open and the contents would spill out or collect water, both causing damage in the rain.
In my worry, I had almost missed the discounters, running by the window and looking down once more to check my bag, barely catching my reflection in the store glass, reminding me that I had more to do before running home.
I rushed in, the automatic doors greeting me entry into the dry cool space already crowded with the noon crowd of elders. I shuffled through my bag while walking to the shopping baskets for the shopping list that would have been scribbled through obnoxiously by my roommate. He was always prone to ‘tweaking’ my list, though it would be better to say he enjoyed ruining the whole thing with his illegible print. His umlauts, which looked like angry faces cursing me, were the only distinctly eligible parts. I have asked him to just message me what he wants, I even bought him a cheap cellphone, but he never obliges me with this request, complaining of the impersonality of digital text versus the beauty that is written text. Sure, gramps.
You would easily mistake him for an immigrant or tourist for his horribly written German if it were not for his affluent native speech (though specifically that of the southwest of Germany in the state of Baden-Württemberg where he claims to be from.)
Finally wrangling the list out, I unfolded it and read through it as best I could, eyes narrowing and painful sighs shredding through the small piece of paper, taking in every scribble that was so frustratingly him.
The doodles, however, were cute enough to forgive him, I guess. It was a doodle of him eating the cakes he requested, cheerfully sending me a thumbs up in encouragement. He was always doodling on the lists we made or even spare parchment papers that needed to be hung on our mini fridge. It made him happy and I couldn't resist seeing his cute antics when he was pleased with himself (and it made my life a lot better as he became more willing to negotiate himself into doing chores.)
Which means that if I want him to be especially agreeable today I should buy him extra snacks (There goes my paycheck.)
I made quick work of our short grocery list, grabbing a poppy pound cake and the chocolate stuffed croissants from the bread aisle, while still grabbing my bread rolls for breakfast he so rudely scribbled through. It was easy to zigzag through the familiar isles even in the crowd, a circumstance that once stressed me into fatigue but now was manageably navigated. I grabbed a stack of ramen and udon boxes, cheap and easy to enjoy but I always have to add fresh meats and vegetables to make it more filling for the two of us.
“Have you watched the new tv series Olivia was talking about between classes?”
“No, I haven't really had time. Mom and dad are getting a divorce and I have, once again, been dragged into their personal drama.”
“Ugh. Sucks. If you need to get away, just call me.”
I paused, almost rounding the corner for the candy aisle only to overhear familiar voices. I began to lurk there, anxiously trying not to eavesdrop but also listening for them to leave.
There was nothing wrong with the two women, it's not like they bullied me or we had some falling out or any kind of personal drama or beef between us. But that was also kinda, exactly the reason I didn't want to be seen by old classmates. It would be way too awkward for me if they recognized me and worse, decided to strike up a conversation.
I didn't have many friends in school for being a bit of an outcast who never outgrew imaginary friends or playing pretend. When everyone else was meeting up to go to the cinema together, I was out in the park digging through the dirt for worms as offerings to Urban Mites. When my classmates were having boyfriends and going on double dates, I was held up in my room making scientific charts on mythological creatures.
When I tried to join a local book club for others my age, I ran into the same issue time and time again when it came to joining any social space. Abnormal interests and a need to rectify the misinformation spread about the fantasy world of the fae. Reading popular books always leads to a clashing of heads, making me disagreeable and argumentative. I was avoided or teased for my eccentric behaviors and I was overly hung up on my reality and trying to prove its existence and myself to my peers.
I've grown out of this need, but the sting of rejection hurts nonetheless. That feeling of being an outsider, someone not accepted in the socially normal folds of society. Perhaps they would have long forgotten about me and my bizarre interests and my pinned insect collections or elaborate star and season charts. Perhaps my anxiety at this moment is unfounded, yet that small chance of being remembered as the weird antisocial kid was enough for me to hang back and wait for them to move on.
Except, as lady luck would have it, they chose to walk in my direction at the junction where I was currently hiding like a creepy stalker and wet clinging hair that made me look like a wild bog witch who crawled from her swamp and mesmerized by the distinctly different atmosphere of the city.
Their voices traveled too quickly for my panicking brain to react, instead freezing and having my first uncomfortable encounter with classmates since graduation.
“Pardon-” started with the tall red head, Alice i think her name was, who looked just as cool and hardcore as she did in school but far more piercings and tattoos. She narrowed her eyes, possibly recognizing me. I smiled politely.
“All good, have a nice day-” I began, bowing and trying to walk around, hoping the narrowing eyes was just her resting face and not her putting any pieces together of my identity.
I thought for sure I was forgotten until her friend, I think Sophia, gasped and turned around on the heels of her boots, crying out my name in surprise, “Wait, Gertrude, is that you?”
I turned, slowly nodding, maintaining a polite disposition despite the filled dread. “Yup. Hello.” I waved.
Alice spoke up next, “I thought I recognized your face. I didn't want to distract you like some people though.” she smirked at Sophia, playfully bumping her thin shoulder into the other more toned one.
Sophia used to be really small back in the Gymnasium, but seeing her now, it seemed she must have started body building. She had always complained about her height making her seem more weak to others, both of us being around 160cm with Alice towering over the two of us. Despite the discomfort, I suddenly felt proud for my old classmate. “You look really good Sophia.”
She gushed, “Thank you! I have really filled myself out fabulously, haven't I?”
“Oh yeah, If I was into women, id totes thirst for you.”
“Shut up.” she giggled, brushing against Alice herself this time. “What are you doing though? We haven't seen you around at Uni so we assumed you left the city for somewhere else.”
“No, I'm not going to Uni. I'm uh- doing vocational studies. I guess. It's a niche thing.”
“Valid. You were always doing your little hobbies. I can totally see you picking up something interesting.” a nice way of her putting it, I nodded, my lips thinned into an uncomfortable line.
“Yeah.”
“Do you still collect bugs by the way? Your bug pinning collection was really cool. Some of your collection was especially creepy, like that one contorted cricket you had pinned way back in primary school. Creepy, but cool as fuck. Are you doing something with that? I have some buddies who would totally buy some off you.” Alice asked. Of course she remembered the ‘bugs’.
I grimaced. “Well, I mean, yeah. Kinda? Basically. Uhm, I'm studying a mix between horticulture and entomology for biodiversity and preservation projects. Protect the bees and all that.” I gave the air a triumphant fist while nodding needlessly. “Stuff like that.”
“What's that? Entomology and Horticulture I mean.” Sophie asked.
“Oh, so, entomology is the study of bugs, basically, and horticulture is like the practice of growing plants and stuff? I mean, both are a lot more complex but that's the most basic explanation I can give without holding a lecture.”
“Cool. It's really cool. Green stuff. That's really great.” Alice nodded her head, giving Sophie a look that probably said ‘can we end this already and go?’ “ I would love to see more local gardens and nature pockets in the city. Good luck with your studies.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I nodded. More awkwardness. A long set of silence between the three of us eating at the remains of my frayed nerves.
“Well anyways, enjoy your day and it was nice catching up with you. Have fun with your entomology and plant stuff. We have stuff to do.” Alice tugged Sophie who seemed keen to continue grilling me about my new post school life.
“Yup me too. Nice chat. See you around.”
“Tschüssie” Sophie waved, linking her free arm with Alice as they slowly departed from where I remained, smiling and waving uncomfortably.
I took a deep breath and fled as soon as their attention had been fully ejected from me and pressed into something else entirely, dashing into the candy isle to grab what I needed and speed through the rest of my shopping to get out of there as fast as possible so I could go somewhere, preferably my apartment, to mentally recover from the encounter.
It wasn't the worst thing to happen, sure, and maybe I am being dramatic, but why did they have to bring up my bugs? I remember when Alice had first found out and the mortified look she had made that day, asking me why I was digging around in the dirt and catching crickets and beetles. I had told her, unabashedly, that I was not looking for bugs but in fact, fairies, and that I wanted to test a hypothesis I had about them being immune to oxygen deprivation. The answer was only sometimes, if you wanted to know.
In my defense, this entire experiment, while unethical, was entirely coming from that of a child in primary school. Alice and I had always been in the same school and class since primary school, so of course she would have had to witness my childhood antics then.
Those antics were why we used to be friends. Before she grew up and I didn't. She loved hearing about the fairies and wanted to find them with me. We played together for hours after school out by the river that passed through our district, collecting leeches and bird feathers, reading books that told you how to summon a unicorn.
One night, we had snuck out late into the night, barely midnight, fully prepared for one such ritual. We waited hours in the cold dark of the woods for a unicorn that never came. That was the day Alice stopped believing but for me, who had always seen the other world and marveled in its whimsy, had taken it to merely mean the specific ritual we tried was a dud.
When I had prepared for a new ritual, she had told me she was bored with chasing fairies and we drifted apart soon after.
Oh well, I shrugged off the memory and hurried through the store, using the self check out and dashing back into the frenzied rain.
I was lucky to catch the tram just before it departed, being able to ride it right to the front door of my apartment. It was a ten minute ride crammed into the tram car from shoulder to shoulder that suffocated me in the humid heat of the wet bodies soaking into their clothes and sweating from the mix of body heat that only soured the smell of the space further. I hardly regretted choosing to ride the tram rather than walking, however, as the rain was only becoming more ferociously ambitious in its aims to flood the streets and damage the goods I was carrying.
Finally, after my eventful day of encounters and busy hustling of bodies, I was home.
I hopped off my stop, looking up at the odd antique store that was as old as its contents were, surviving the world wars and who knows what else, its old crumbling tudor walls standing tall amidst the modern developing buildings that consumed its landscape.
It was an old yet bold thing, its bones sturdy and unwilling to give in despite its age and wearing down at its joints. My landlord, the owner of the antique shop, worked tirelessly to protect the building, caring for it like an elder who wasn't ready to lay down any time soon, pushing through the years to keep standing. It was a beautiful place and my landlord was incredibly kind.
He grew up in the DDR, and would tell me all kinds of stories of his life back then. The hardships and the work the community put into surviving the odds together. It seemed to have stuck with him, making him the charitable type who hated when you tried to pay him back with money, saying you should repay kindness with strong acts and not cheap money. I adored him, even if he rambled too much about his childhood once you gave him the ear for it. He was as bold and rebellious as his shop, refusing to yield in the changing youthful modern landscape that was Berlin.
My apartment was only accessible from inside the shop, so I had a key to the shop to access the stairs to the attic, where I live. The space was renovated into a comfortable though small living space. I was hardly complaining, after all, I even have the luxury of an AC window unit to stay cool in the summer, a not so common sight in even the more standard apartments.
“I'm home!” I called out, tossing my wet things to the side and taking off my shoes. The moment I walked through the door, the exhaustion of the day hit me like an avalanche that sent me sprawling over the couch.
“You haven't put groceries away yet.” a rude voice squealed.
“Do it yourself.” I grunted into the fluffy belly of my best friend whom I hugged into my face.
“Why do that when I can just make a human do it? I'll break your pipes if my food goes bad before I even get a nibble. Then you won't be able to shower until the old human comes to fix things.”
I jerked my head up with a glare. “Dont you dare. He is too sweet to be caught in the crossfire of your antics.”
His little paws patted at my wet hair, “Then get off me. You're smelly. And Wet.” he sniffed the air, his long nose twitching, “and put the frozen pizza in the oven while you're at it. I'm starving.”
I rolled my eyes, crawling off the couch and giving my best friend, Urs, who happens to also be the only Tanuki I have ever met in Germany, the space he desired. “Youre always starving.”
He began to attempt to clean his fur of the wetness of my body, grumbling about damaging the couch as I dragged my bag over to the small kitchenette space and put things away into the mini fridge and freezer.
“Look at me Gertrude, It's terrible. I have a smaller belly than my kin. I'm starving, horribly. Brutally. Malnourished even. You're torturing me and you have the audacity to mock my suffering. Horrible- the worst, really. I should have you cursed for this-”
I shoved the poopy pound cake package into his angry little paws. “Shut up and eat the cake. I'm putting the pizza in the oven, okay? Just don't eat all of it like last time. I have to eat too.”
He excitedly silenced himself with his offering, delighted sounds of smacking and chewing as he ripped through the plastic packaging and began devouring his small cake. It would take me a few days to eat those, a slice at a time, max two slices a day. But for him? Despite how small his natural form was, he would eat that one cake and more and still be hungry. It was true that he lost weight since living with me, but that was entirely his fault for choosing my broke self as his free food supply.
“What Pizza did you get?” he asked between bites.
“Spinach. I was tempted to get that weird American macaroni pizza but the brand is a bit expensive. I bought some sausage to go on the pizza though so it won't just be spinach.”
“You should have got both. Macaroni Pizza sounds exciting.”
I huffed. “Pay me first and maybe I'll think about it next time.”
He pouted. “I don't have human money…. I can give you peanuts though.”
“That sucks because I don't accept peanuts as payment.”
He kicked at me with his small foot, crying about the unfairness of the human world, saying if I loved him I would even steal for him. We playfully spat at one another a good few minutes as I prepared the frozen pizza, laying the sausage out on its cold surface before retiring to the shower while it baked to clean myself of the weather.
When I returned, dry and comfortably wrapped in my pajamas, he was already getting handsy with my half of the pizza, sitting back and watching some drama tv series he was obsessed with.
“You thief!” I cried, lunging at the pizza and taking what I could salvage from his greedy paws. “Thats it. No more unsupervised meals for you.”
He cried out in a tantrum, “But I'm hungry!”
I shoved the whole slice into my mouth, talking through the gore of bread, sausage, spinach, cheese and tomato. “Then eat your croissants. Not my Pizza”
“Gross. Your human parents poorly trained you.”
“Look who's talking. You have pizza crumbs all over your belly.”
He huffed, patting himself clean with his paws and licking the crumbs away messily, hardly a beacon of cleanliness and manners himself. I giggled, watching him before offering assistance, using a tissue to dab at his soft coat.
“Youre hopeless.”
Before he could respond, there was a sudden buzz at the door, which meant that either someone was unable to read the sign that said the shop was closed, or I was being called for a job. It would seem that my day was far from over if it was the latter, and I desperately hoped it was the latter.
Standing in the corner of my apartment was an exhausted woman whose hair, once diligently pinned up, was loosely hung about around her ears. Her eyes were swollen with unease of both me and her own state of fatigue. She didn't want to be here. This was a last resort for her, one of sleep deprived desperation that had dragged her to my apartment, holding a laminated clipping of my contacts she must have taken from the many advertisements Urs had hung up around the city.
I had attempted to clean myself back into a professional state of coffee corduroy pants and fitted beige blouse. I was the fitting image of a normal young adult scam artist trying to fit my business into normal society, except I was not a scam artist, pinkie promise.
We shook hands and Urs offered her a seat at the armchair I had dragged in some months ago specifically for business guests. She chose to stand until I sat on the sofa next to Urs, her eyes hesitantly drifting in the direction of us and the armchair.
He was in a human form, a soft figure with a rounded face, curious almond eyes and a mischievous set of grinning lips that put together the look of a boy always on the verge of a practical joke. Thick autumn waves of hair framed his human face like tussled leaves in a current trend seemingly popular with teenagers that matched his own brown corduroy fitted pants and button up shirt with a leafy patterned print.
“H-hello, Is this the, uhm, ‘Tanuk’s Paranormal Assistances’?”
I handed Urs my best attempt at a prickling look I could muster before turning a smile back to our guest. “Yes, that's us. What can I help you with today?”
She finally sat down, cautiously looking around the room before continuing. “Well, you see- I-” she took a breath, calming herself. “I am a nurse at a children's hospital in the area. I moved here recently from München so I was unaware of….” she paused, chewing her lip and looking around anxiously again, searching my face for a sign of insensitivity.
I merely nodded, urging her to continue.
“Well, I'm not the superstitious type. Usually. But there is this dog. I thought it was a child's but none of my coworkers would talk with me about it, telling me I was being silly. No dogs allowed on the grounds, they said. Well then, it must be a stray I thought, so I wanted to take it in and help rehome the poor thing… but the strangest thing happened. I leashed him up and was ready to go at the end of my shift, walked him out the courtyard and next thing I know the leash goes limp and he's just gone. Like I was pulling around a collar and leash for no reason. I figured he must be so small the leash couldn't fit around his neck but…. Next time I tried… it was secure. I checked and checked over and over. But the same thing happened again. I was confused. I tried to bring up the dog again but nobody would talk with me about it.”
“Is this why you decided to come see me?” I asked.
She shook her head, a tense smile on her lips. “Oh no. A crafty dog? That's simple. I could ignore it like everyone else so long as he was no harm to the children. It seemed to be how the others treated it. Don't talk about the dog. The children love this dog but the administration would remove him if we reported it. I assumed that was the idea.”
“What hospital is this?” Urs asked. The woman blinked at him in confusion before something dawned on her and her expression shifted from nervous to embarrassed.
“My apologies. I even failed to introduce myself, It must be my nerves. My name is Nadiya Pavlenko and I work at the Weißensee Children's Hospital.”
“No worries” I waved my hands, trying to make her feel more at ease. “I get it. You're in an awkward situation. I've had my fair share of awkward situations that I respond poorly to.” She gave an appreciative nod, clutching her bag tightly in her lap. “So, you work at Weißensee? I thought the hospital had closed down?”
She shook her head, “No. It shortly closed for renovations but it is now a hospital that specializes in more serious medical cases. The children in our care range from disabilitating chronic illnesses to…” her voice began to stall out the final part, the subtle hint just enough to linger in the air around us and settle.
The hospital was for children who were undoubtedly going to die by most standards. For some of those children, it would be their final hope and their final moments.
“The point is. We care for children who need extra care.”
“A dog being allowed on the premises is dangerous then, right? Why let it stay or not report it? Those kids are probably immuno compromised and dogs can get into a lot of messes, especially a stray.”
“I agree, and I would further agree if it wasn't for the fact that I did report this.”
“You did?”
“Yes. After I attempted to remove the dog, we had a new child admitted who had a severe pet allergy. Allergic to everything and anything. He would get severe hives, trouble breathing. The child was admitted because of the summer heat which apparently caused him to lose mobility due to his feet becoming covered in blisters and hives and rashes from psoriasis. His parents bring him in every summer, apparently, due to how difficult it is for them to manage. When I learned about this child I became terrified that the dog would approach him and potentially kill him. There would be a lawsuit on our hands if we did nothing, knowing a dog was visiting the children. My coworkers refused to report the dog so I did. I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“It is. I would probably do the same thing.”
“Yes, well, my coworkers didn't see it the same way. And when the higher ups called for animal services to hunt this dog, well, it was like the dog never existed. Not a single trace. They couldn't find animal droppings from him or fur or anything. They tore up the entire garden courtyard looking for the damn thing. They checked the cameras and there were no dogs ever there. It was concluded that I must have been imagining a dog.” She shook her head bitterly.
“I didn't imagine that dog. I felt him. I touched him. I watched him play with the children. They told me about the dog. We all know there is a dog there. To tell me I imagined it is just-” she was riling herself up, angry as she gripped her finely trimmed nails into the pleather of her purse. “Then it happened.”
“I was working the night shift. This all happened in a span of two weeks, mind you. I was trying to get it out of my head. We had a child in special care who was still in the diagnosis phase. They were brought out occasionally for fresh air during those two weeks so I know the child made contact with the dog before. But this time… this time I-” she closed her eyes, like she was back in that moment again, reliving whatever had frightened her.
“Is this the incident that made you come?”
“Y-yes. It frightened me. Frightens me. I just don't understand-” she whimpered, fiddling with her bag once more to give herself a tissue from inside. “I was walking down the hallway. I had just fed the child and was taking the cart back to the kitchen when I felt this… this sudden prickling sensation on my neck. Like something was there. There was something there. Had to be, It felt too… Then the lights began to flicker, all of them, simultaneously. The entire hallway just flickering. My first thought was that we were having a power shortage or overload or something. My first instinct was to run to the intensive care unit to make sure the machines were okay. But behind me, in the flickering of those lights was that dog. It was just standing there, staring at me. The lights flickering became aggressive at this point, enough to cause a seizure. But I couldn't move or run. I was frozen there staring at this dog as it turned its attention from me to the door of the kids room and just… walked in. Pushed the door open with its head and went in. I followed. The dog had climbed on the bed at this point. Was laying there staring at the child and then…. Then- t-then. Nothing. Just their heart going silent. I watched the child die. I watched the dog lay there with this dying child. I did nothing.”
She began to sob softly into her hands, a weight of guilt that had been pressing on her, leading her here, was tumbling over and spilling from her eyes. “I havent… I can't sleep. Why was that dog there? Why did the flickering stop? Why did it disappear? I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't-"
I moved towards her, sliding from my seat on the couch to kneel before her, placing a hand on her shoulder to sooth the heavy weight on her. I didn't say anything, waiting for the calm before I engaged further in my work, but I was already cycling the information through my head, and I could tell that Urs was too.
“I'm sorry.” she muffled behind her hands. “I must seem so pathetic. I work with dying children but this really shook me.”
“Youre not pathetic. It's normal to be scared or shocked by things we don't understand.”
Some minutes passed before we began to resume the interview, allowing her the time she needed to recover from her emotions of the memory that spurred her visit. There was plenty of folklore on the subject of black dogs, especially in the UK. Their coming was often associated with death, and if she was working in a hospital that frequently dealt with extremely ill children, it would make sense if one of these had chosen to make a home for themselves there.
But theory was far different than application. I would need to see the dog for myself, take notes, follow it and talk to other nurses at the facility and the children.
Going uninvited to a hospital to talk to children was out of the question, of course. Just imagine how ridiculous that would look as a stranger lurking around a children's hospital. I would be asking to be hauled off to prison and put on a list.
“Can you think of a way we could safely enter the hospital grounds to investigate without making anyone afraid?” I asked. “I have some theories, but I need to investigate in person. I don't want to scare your coworkers or the children.”
She nodded, “Oh, yes. We have a sort of summer circus for the children coming up. Second weekend of July. I can sign you up as a volunteer which will give you access the entire duration of the event… though you would have to actually help with the event.” she added with a soft chuckle.
“Of course! I like doing volunteer work anyways. What do you think, Urs?”
“Sign us up as a talent act. We love kids and im great at tricks. Can even pull a bunny out of a hat.”
“Uhm, no… real bunnies, right? These are immunocompromised children.” Ms. Pavlenko eyed us anxiously.
“Yes, yes” I swatted at him, “It's a stuffed bunny. We can have it sanitized though for safety.”
“That would be good. I can email you once everything is arranged, is that alright, or?”
“Perfect. Let me fetch a pen and paper to write my email down for you.”
The heat that weekend was unbearable. I could imagine that it was the worst it had ever been, so much so that I was surprised the children's summer party wasn't canceled. There were already deaths this summer from the abnormal heat, thank you global warming, but the hospital seemed set on this event for the children (probably because they were going to die anyway by most metrics.)
Luckily, the hospital had stocked up on plenty of water and had provided an old parlor building that had portable AC units activated to keep the space cool for anyone who needed a temporary escape from the heat. The event was open exclusively for the patients and their parents to attend and was dependent on the public's volunteering and donations to maintain, but with the amount of resources provided to fight the heat, I was sure the general public must be seething with jealousy for not having volunteered sooner.
Urs and I had easily passed the background check, both of us having the squeakiest of cleanest records, especially Urs whose existence was an abstract of documentation. He did my makeup, making me look like a cross between a clown and a magician; pointy blue hat, blue vest, pointy violet nose, violet splotched cheeks and blue hearted lips. I was the saddest looking pastel magic clown there ever was.
And the magic tricks? They were me pulling him in his tanuki form out of my hat or him pranking me to make the kids laugh. More often it was the pranks. I was the joke and he was the magician. The costume was an illusion to hide the mastermind behind my humiliation.
When Ms. Pavlenko asked me where Urs was this morning, I lied easily, "He's sick with covid.” The terror filled her for only a moment before I followed up with "Don't worry, he got it while visiting his family so he's staying there until he's better. No contact between us happened.”
All the while, Urs was hiding in my letter bag scheming away his plans to terrorize me for the amusement of the children whose smiles he adored so much.
And no, he is immune to every modern disease, even if he gets vaccines to blend into society better. He literally cannot get covid, making him the best roommate ever if that's a criteria for you. Horrible choice, however, if affordability is important as he is as expensive as he is cute.
It was the fifth prank of the evening, me trying to pull a long scarf from my pocket, only to instead pull out a string of long thick oozing orange slime that was most definitely leaving a disgusting stain on the outside of my favorite pastel flower patterned jean shorts. The children cried out a disgruntled harmony of chuckling ‘ews’ and I scrunched my nose in a horrid expression with plots to strangle the tanuki.
I will never understand the tanukis ability to manifest things the way they do, but Urs is a special case in this regard. Unlike his family, which he has told me a bit about, he has developed a lot more specialized skills for urban living. His family maintains the usual fae lifestyle of hermit life away from people so their skills are about normal for a tanuki. There are some variations even between German Tanukis or Japanese Tanukis, but the one constant is that they prefer living in the forest and away from humans if they can help it.
I want to understand, both as his friend and a self proclaimed academic scholar of faeology, which is why I hound him as much as possible before he reaches his annoyance limit. For example, his ability to transform into a human so easily seems to be due to his long exposure to living amongst humans more than anything, and is not because he is special in any way. In the end, it is still an illusion like most other self transformations he has. What isn't an illusion is the nasty slime and he refuses to give up those secrets.
Desperate to clean myself of the orange gunk now slithering between the wedges of my fingers and seeping further into my favorite shorts, I had almost missed the large shadow that was lurking in the background of the gardens gazebo exhibit. I had to do a double take, pleased with the turn of my luck, to see a large black grizzly looking dog watching with a curious tilt of its head.
Armed with a small bag of tissues from my bag, I pardoned myself for a moment with the excuse of needing a pause, and pursued the curiously large hound. Upon my approach, the dog began to retreat into the gardens, looking back and wagging its tail almost as if to say ‘follow me, I have something to show you!’.
Walking close behind, It was easier to make out features of the creature and why it would have been so frightful for the nurse to stumble upon so late at night inside the hospital. The hound was almost larger than an Anatolian Shepherd with shimmering red rubies for eyes and wisps of thick midnight purple hair that seemed to curl around as sentient tendrils. The hairs of its tail were the longest, each strand, a long shimmering thing that seemed to be sensing the environment around it, reaching out and curling itself around my ankle, tiny split strands tickling me, before retreating and brushing the grass or overgrowing shrubs.
There really was no question that this was some sort of fae, unless you could point me to a dog that had will-o-whisp like hair and glowing red eyes. But its purpose and the extent of Ms. Pavlenkos claims were yet to be investigated, which meant that my work was hardly finished just because the hound was happily leading me around through the cluttered yard of old shrubs and sprouting trees.
The big dog sat down, signaling we had reached our destination. His nose pointedly seemed to be directing me deeper in, near the large old brick wall that loomed around us, cutting the yard off from the small thicket just past the way.
“Ya know, not that you asked, but usually following a large omen around usually implies the omen is for you.” Urs mumbled into my ear, sprouting out from somewhere on my belongings and clinging to the curve of my shoulder.
“An Omen?” I tilted my head around to try and look at him, only catching his paws in my line of sight.
“Ja.” as if it was obvious. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, “What is an Omen then, teacher?”
“What do you think an Omen is? Don't ask silly questions.” he papped at my head, as if his words cleared up anything.
“Right, sure, don't tell me.” I huffed, crouching down to peer deeper into the underbrush that the Dog, who was now anxiously whining and nuzzling at my palm into the intended direction, wanted me to go.
I didn't notice anything peculiar at first. Just dead leaves clumped together amongst fallen branches, some webs from oak professionary caterpillars which had given me a short pause due to their toxic nature, and other habitats of small insects. A large collection of firebugs scuttled along the dirt but it was the short high pitched sound that had caught my intention, luring me deeper until I found the source of the dog, or as Urs called it, the omen, wanted me to find.
A small sickly litter of kittens were bundled up together beside their dying mother, nestled together against the hard bricks to protect her back from potential predators. She gave all but the dog, who now wriggled its way inside, a sharp hiss that had taken every ounce of her strength. Her ears were puffed back with a hostile glare at me, afraid. I reached my hand out, holding my fingers near her enough that she could smell me only to receive an aggressive bite into the side of my pointer finger.
Urs seemed just as frightened as she was, digging his own nubby paws into my neck and panicking at the slight flinch of my pain. “Are you okay Gertrude? Should I get you a bandaid? I have some turtle themed ones in my pouch somewhere. Get away from that thing, it might have rabies.”
“Shhhh,” I cooed, "She's just scared.”
I didn't pull back, merely watching as her teeth sunk deeper into my finger and drawing blood. I hid my pain away behind a wall of resolve, silencing the need to rip myself away and give her space. I held my position, not moving in further but not retreating either, until she slowly accepted me, releasing me from her bite and relaxing back with her desperate litter.
“It's alright, ma’am. I'm going to take your kittens now, alright?” I whispered, reaching out for the tiny little things that seemed to have only recently, perhaps even the morning before, been delivered.
There were only four, all seemingly perfect snowshoes like their mother, making me wonder if they had once been bred and abandoned. It left a disgusted trace in my mind to consider, the lack of respect and love for the life around us so much so as to abandon something you created for money when it no longer served you, leaving it to die so painfully and alone.
I turned to the Omen, “thank you.” A sad smile was all I could muster before returning to my duty to save these poor children from their fate.
It wagged its tendrilled tail in response, just like a real dog, happily barking as though it understood her praise.
Urs was less pleased, "Don't thank it.” He chastised, “It might follow us.”
“Dont be rude. It saved their lives.”
“Hardly. You're the one carrying those little rats.”
“They do look like tiny rats, don't they?” I giggled, smiling at the small wriggling mewing things that were padding at me weakly.
“Yeah yeah, they are cute, whatever. Their mom bit you though! Don't think I will forgive her for that.”
I scoffed, “no need to hold a grudge.”
The hound stayed behind, curling up with the mother as we fled and I hadn't thought much of it at the moment, wanting to prioritize the children first before coming back for her.
“Ms. Pavlenko!” I called out, clutching the babies to my chest as I reached the main plaza that everyone had been gathered at.
She had been in the middle of speaking with a parent while administering medication to one of the children under a sheltered gazebo. I was unsure if the child besides her was safe around cats so I waited around the steps until her conversation was over.
I was a bit anxious and in a hurry, not wanting to leave the mother for so long but I understood that her job was far more important.
“Yes, I was just as surprised. This is a record heatwave so we have to be especially careful. She should be fine so long as she drinks plenty of water and stays cool.”
“Good to know, we really do appreciate you Ms. Pavlenko…”
“Think nothing of it,” she smiled, her eyes darting in my direction for a moment before turning back to the father beside her. “Well, if there is nothing else, It seems I am needed elsewhere.”
“Not that I am aware of. She was just feeling a bit peckish from the heat.”
“Alright well, call on me when you do.”
“Will do Ms Pavlenko.”
She gave me a concerned look as she departed for me, seeing the cluster of babies against my chest. “What is that?” she asked in a hush tone. “Where did you find those? Please tell me you didnt bring them-”
I shook my head, “No. I found them by the wall. They need urgent care. I was hoping you could help me in getting them help and a safe place to keep them while we wait?”
She sighed, nervously looking between the kittens and I before nodding, “Well, alright. Let me get my supervisor-”
“Can I hand them over? Their mother is far worse off and I'd like to bring her over too.”
Ms. Pavlenko shook her head, “No no. I can't touch them.”
“Right.” I sighed, shifting my grip on them so that they meowed out in protest, “Sorry. I understand.”
After a few moments of talking to the supervisor, a spare room in the hospital's more vacant wing was set up for the litter, with another volunteer tasked with watching over them until the rescue service could arrive to handle them. With that taken care of I was quick to return to the mothers side.
It was a regrettable thing really, how quickly life could slip by in such a short span. I could only imagine that the mother had been clinging past her time so that she could tend her children until the last moment permitted to her. The moment we had taken them, I wondered if she had finally chosen to rest for good.
She was still, though warmth remained within her, when I had arrived. Omen was still there, curled up alongside her, supporting her in her last moments so that she would not be alone.
“Told you, Omens.” Urs sighed.
“Why do you say it like that? Are you implying the dog, the omen, killed the mother? Was going to kill the kittens?”
“No, not at all. They can't do anything to the physical world.”
“Then why are you being hostile to such a good dog?” I hummed softly, scratching the large hound behind his ears as it nuzzled into the body of the small cat.
“Just don't like them, okay? Rule number one in our world, don't follow omens unless you want the omen to follow you.”
“How come? If it can't hurt the physical world then why be afraid?”
“Because you have no idea why the omen is there to begin with. It could mean anything. Any kind of huge shift, like a storm. It could mean a bomb might go off, a huge outbreak of the flu to something as small as the death of a stray cat.” he nudged in the direction of the mother that the omen now laid with to make his point. “It's not that the omen can do anything to you, but what the omen might mean is reason enough for caution.”
“I see.” I was saddened by this, watching the dog in its reverence to the death of such a small life that had flickered by in this world almost unnoticed by everything but us. “So that's why it's at this hospital.”
“Probably. I don't know. Omens don't usually just stay somewhere forever. They move on eventually once the residual energy of whatever event brought them fades.”
“So why not this one?”
Urs jumped down, scurrying over to the big hound and jumping on his back just as the dog was rising from his spot. “Dont know, let's find out.” He straddled the hound like a horse, even kicking into his sides playfully with a yelped “giddy up.”
“Do not do this.” I moaned, rubbing my head. “What happened to being scared of omens?”
“Not scared” he muttered disapprovingly at me, “Besides, Might as well be a horseman of the apocalypse if we are going to solve a case related to one.” He kicked at him again. “I said giddy up, partner.”
“Terrible western accent.” I mocked before turning my attention back to the cat. “Should we give her a proper burial?”
“No. Better to leave her for the great nature to run its course. Besides, you don't have any tools.”
I sighed, “Fine fine.” Kneeling down. I plucked a nearby wildflower, purple little bells running along its stem, and placed it gently beside the cat in a display of reverence to her passing. After another moment of silence I turned to the omen, giving it a pat on its head before asking, “Anything else you wanna show me?”
He barked happily, grinning a lopsided dogs grin before sprinting off. Urs let out a shocked yelp, clinging tightly to his furs as they ran together through the vast yard of the hospital. With one last glance back at the body of the kitten, I ran along after the duo.
The Omen brought us to another distant wing on the hospital grounds, one that was still abandoned and long overdue for its own renovations. This branch of the hospital was far disjoined from the main building, its old brick walls crumbling with a myriad of holes that scattered along its sides like bullet wounds. Vines overgrew around its edges, curling into the shattered windows and overtaking it back into the other wild world. It was like a scene in a movie. A young girl wandering into the woods and stumbling upon an overgrown castle that had rejoined its place in the wilderness, like a whimsical palace for fairies and ghosts rediscovered. I was in awe at the beautiful disarray of it all.
Drawn in deeper into the maze of the hospital, the hound barking and prancing with Urs clinging along for the ride, we entered through the collapsed front iron doors, long rusted and eaten away into jagged bits of crinkling red metal shards. The roof had collapsed, some floors caving in from above to expose a jumble of pipes and cables that had run through the floors. Besides that, more trees and shrubs sprouted out in the oddest places as vines curled around old cots. Graffiti lined the walls, but I paid little attention to it, being drawn instead to the long journey of the great nature, as Urs often called it, In reclaiming this place.
It was beautiful.
“I don't like this place…” Urs hissed, ruining the moment with his pessimism.
“What now?”
“Too many bugs.” I gave him a look. “What? I'm a city boy at heart!”
Rolling my eyes, I ventured deeper alongside them, admiring each sprout of shrubbery that emerged from the deep cracks in the concrete and bricks.
Eventually, we came upon a large room that spanned about 15 meters in length with the entire wall covered in old latched windows. The windows were dirty and hard to see through but I could still make out the children's hospital and its corresponding garden where the event was being held in the distance.
What once could have been a commons room or a cafeteria had been turned into a large hospital wing before its abandonment, with cots lining both longer walls. Wolf spiders scurried along the bed sheets, some harvestmen on the walls. Dust and cobwebs lined everything in the room with the more sprouts of saplings bursting through the few shattered windows.
The hound, pleased with our arrival, rolled about on the floor now, dismounting and squashing Urs under his weight as he let out a cry. I chuckled at his misfortune. He deserved it after the amount of pranks he had put me through today.
“Bad Omen, Bad!” He squeaked, squirming from beneath the playful hound who continued to roll about, even attempting to nip at Urs to keep him around like they were both pups of the same pack.
“This is exactly why I left the country!” He cried, fleeing to my side. “I am not a wild Tanuki I dont do rough play.”
I lifted my leg upon his approach, feigning to kick him if he tried to climb me. He skittered to a stop, looking between us before crying out in anguish, “Traitor! You would so easily abandon me?!?”
“Hardly. Play with your new friend. Maybe he will be more receptive to your slime pranks.”
He was unable to reply before the hound pounced on him with a happy bark and more rolling about.
I ignored his pleas, looking around the room for a possible clue to why the Omen would bring us here of all places. The place was old and on the hospital's gated property, but that hardly explained what importance this place could have. It had been, for the most part, scrubbed of its old inhabitants. The blankets folded on the foot of the cots, once clean gowns tidily put away in the drawers besides them.
At one end of the room, there was a bookshelf with an array of old games and books that had been left behind. They were covered in such a thick layer of dust that they looked like grey cotton blobs until I dusted them off with my hand, giving my palm a powdery dry feeling that made my skin itch.
There was an old scrabble game, some old out-dated atlas and dictionaries and other random bits for learning barely useful trivia. While shuffling things around, I accidentally knocked something over that had been hidden behind some of the boxes, landing on the hard ground with a shattering fright that I had spooked myself into a moment of anxiety.
Heart racing, I clutched my chest and breathed, kneeling down to pick up what looked to be an old picture frame. I had to carefully brush off the dust and glass shards to avoid cutting myself, but it was worth it for what I found beneath.
It was an old and dated photo that had faded but was surprisingly colorized, considering it appeared to be a collection of soviet soldiers, nurses and wounded men and women both gathered together in a large garden. Considering the cobblestone pattern and the fountain and gazebo, I imagined it was the same garden the party was being held in, just older and unrenovated. Right in the center of the photo, however, was a large black dog at the foot of some of the soldiers, like he belonged there. I glanced back over to Urs and the Omen, taking note of how identical the two were.
The photo couldn't capture the otherworldliness of the dog, but it didn't matter. If I squinted, I could see those tiny little wisps curling around the officer's legs. One nurse was even petting the large hound, making it all the more clear they were aware of his presence. It made it even more strange, if what Urs said was true and that an Omen didn't stick around for very long in the same place.
“Urs.” I called out, taking a seat on the old dusty cot. “Come look at this.”
There was a heavy shift of weight on the bed, with both Urs and the dog climbing up to get a peak. “Oh hey, It's Omen!” He pointed, hopping into my lap as the omen nuzzled into my ribs.
“Yes, but why? You said they usually leave.”
“I did.” he nodded. “When was this?”
“Probably a little after world war two, when the soviets occupied east Germany.”
“Hmmmmmmm.” he scratched his chin before shrugging, not spending very much time thinking about the predicament to begin with. “I don't know. I'm not an Omen.”
“Fine, go back to playing.” I sighed, pulling out my phone to quickly search for more information about the hospital. I skimmed through the articles I stumbled on, things about the soviets building projects in the area, the origins of the children's hospital, and bombs that had dropped in the area. There were all varying reasons I could imagine an ‘Omen’ appearing, but none of them seemed to give reason for why it would stay.
Looking back at the two, scurrying about and chasing one another on the floor, I thought about what Ms. Pavlenko had told me. The dog was always with the children, she had said. And today, in the yard, the dog had stayed close to the cat as she passed. I couldn't help but wonder if the omen was more than just drawn to certain events.
I looked back at the picture of the smiling people all crowding around the large dog, beaming with joy. Perhaps the omen was here for that reason alone. The last flickers of light before their lives faded out.
“Urs. Let's go. The kids probably miss their clown act.” I pocketed the photo before standing up, ready to deliver my findings by evening.
I suffered through the remaining hours and every ounce of payback Urs had planned for me in leaving him to the dog. He could pretend all he wanted but I saw how much fun he was having, and yet I couldn't complain, knowing that the kids enjoyed the show we gave them and that was what mattered the most in this moment. These children, with their short fragile lives, might not make it past the week, they may not even live to their twenties. My suffering in this moment was inconsequential to their own suffering, the suffering of their parents, and the painful reality that everyone would have to cope with eventually.
Regardless, I was relieved when it was all over and I was fast at work to help clean up while the children were tucked back into their respective wards to eat dinner and calm down after such an eventful day.
“You were amazing with the children. I was worried at first about… well. Hiring you, but your help with the festival alone has been a breath of fresh air.” Ms Pavlenko sighed praise at me as we carried off boxes of unused beverages into the cool storage.
“Think nothing of it. I had a lot of fun myself actually. I think I would make a really great clown detective.”
She laughed along with me before continuing, “Oh, about those cats you brought in. You had been gone for so long before returning and going back to work that I hadn't had a chance to tell you that they were picked up. I saved the number of the service for you in case you wanted to check on them.”
“Oh, thank you.” She handed me a folded piece of paper. “I have something for you too, actually.”
“Is that so?” She blinked, leaning in to whisper, “Is it about my request?”
I nodded. “Genau. It was actually the dog that brought me to the cats.”
She gasped and I could almost read her next question before it came, “He didn't do anything to them. He just brought us- me to the cats. He's an omen, which means he can't directly do anything to the physical world.”
“An… Omen?”
“Yes, it's a type of fae that is attracted to premonitions of huge events. In this case, the omen seems to be attracted to… well… the children.” I gulped, pulling out the picture I had saved. “Here. This was in the old abandoned wing on the hospital grounds. This dog has been here for a long time, it seems. I think he wants to be there for the children, just like you and me.”
She carefully took the picture, looking over it before gently handing it back to me, nudging me to keep it. “I see, and what about allergies? Is it safe?”
I nodded, “Of course. It's not a real dog, it just looks like one, probably because it thinks we will be more comfortable with it that way. Fae also don't really carry diseases like other animals can so it can't get the children sick either. If its easier for you, just think of it like a ghost dog that plays with the kids and tries to keep them company when they are suffering?”
She sighed, chewing on her lips and shifting about, clearly not the most pleased with the news. After a few moments of weighing my words, she seemed to come to terms with it, at least as much as she could in such a short time, before nodding wordlessly and sighing again.
“If you still don't like it, you can always change where you work but because this isn't a physical creature and is more of an apparition, there is nothing I can do except give you advice on what to expect from it.”
“Nono, all is good.” She shook her head with more sighs. “I was worried, really, that it could hurt the children. They adore the dog anyways so, if you say it can cause no harm then I have nothing to fear.”
I smiled, “ I think the dog loves the children too.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Characters: Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, My Unit | Byleth
Additional Tags: Vampire My Unit | Byleth, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Malkavian (Vampire: The Masquerade), Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood Drinking, Dark Romance, Modern Era
Summary:
Sylvain takes Dimitri to a nightclub located in the heart of the Garreg Mach city state nightlife. He meets Byleth and is instantly obsessed.
PSA TO ALL READERS while wandering around a mall today I was ensnared by a powerful force that bade me enter a place called Barnes & Noble. in a daze I wandered the displays and was compelled to even pick up several books that this force attempted to foist upon me at great personal cost to myself. it was only through great strength of will that I was able to fight off this befouling force by withdrawing my cellular device from my pocket and logging into my library account to place requests for the same books at no cost that i was able to escape without grievous harm. truly it's crazy out there, stay safe and remember that libraries are always there to provide aid as you fight against such forces of darkness
Something I do, because often times my library does not have new releases I want to read due to the limited translation options, is buy the book and then donate it to my library so that another person can read the book and enjoy it, regardless of my feelings on the book.
Of course there are books I really like and want to read again and sometimes I keep those, but there is no greater feeling than donating your books to your community.
hey quick PSA but “reading before bed to wind down” only works if you’re normal about books btw. if you aren’t you are going to end up awake at 2:52am after finishing the whole book just trust me on this one
Me at 19:00 when I pick up the first book to a random series: "Just a few pages."
23:30: "Just a few more pages and I will finally finish book 3 of the series!!!!!!!!!!!"
Don't donate to World Central Kitchen because even after their members were murdered by Israel, the founder Jose Andreas still collaborated with Israel and recently they served displaced Israeli settlers bombed by Iran and Hezbollah
it actually makes me feel fully out of touch with consensus when people say an author is anti-war "because he said war is hell!"
please. please. do you know a single thing about Recorded Human History. "war is hell" is so, so frequently THE pro-war take, and the entire reason soldiers and officers receive social esteem for fighting. the honorable duty of undergoing The Trials Of War on behalf of your polity &/or beliefs is one of the fundamental cornerstones of masculinity in SO, SO many human cultures. what is anyone EVEN SAYING!!!
in a modern context, one could even argue that the emphasis placed on the traumatic nature of waging war, of participating in war, is part of how the participants morally absolve themselves from their participation. There is a common idea in liberalism (but not only in liberalism) that the trauma of killing one person, or ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, et cetera, is its own punishment, regardless of whether the persons killed were soldiers or civilians, whether it could even be considered right or wrong, whether it was necessary or unnecessary to kill them. Under this logic, renumeration or reconstruction for the victims is considered functionally irrelevant because of the exonerating suffering of the soldier.
In “Israel” they call this kind of narrative in media “Shooting and crying.”
This kind of apologia is/was often applied to the US military’s actions in every historical conflict, up to the present day. I have also seen American police officers use this kind of apologia when they are criticized for discrimination, murder, and various other crimes. They say “Oh, you civilians couldn’t possibly understand how hard it is to be a cop. It’s so difficult and traumatic.”
I think this idea of “exonerating trauma” is both dangerous and widespread. I’m sure there are many other examples of this type of rhetoric.
Furthermore, Instead of "anti-war" sentiments, I want pro war sentiments. Common people fighting in the trenches for the right to live a decent life and celebrating their freedom from bondage to an exploitative murder regime.
Everyone who does the "anti-war" bit also, almost on beat, ignore poverty and famine and power imbalances as a simple necessity for peace.
Sometimes, Peasant turned Noble MC gives a poor person some bread and starts doing little acts of charity and mysterious reforms while still living in a lap of luxury and wins everyone's hearts with their brilliant messaging of; "we shouldn't fight! We should forgive one another instead". (As if the aggression was never a retaliation to some kind of offense made in the first place.)
It is such a repetitive and tone deaf take that I am tired of seeing it. This messaging literally perpetuates every single problem today.
The "Anti-war" schtick isn't stopping war. It's encouraging complacency of suffering.
I have been going through my Goodreads reading list backlog and ended up binging the "Once Upon a Broken Heart" series and I'm really mixed about how to compose my review for this. I enjoyed the series but im so mixed on how I feel about the relationship dynamic of the leads.
On one hand, I want to buy the series for my book shelf which I consider an honor. (If I can't get the book at a library I may still buy it but I donate it to the library if I don't enjoy it enough to endorse it via shelving praise and I am very critical and picky so it says a lot for me that I want to shelve it.)
On the other hand, there are some concerns I have about potential harmful behaviors I may be endorsing if I give It a glowing review.
Give me your opinions, even controversial. Did you love it? Did You hate it? Spicy Feminist Takes?
Bro, how are you going to make a claim and when I question your claim, mock me and belittle me, tell me I am denying reality or that I looked at the wrong sources and then when I am fed up with your attitude tell you to send me the sources or you are a liar and its not my job to find the sources for your claim, call me a jackass and block me LMAO tf
boohoo now I will never know the sources to the claim and continue to be a source-less liberal. Guess I will never be a true comrade now u-u
I hate when ppl do ableism and then gaslight you about it. Just asking for you to treat me with basic human decency because I have a social disability and then you tell me "Uhm, don't tell me how to do my job and I wont tell you how to be autistic" then ban me for "being argumentative and asking for us to change for them."
Like, excuse me? lol, this all started bc you told me that I should send my messages to a mod so it can be proof-read for screen readers.
Your community doesn't care about screen readers when you post your memes or videos, but me, the person who told you that they are autistic and do not know how to write short form, needs to learn to adjust for the screen readers that nobody else is adjusting to.
The screen readers were an excuse to dehumanize and passively aggressively ostracize me.
Then, once more, you told me it was my job to change my autism. Imagine if you told that to the screen reader users if they said they had a problem.
Fucking talking to me like you're some corpo-HR manager team who cares oh so much about making the space feel inclusive and welcoming and then telling me to stop being autistic LMAO.
I am so tired, as a biological autistic woman, trying to make friends and join female dominated spaces to only constantly be met with this kind of HR- Anti-Social rhetoric.
If you are an outspoken, opinionated autistic woman, they will always cut you out and say its your fault then tote about how inclusive they are because the normal passing neurodivergent people can stand to be in the same room as them.
I am just so fucking done. Why do I even try at this point? Who needs a community when they all hate you. They will never like you unless you find a way to completely lobotomize yourself for their approval.
No hate to the screen readers btw, I just really do not see how hard it is for a mod to just translate to them if it was asked? Like, why is it MY job to do the thing i just said I CANT do lol. and why do I need to dm a fucking mod when i want to talk to make sure, thats turning it into an entire thing. Like, its like making the handicap access a thing that brings attention and makes you feel uncomfortable and less and like I am just one person why is it such a big deal out of like the 20 mods to just help me integrate into their bookclub space?
Like, idk, Imagine if I had my arms amputated and then you told me that I need to learn sign for the deaf ppl in the room like WHAT. That's how this feels to me. Not the same same, but the vibes are kind of there? IDK im just so mad ok im tweaking out over this.
Anyways, ableism is disgusting and weaponizing another disability to hurt someone else is fucking disgusting too. If you want to be inclusive just treat people like normal fucking human beings. Its that fucking easy. So sorry it offended the mods when I told them to cut the HR crap and talk to me like a human and if they are going to constantly mediate every conversation don't victim blame and shut down an issue to turn it into a big thing that is humiliating.
This is the Goodreads Discord Server btw. If you are like me and struggle with your Autism, don't go to that place. I only got banned because I don't take shit and idc if you are going to call me a Karen for it, I have boundaries and I swore to myself I would not doormat myself ever again.
I'll start with Lenin first, then move to Marx. Lenin was an autocrat and a dictator. There's no way around it. He was unelected and created a one-party state. This was due to the fact that the revolution was led by a vanguard, which the members of, once they succeeded in overthrowing the old government, could easily set up a self-serving dictatorship. He's not a Marxist, and he's not a Socialist.
Since Lenin obviously did not in any way uphold the vision of Marx, I'll tackle him separately. A (stateless) communist society does eliminate many hierarchies, but leaves the most coercive systems untouched. Those being: the hierarchy of the collective over the individual and that coercion required of industrialism. In a commune, one's individual vote is negligible, since the outcome is only affected by one person's vote in very rare circumstances. Once the votes are tallied, the individual is expected to conform to the decisions of the majority, and to accept the commune's laws and customs. This leads to the individual becoming feeling helpless and weak.
Secondly, Marxism fails to address the coercion required to make an industrial society function. In order to have products, you must have a payroll of workers to stand where they are told to stand and do what they are told to do and go home and show up to work when they are told to do it. Instead of working towards goals that are immediate, which directly affect one's condition (such as building a house to live in), one must do a task or set of tasks that ultimately has little to do directly with one's own material well-being. Instead, the hyperspecialized work required in an industrial society is made livable indirectly via trade. This leads to a dependence on the industrial system as a whole, which requires a massive amount of cohesion to function.
Humans are no longer permitted to act autonomously since doing so would be a hindrance to the system. Behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed, but all unimportant facets of our life which do not interfere with the functioning of the system are permitted to grow within said limits.
Lenin was elected as Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars by the Congress of Soviets a total of nine times before his death. His position was not one elected by the people directly, but rather he was elected by the congressional representatives of the soviets who were themselves elected by the people. You can argue that his position should have been directly elected if you want, but you cannot say he was unelected. Regardless, while the Chairman of the CPC was the head of government of the RSFSR, and later the Soviet Union, the CPC was not a one-person council and the council as a whole was subordinate to the Central Executive Committee, which was in turn subordinate to the Congress of Soviets. Lenin was not an autocrat or a dictator; he did not hold sole legal authority and the Soviet government had numerous checks and balances.
I see no reason to believe a vanguard party or a one-party state is undemocratic. The USSR was a dictatorship, but not a dictatorship of one person. It was a dictatorship of the proletariat, as the bourgeoisie were stripped of the right to vote and to be elected. You can object to this if you like, but I personally don't think that was a bad decision.
You seem to be arguing that Lenin was neither Marxist nor socialist because the nascent Soviet Union was not yet classless or stateless. Yet why should it have been expected to be? Communism is not something that can be achieved overnight, or even in one generation. In the meantime, there must be some mechanism for suppressing and overthrowing the bourgeoisie. No matter how democratic, how horizontal, and how people-oriented that mechanism is, it still constitutes a state insofar as it constitutes an organ for the oppression of one class by another. Unless you are arguing that the rights of the bourgeoisie should be maintained and protected, you cannot escape this fact.
At the point of achieving a stateless, classless communist society, I don't see why decision-making would necessarily be performed through simple majority vote. While it's rather pointless in my mind to be speculating about how a hypothetical communist society of the future might function, I think it's safe to say they'd be far more capable of exploring alternative forms of decision-making than we are now. In any case, the question of how a future communist society might function is entirely separate from questions of past and present systems of government.
You are right to point out that the industrial mode of production requires collective and specialized activity in order to function, but I fail to see what the alternative is. Humans are a social animal, our production has always been collective and we have always benefited from specialization in labor. The advancement in industry has made possible a reduction in socially necessary labor time, not an increase. It is capitalism and the profit motive that has mandated long hours and low autonomy in the workplace, not industry itself.
People are not inherently stupid or self-centered. They can understand very well the relationship between one sector of industry and another. You do not need to be building a house to understand how, for instance, the nails you are manufacturing will be used to build houses and other goods. You do not need to be manufacturing nails to understand how the iron you are mining will be used to make nails and other goods. The idea that it is alienating to be engaged in a task that is socially beneficial rather than merely individually beneficial is absurd.
You talk about social cohesion as if it is impossible or undesirable. But again, what is the alternative? An incoherent, fragmented society? No society at all, and people just fend for themselves as individuals? I fail to see how anything less than social cohesion is desirable.
You say that industrial society is coercive and prevents people from acting autonomously. I say, what does it mean to act autonomously? Humans must satisfy our basic needs before we can think about engaging in autonomous activity. If you are starving, you are compelled to seek food. If you are freezing, you are compelled to seek shelter. Individual freedom is subordinate to our material conditions, and only through improving our material conditions can we satisfy our basic needs and guarantee individual freedom.
If we are to have a society where the individual freedoms of everyone are maximized, then we must have a society which guarantees everyone their basic needs. Food, shelter, clothing, medicine, education, transportation, communication, etc. All of these must be secured before a person has full freedom to act autonomously. Improving the quality of these things and the efficiency of their production improves the standard of living and reduces socially necessary labor time, which allows for greater degrees of freedom.
You say behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed. I do not necessarily disagree, but I feel you are intentionally obscuring the nature of such behaviors. What is “the system” here? The system is society. So a behavior not conducive to society is an anti-social behavior, a behavior that impedes or harms other members of society. Why should these behaviors be allowed? Is it maximizing autonomy and freedom to allow someone to steal or rape or murder with impunity? No, it is merely trading someone else's freedom and autonomy for your own.
You can certainly maximize your own freedom and autonomy at the expense of others, but if we are to live in a society where the freedom and autonomy of everyone is to be maximized, then there must be certain limits to individual behavior for the sake of others. Maybe someday humanity will evolve to a state where one can live in their own private world with maximum freedom to do as they please without worrying about impacting others, but until that day we will have to live in a society with other people and the social restrictions that come with that. Personally, I don't think it's such a burden to have to care about other people.
Society as it stands today is indeed imperfect and often oppressive. Socialist states in the past and present have yet to achieve the classlessness and statelessness that marks higher-stage socialism, i.e. communism. They too are imperfect and have restricted people's behavior in various ways, some I would argue are necessary, and some I would argue are unnecessary. However, I believe that socialism offers us the greatest opportunity to improve society as a whole and liberate humanity from oppressive structures. I believe that capitalism remains the central impediment to the advancement of society and the pursuit of human freedom. I believe that a vanguard party and a dictatorship of the proletariat have been the most effective means of combating the bourgeoisie so far. And I believe that the advancement of science and industry has been the most effective means of securing and improving the basic needs of the people as a whole.
My question to you remains: what is the alternative? You can criticize all you want, and thoughtful and rational critique of all things is both important and beneficial, but unless you have an alternative to socialist revolution and industrial society, then you're just throwing the baby out with the bathwater. How are we to combat the bourgeoisie without a vanguard or a state? How are we to provide people with their basic needs without industrial production?
hey is the world doomed if the nazi right gains government control of the global north. freaked out by germanys election results
I mean, there's arguments to be made about whether or not they ever lost control in the first place (there were former Nazis in leading roles in NATO during the Cold War, after all) and how distinct Nazism was from imperialism and colonialism besides the fact that Europeans were the ones being victimized, but in general, I don't think the world is any more "doomed" now than it was in the 20th century. Yes, Hitler killed millions of people. He was still defeated.
The rise of reactionary right-wing politics is fueled by the same conditions which offer opportunities for the left. AfD might be making gains, but so is Die Linke. We shouldn't be passive and think everything's just going to automatically be fine, but we should not let fear lead to inaction either.
Now more than ever we need to agitate and organize against the conditions that have led us to where we are now. We need to make sure that everyone who is concerned about the rise of the right knows that this is not some horrendous exception to bourgeois liberalism but a direct consequence of it. The liberals are not going to save us. We have to save ourselves, and we have to do it together.
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i watched the livestream of trump signing executive orders and answering questions from the press. here are some of the big ones + other things mentioned today:
trump declared a national emergency at the southern border + is getting the US military more involved in stopping "invasions including mass migration"
no one can declare asylum in the US
all existing appointments for people wanting to legally become US citizens are canceled
birthright citizenship (aka the 14th amendment) is now gone
ICE sweeps beginning "soon," not specifying when (though there are rumors it's starting tomorrow in sanctuary cities such as chicago)
mexican cartels are now designated "foreign terrorist organizations" and trump is not opposed to US troops entering mexico to eliminate them
he restored the death penalty for "crimes committed by illegal aliens"
biden had signed an executive order attempting to stop cops from using chokeholds or doing no-knock warrants. trump just revoked that order
25% tariffs on canada and mexico begin on feb 1 2025 — expect a lot of produce imported from mexico to get more expensive soon
tariffs on china will begin soon, not specified when
trump said he intends to take back the panama canal, did not specify when or how
january 6 insurrectionists are to be immediately released/pardoned
he pardoned the leader of the proud boys
tiktok has a 90 day extension, during which the US gov will try to buy 50% of tiktok. trump said he no longer cares that china is "spying on our young people," but he wants to buy half of tiktok so the US government "can police it a little bit, or a lot." if tiktok will not sell, it will be banned in the US again.
he claims the people of greenland want to become part of the US
he says the gulf of mexico is now to be called the "gulf of america" + denali is now to be called "mount mckinley"
alaska is to be mined and become the US' main source for fossil fuels
the green new deal and "electric vehicle" (green energy) mandates are over
the US has withdrawn from the paris climate agreement
the US has withdrawn from the world health organization
reproductiverights.gov is already gone
the US now "only recognizes two genders, male and female"
trans women prisoners are to be housed in male prisons; gender affirming care for prisoners is gone
self-identification for gender on passports, government IDs, and social security cards is gone
all federal employees are required to work in the office five days a week, no more working from home
trump said the US is going to "pursue our manifest destiny into the stars" and plant a US flag on mars
sources on what executive orders were signed: one two three
and lastly, some things that happened during the inauguration:
the pastor who blessed the inauguration during the swearing in ceremony has already announced a new meme coin/cryptocurrency
trump did not put his hand on the bible + there are rumors the pope is going to say trump is the antichrist
the wealthiest people on the planet — the CEOs of twitter/tesla, amazon, google, meta, and even the CEO of tiktok — who own almost all communication platforms used by westerners — stood directly behind trump as he was sworn in
elon musk, the wealthiest person alive, who has been given his own vaguely-defined US government agency, did a nazi salute on stage at the presidential podium. neo-nazis are already celebrating
It must be made clear, this is not just a threat of America, but all of us. Elon Musk is actively making efforts to interfere with European politics to push alt right extremism.
He has voiced support for problematic figures such as AfD in Germany, Alice Weidel, and far right agitator in UK, Tommy Robinson.
And the policies by the Trump administration have long reaching consequences. There is already discussions on who qualifies as American citizens, term limits and AI mass surveillance. Whether these are distractions or not, it is concerning that the discussion is even being had.
