#(we only root against it on principle

[springtrappd]

i think one of the biggest reasons the mimic grates on so many people (including myself) is because it's pay-off without set-up. like. you can have a story about a machine that recreates the horrors of the past in a metaphor for the cycle of abuse & how trauma bleeds into future generations, sure, but you need to write that story first. you don't get to work backwards from your twist! that's not how stories work!!

[comicaurora]

I'm sorry that the terfs made their way onto your blog but it does feel good to see you support trans people. Thank you for that

Always.

I think, charitably, that the discourse going down on that post is an extrapolation and over-focus on one element of the point I was making: that for me, determining with certainty that I was cis was a rather fraught process. I was presented with many alternatives, but underlying their imposition on me was the oddly regressive idea that the things I liked, the principles I valued, the parts of myself I was proud of were not permitted of women. My whole life I got smacked with the background radiation that I couldn't like being strong because women aren't allowed to be stronger than men. I couldn't like being loud and boistrous because women aren't allowed to take up space. I couldn't be a math geek because women aren't smart. It was all deeply regressive misogyny from day one, but I started getting hit with it slathered in a fresh coat of paint - all those assumptions still held to be true, but now there was the out that I could do all those things if I just wasn't a woman.

Concluding that the underlying bioessentialist premise was wrong was very important. Absolutely none of those statements were true, and were only ever maintained by cultural saturation, goalpost-readjustment when they were actively disproven, and the occasional bout of lying with statistics to pretend they weren't just Shit All The Way Down. The core premise that certain things were only permitted of or possible for men was bullshit, and I didn't need to surrender the gender I liked best in order to play in the spaces I wanted to. I could simply exist the way I was already existing. I didn't need anything else.

The misinterpretation is the assumption that this being true of me means this is everybody's relationship with gender. I turned out to be cis, so for me, feeling that holding onto my assigned gender wasn't allowed was distressing - just another invocation of the same bioessentialist bullshit I'd been dealing with since the preschool playground. This is because misgendering is fundamentally denying that a person has the right to express themself the way they want. When aimed at me, it says I'm not performing traditional femininity well enough to deserve my pronouns. The same disrespect is the root of misgendering when aimed at trans people. "Perform your gender to my satisfaction or I will confiscate it."

The problem is, bioessentialism is 100% ingrained into the terf playbook, which is why, for instance, all their shitty talking points about trans athletes eventually boil down to "no woman can ever defeat a man in any contest because we are simply naturally weak and stupid and there is nothing we can do about it" and quite frankly nothing disgusts me more than the defeatist acceptance of the very lie that feminism is dedicated to overcoming. Instead of accepting that the paradigm of bioessentialism is a false dichotomy right from the jump, they embrace and weaponize it against the people whose existence proves the dichotomy is a lie. If gender essentialism is fundamentally false, then it is nobody's fucking business what anybody does with their gender. If the lines don't exist, nobody needs to enforce them. And yet there the terfs go, hunting down people whose lives are none of their business and trying to argue that they represent some great and terrible evil, some downfall of society made flesh, something that makes it totally correct and normal for them to spend so much time thinking about strangers' genitalia. They want this to be a noble crusade so badly they won't even examine what flag they're flying.

I love and support the trans people in my life and will always, always stand on the side of your right to exist, but alongside that, terf rhetoric especially disgusts and infuriates me because it is, at its heart, utter cowardice. The world told them they were weak and stupid and inferior and they fucking believed it. And now they think Fighting The Good Fight For Women means turning around and using the same paradigmatic weapon that hurt them to hurt the people whose existence outside the binary proves the weapon is a lie. They're the same shithead schoolyard bullies who made me believe my entire existence was foundationally wrong for years of my life and I will never, ever side with them or the shitty, cowardly rhetoric that contributed to the loneliest years of my life.

Figure out who you are and do it on purpose. Find the real source of the misery in your life and try fighting that instead of the other crabs in the bucket. Trans rights.

[wheelie-sick]

cripple punk does not pander to the able bodied

-Tyler, the principles of cripplepunk

I feel like far too many people have caused the cripplepunk movement to stray from its original principles. people have begun to treat the hashtag as if it's a general disability tag and not a movement full of people who are united in a cause.

people have forgotten its roots

where the community was once based around radical ideas of disability now even the slightest dusting of radical ideology is smothered by dozens of people dogpiling in an effort to remove the voices of radical disabled people. you cannot express distaste for the actions of ablebodied people without a swarm of so called cripplepunks racing to justify their actions.

"the accessible stall is only for people who need it"

"well, what if an ablebodied person just feels more comfortable there?"

and

"we can't make a stall exclusive!"

as if I am not more than uncomfortable in an inaccessible stall (I can't get in) and as if ablebodied people haven't made every single other stall in the bathroom exclusive to them.

it's pandering to the ablebodied at its finest. this is a wide spread and growing problem in the community. statements that put physically disabled people first are instantly shut down. it's a violation of the core principles driving the community and the movement.

and this hasn't been without consequences. radical cripplepunks are being driven away from the movement and community by the constant onslaught of harassment by so called cripplepunks. this only furthers the problem as people who cater to the ablebodied become a larger and larger percentage of the community.

and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the constant justification of ableism happening against me, the use of theoreticals to shut down my real problems. I'm tired of watching the same thing happen to my friends and mutuals who are constantly bombarded with hate for daring to say "ableism is bad"

I'm not leaving. but if you're doing this, you should. you don't belong in a movement you can't follow the principles of. you don't belong in the tags you can't follow the principles of. this was a movement created based on the core idea that physically disabled people come first. by putting ablebodied people above us you say that we are lesser. either follow the principles or get out.

[antigonick]

Fascism became an all-purpose term because one can eliminate from a fascist regime one or more features, and it will still be recognizable as fascist. […] But in spite of this fuzziness, I think it is possible to outline a list of features that are typical of what I would like to call Ur-Fascism, or Eternal Fascism. These features cannot be organized into a system; many of them contradict each other, and are also typical of other kinds of despotism or fanaticism. But it is enough that one of them be present to allow fascism to coagulate around it.

The first feature of Ur-Fascism is the cult of tradition [and syncretism]. Syncretism is not only, as the dictionary says, “the combination of different forms of belief or practice”; such a combination must tolerate contradictions. Each of the original messages contains a sliver of wisdom, and whenever they seem to say different or incompatible things it is only because all are alluding, allegorically, to the same primeval truth. As a consequence, there can be no advancement of learning. Truth has been already spelled out once and for all, and we can only keep interpreting its obscure message. […]

Traditionalism implies the rejection of modernism. [… For the Nazis], the rejection of the modern world was disguised as a rebuttal of the capitalistic way of life, but it mainly concerned the rejection of the Spirit of 1789 (and of 1776, of course). The Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, is seen as the beginning of modern depravity. In this sense Ur-Fascism can be defined as irrationalism.

Irrationalism also depends on the cult of action for action’s sake. Action being beautiful in itself, it must be taken before, or without, any previous reflection. Thinking is a form of emasculation. Therefore culture is suspect insofar as it is identified with critical attitudes. […]

No syncretistic faith can withstand analytical criticism. The critical spirit makes distinctions, and to distinguish is a sign of modernism. In modern culture the scientific community praises disagreement as a way to improve knowledge. For Ur-Fascism, disagreement is treason.

Besides, disagreement is a sign of diversity. Ur-Fascism grows up and seeks for consensus by exploiting and exacerbating the natural fear of difference. The first appeal of a fascist or prematurely fascist movement is an appeal against the intruders. Thus Ur-Fascism is racist by definition.

Ur-Fascism derives from individual or social frustration. That is why one of the most typical features of the historical fascism was the appeal to a frustrated middle class, a class suffering from an economic crisis or feelings of political humiliation, and frightened by the pressure of lower social groups [or other minorities]. [...]

To people who feel deprived of a clear social identity, Ur-Fascism says that their only privilege is the most common one, to be born in the same country. This is the origin of nationalism. Besides, the only ones who can provide an identity to the nation are its enemies. Thus at the root of the Ur-Fascist psychology there is the obsession with a plot, possibly an international one. [...]

[B]y a continuous shifting of rhetorical focus, the enemies are at the same time too strong and too weak.

For Ur-Fascism there is no struggle for life but, rather, life is lived for struggle. Thus pacifism is trafficking with the enemy. It is bad because life is permanent warfare. This, however, brings about an Armageddon complex. Since enemies have to be defeated, there must be a final battle, after which the movement will have control of the world. But such a “final solution” implies a further era of peace, a Golden Age, which contradicts the principle of permanent war. No fascist leader has ever succeeded in solving this predicament.

Elitism is a typical aspect of any reactionary ideology, insofar as it is fundamentally aristocratic, and aristocratic and militaristic elitism cruelly implies contempt for the weak. Ur-Fascism can only advocate a popular elitism. Every citizen belongs to the best people of the world, the members of the party are the best among the citizens, every citizen can (or ought to) become a member of the party. But there cannot be patricians without plebeians. Since the group is hierarchically organized (according to a military model), every subordinate leader despises his own underlings, and each of them despises his inferiors. This reinforces the sense of mass elitism.

In such a perspective everybody is educated to become a hero. In every mythology the hero is an exceptional being, but in Ur-Fascist ideology, heroism is the norm. [...] The Ur-Fascist hero craves heroic death, advertised as the best reward for a heroic life. The Ur-Fascist hero is impatient to die. In his impatience, he more frequently sends other people to death.

Since both permanent war and heroism are difficult games to play, the Ur-Fascist transfers his will to power to sexual matters. This is the origin of machismo (which implies both disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality).

Ur-Fascism is based upon a selective populism, a qualitative populism, one might say. [...] For Ur-Fascism, however, individuals as individuals have no rights, and the People is conceived as a quality, a monolithic entity expressing the Common Will. Since no large quantity of human beings can have a common will, the Leader pretends to be their interpreter. Having lost their power of delegation, citizens do not act; they are only called on to play the role of the People. Thus the People is only a theatrical fiction. [...] There is in our future a TV or Internet populism, in which the emotional response of a selected group of citizens can be presented and accepted as the Voice of the People. Because of its qualitative populism Ur-Fascism must be against “rotten” parliamentary governments. Wherever a politician casts doubt on the legitimacy of a parliament because it no longer represents the Voice of the People, we can smell Ur-Fascism.

Ur-Fascism speaks Newspeak. Newspeak was invented by Orwell, in 1984, as the official language of Ingsoc, English Socialism. But elements of Ur-Fascism are common to different forms of dictatorship. All the Nazi or Fascist schoolbooks made use of an impoverished vocabulary, and an elementary syntax, in order to limit the instruments for complex and critical reasoning.

—Umberto Eco, in "Ur-Fascism or Eternal Fascism: Fourteen Ways of Looking at a Blackshirt”

[psychoticallytrans]

I believe very strongly that if you want to be an ally to marginalized groups, you should absolutely read and watch material bigoted against them.

This is because one of the big things that radicalization pipelines benefit from is the principle I've seen framed as "milk before meat", where they feed you palatable, easily digestible ideas, often with a kernel of truth, in order to work you up to the core of the bigoted ideology. If you go to the meat first, you will choke on it. This will make you more easily able to spot it when they try to feed you the milk, and more resistant because you know the meat it's building up to.

There are two keys. First, you need to start with the meat, and second, you need to read it with a sharply critical eye.

If you're looking to read something fatphobic, for example, Harry Potter may be a great mainstream example, but it's in a way that is so culturally acceptable that it can slip by if you aren't looking for it. "None For You: How Fat People Are Ruining America and the Planet and What You Can Do About It", on the other hand, is rather obvious in its biases, allowing an amateur to see them clearly for easier interrogation of the premise. Most bigoted material can be acquired by piracy or through your local library. This is one of the big reasons that libraries stock bigoted material.

Then, start noting down all of the things that the material says that seem to make sense, or that you are sure are true. There's no shame in this. Bigoted ideas are ingrained in your upbringing, and on top of this, a lot of bigots will take real problems and build on them in ways that are bigoted.

For instance, anti-immigrant sentiment in the USA is often bolstered by the fact that wages in the USA are effectively decreasing, along with job security. They say that this is because immigrants are taking the jobs, decreasing the amount of value that is available to USAmericans. To a USAmerican who does not know much about immigrants, but does know that their paycheck buys less and less, this sounds like a plausible explanation.

Then, later, look up exactly what they are saying. What are the real issues? (Racism and unchecked capitalism.) Why are they being used to bolster this argument? (Because it takes the heat off of powerful people and puts it on powerless ones, redirecting the hate to people it can more easily hurt, which satisfies the rage of the USAmerican, drives a wedge between them and immigrants, and takes heat off of the powerful.) What are real ways to tackle the real issue? (Solidarity with immigrant workers, especially undocumented ones, unions, and working for better social safety nets.) Why did I fall for that? (You did not have enough information.) Can I notice this rhetoric in the future and avoid falling for it? (Yes.)

Know that many of the ideas you encounter will be normal. Much bigotry is normal. Normal is not automatically good or right.

Know that there will be useful ideas interspersed with some bigotry. A lot of people with useful ideas have been bigots. This does not mean we must discard their ideas, nor that we must accept the bigotry. It does mean that we need to critically examine the ideas to see if they are rooted in and/or affected by the bigotry, and if it is possible to effectively remove them from their bigoted origins, or if the bigotry is so wound into the ideas that they is no longer useful if you wish to avoid harming the group the thinker was bigoted against.

This is difficult work to do. It is intellectually intensive, and emotionally exhausting. You will start seeing bigotry in all kinds of places, including media you thought of as "good" and "progressive", and that will also be emotionally exhausting and dispiriting. It will also mean that you are no longer passively absorbing those bigoted ideas because you settled on the idea that this media is "good" and that as long as you only consume "good" media, you will be free of bigoted ideas- a premise that is disturbingly popular for how incorrect it is. Knowing how to recognize and discard bigotry in works is far, far more useful than flatly refusing to consume more overtly bigoted works.

One way to make it easier is to form reading groups, so that you can lean on each other when reading something that's affecting you badly. It also means that there's more than one person processing the bigotry, so other people might notice more subtle parts of the bigotry that slipped past you in your own reading, allowing you to have a fuller picture of the book. If you can't form a reading group, more famous bigoted works often have criticism available online for you to read through. Remember to do your own research. What makes doing this so valuable is increasing your own ability to detect bigotry and to think critically about material you are consuming.

You do not have to limit yourself to traditional media, either. There are forums and social media bubbles that are hotbeds of bubbling, seething bigotry that is more extreme and repugnant than the vast majority of published work. Reading these conversations can be useful for the exact same reasons that reading overtly bigoted books, articles, letters, and essays can be, and they often contain more up to date dogwhistles. However, this is a riskier move. Social media is built to make you keep scrolling, and you can easily find yourself at your wits end and vulnerable to a bigot whose rhetoric is slightly less obvious than the others. In addition, it can be tempting to interact- at which point the bigots will either attack you or try to recruit you, both of which are damaging to you. Only read the conversations of bigots if you are well supported and have strong impulse control, and read them in small doses.

You are not immune to propaganda, but you can partially inoculate yourself into being less vulnerable by consuming it in controlled circumstances that match your ability to recognize it as such and reject it.

[wilwheaton]

The five Justices in the majority opinion, however, went farther than necessary to insulate insurrectionists from being disqualified from federal elections. They didn’t just rule that states cannot disqualify Trump, or Presidential candidates, but rather that states cannot disqualify any insurrectionist candidates for federal office. The Justices gave all the power to a notoriously dysfunctional Congress to do so, even though Section Five did not explicitly make Congress the sole enforcing authority of Section Three. As in the Dobbs case that overturned 50 years of Roe v. Wade, the conservative principle of “judicial restraint” does not exist with this Supreme Court. Republicans like to blast “activist judges,” but as we see yet again, an “activist judge” is just someone who rules against you. Under the Supreme Court’s expansive ruling, a state is currently unable to disqualify a candidate for federal office who engaged in insurrection, even if that person has been charged and convicted of insurrection. Even a federal court would be unable to bounce an insurrectionist from the ballot absent a law enacted by Congress.

There's No Restraining This Activist Supreme Court

This SCOTUS needs to be burned to the ground and rebuilt with actual Justices, instead of these unelected activists who are opposed by nearly 8 in 10 Americans.

The Courts are not going to save us. The Courts aren’t even going to enforce existing laws that were written to protect us. The Courts are actively working against Democracy and doing everything The Courts can do to hasten Fascism’s hold on the levers of power. Fascism has already come to America. It is taking root in every state that is under Republican occupation, urged on and enabled by this SCOTUS majority, and their ideological partners in the House and Senate. The only way we can stop this from spreading like a Zerg creep over all of America is to overwhelmingly put Democrats into office and then force them to act.

If Congress won’t do something to limit the grotesque abuses of power by people who don’t interpret the law, but make law from the bench, it will be up to America to rise up and demand action. 

I refuse to be ruled by 6 Christofascist Nationalists, and I refuse to sit quietly while people who have the legal means to do something throw up their hands and furrow their brows.

This is going to be our last election that matters, if we don’t.

I’m serious. If Trump somehow gets into the White House again, we will never have another election in my lifetime.

LISTEN TO ME: any vote that is not for Joe Biden is a vote to end Democracy in America. Any vote that is not for a Democrat is a vote to end Democracy in America. When I see people insisting they won’t support Biden or Democrats because they aren’t Left enough, I want to pull my hair out. The stakes are too high for all of us -- especially the most vulnerable among us -- to indulge temper tantrums.

It’s a very simple choice: you can vote for Biden and Democrats, or you can vote to turn America into a Christian Nationalist Theocracy, ruled by autocrats.

This will be our last free election, if Republicans are not resoundingly and forcefully rejected at all levels.

[space-blue]

Arcane 2 Trailer time!

Imagine this chick comes into your office and tells you what to do? What are you gonna do?? Tell her no?????

Overall Ambessa and Sevika are really making this season MILF o'clock.

It would seem that early season will focus on Jinx terrorist time...

This is sadly the only LoL skin she could afford...

If you like Cait AND you like your women in pain/getting squeeze like they're a pineapple in the werewolf fucking press, then it seems this season is going to be for you. But Cait isn't the only one having a bad time, seems like Heimerdinger losing his day job led to some relaxation of his principles:

Now focusing on Ekko, who we know is helping Heimer:

This has a chain to pull a mechanism, and we see some similar thing being pulled by an unknown character, just a much thicker chain.

These shots of the Firelights attacking AMBESSA's people lead me to believe that the story may look like > Councillors listen to Ambessa > The tensions with Zaun escalate > Jinx terrorism instead of resolution > Vi sees this as failure and returns to Zaun to try another way > Ambessa doesn't take no for an answer > everyone teams up against Noxus, bringing Zaun and Piltover together again.

By hair alone we can see a timeskip here. Love Ekko's outfit. Vi's simpler style with just a bit of Piltie chest armour gives me hope that she transitions away from being a Piltie Enforcer and more of a Vander style character, trying to mediate.

Notice how dark her roots are???? I am wondering because LOOK:

She has black hair!! With reddish tips?

SO THIS MEANS THIS IS VI'S NEW LOOK:

And this last shot confirms it! RHEA RIPPLEY makeover!!!!

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLESAEPLEASE BE REAL please don't be an inforcer don't be a cop please be cool please have an arc learn progress return to your people don't be a class traitor I beg I begwaah

My only criticism of this is that we now have 2 options: Either Vi is entering her goth era and is actively dyeing everything sloppily so that bits of Pink remain, or she has always been black haired, and has been dyeing her hair AND eyebrows pink her whole life, even as a child.

I get that it could be a cultural thing parents do, as my friend En suggested. I'd like this, if it weren't for the fact she was in stillwater for YEARS and I don't see them providing pink dye and a nice setup to bleach and dye safely...

Curious to see how it goes.

At this I screamed "Silco????" But not sure now. Seems too far off to be a Jinx vision.

There's also fucky things going on with the Arcane. We're told it's "waking up", which is curious because I was assuming mages across Runeterra were using the Arcane lots for their own magic, so very happy to learn more about it.

Also very cool to see a return of the wizard guy from Jayce's backstory:

Very excited for these depictions of magic :

Free feet included.

I'm pretty amazed that we have seen Zero Mel and Zero Jayce, and just 2-3 frames of hinted Viktor. Nice to see he'll go through with the transformation, but I'm curious as to why they're keeping the jeyvik divorce era so out of promo. Some of my friends feeling very edged right now.

Wondering if this is baby Powder flashbacks, or if we're going to get little kids getting dyed blue in celebration as we see adults do when they team up with her. I suspect if this is a kiddo who wanted to be blue like Jinx, this will be used as a parrallel, with them being caught in an attack that harkens back to the bridge.

The visual effects look insanely gorgeous, and also Jinx's very bad time tm is always on the menu. Very exciting!

[shisasan]

Moving to Japan many years ago and being introduced more meticulously to its culture, history, and philosophy sparked a deep and lasting fascination that took root within me. Through extensive reading, research, observation, and reflection, it offered me valuable insights that, for some reason, blended organically with my own Balkan mentality. Japanese thought is like a quiet, endless ocean - vast and mysterious, yet full of deep truths for those curious to explore its depths. It’s not only that we can learn from it - it’s that we are drawn to it. The soul, restless and searching for meaning, finds itself captivated by its quiet elegance, by wisdom that is not shouted but whispered, like a secret offered in the stillness of the night. Herein lies its true beauty: it doesn’t force itself on you, it invites. It calls the spirit to explore the unknown, to face its own shadows, and in doing so, to find peace.

Here are a few philosophical principles that I find deeply compelling, each reflecting a unique idea or value within the expansive spectrum of Japanese aesthetics, ethics, and spirituality:

In the philosophy of "kensho" (見性), the gradual awakening to one's true self, there is a calm defiance against the rush of modern life. How easily we are deceived into thinking self-worth is built overnight, but Japanese thought insists on a far more patient, sometimes demanding journey - a slow, deliberate peeling away of the surface until only the real essence of the self remains. This is not comfort, but truth, and the search for truth is never without a bit of struggle. Yet in this struggle, in this slow awakening, there is beauty - one that cannot be grasped by those who seek only the fleeting joys of instant satisfaction.

Much like "bushidō" (武士道), the way of the warrior, this journey demands honor, integrity, and the kind of inner strength that does not waver, no matter how treacherous the path, a kind of inner strength that stands resolute in all circumstances. Bushidō embodies Gi (rectitude), Yū (courage), Jin (benevolence), Rei (respect), Makoto (honesty), Meiyo (honor), Chūgi (loyalty), and Jisei (self-control). It is not simply enduring hardship - it is about living with powerful intention, where loyalty, integrity, and courage form the foundation of a purposeful life. This spirit of Bushidō isn't about suffering but about a fierce dedication to living with honor and resilience, and within that struggle, one’s character is shaped. There is no arrogance in true confidence, only a hard-won resilience, the kind that grows in the cracks like a delicate flower breaking through stone.

Then comes "shibumi" (渋み) - that quiet, understated elegance that goes almost unnoticed, simplicity hiding a depth of complexity. True self-esteem, true understanding, doesn’t need to shout. It exists in the way a person holds themselves, moves through the world with calm, steady presence that speaks volumes without saying a word. This is confidence born not from pride but from humility, from understanding one’s place in the larger order of things, and finding peace in that awareness.

The beauty of "wabi-sabi" (侘寂) lies in its celebration of imperfection. It rejects the idea of flawless perfection and instead finds beauty in the cracks of imperfection and flaws. There is something both bittersweet and freeing in this acceptance - that we are all, in some way, broken, and it is through those very fractures that we find our true beauty. It’s a perspective that would resonate deeply with Dostoyevsky, who found humanity in the brokenness of his characters.

Perhaps the greatest gift of Japanese philosophy is the concept of "yūgen" (幽玄), that deep, elusive beauty lying just beyond reach, in the shadows and the unseen. Life is not meant to be fully understood, and some things are better left as mysteries. This unknowable depth gives life its meaning, its richness. The surface may seem dark, but beneath lies an entire world for those willing to look deeper, to feel with their soul, rather than just see with their eyes.

Finally, there is "fudōshin" (不動心) - the unshakable mind. To be calm, to be still, in the face of the storm - that is where true strength lies. It lies not in the victory and worldly achievements, triumph or success, but in the calm, steady enduring of life’s storms. This is the magnetic presence that draws others in, not through force or charm, but through the quiet power of someone who has faced the abyss and emerged, not untouched, but unbroken.

In Japanese philosophy, I’ve found a mirror to the human condition - beautiful, tragic, profound, and endlessly deep. It teaches us that self-esteem, like life, is not something to be attained in a moment, but something to be continuously sought, patiently, through humility and acceptance. There is no end to this journey, and in that endlessness lies its greatest beauty.

[lxmelle]

Gojo was once described by Gege as a “man of resignation”.

It is a facet of enlightenment - in which the concept of “non-attachment” is a big part of (attachment is viewed as the root of suffering).

We can interpret “resignation” in so many ways, as it explains so much about his immense capacity for love / acceptance, but also his tendency to... simply resign himself to an outcome / fate I guess - a form of passivity that can be either considered positive or negative, perhaps depending on outcome.

Going with the flow, neither chasing nor halting anything in particular with his immense might and potential. He swayed things to gently influence an outcome. Followed a designated path trying to rebuild the sorcerer world through being a teacher... which he couldn’t fully commit too either, because he had a role as a special grade who had to keep working.

That’s not to say he didn’t achieve anything - because of course he did. But nothing revolutionary. He said so himself to Geto: he didn’t see a point in it. There were just some things he didn’t think would change - someone else would replace the higher-ups.

And thus. Despite his massive strength, he never did ever manage to go all out. Perhaps this is symbolic of an inherently gentle/accepting nature? But there was indeed a monster inside him too - the one that thrived on the thrill of killing and defeating. It was a beast he seldom let out. It was a beast with a thirst.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll paraphrase: like a sprinter limited to go at 8kmph, like a singer who is only allowed to whisper her song, a painter unable to use any paints for their desired masterpiece - how dreadfully, painfully unfulfilling.

So of course it was FUN to have this final brawl with Sukuna - to give it his very best, especially when he also didn’t feel lonely anymore with a bunch of monsters he can pass the gauntlet (his body and his will) onto in the worst case scenario.

But of course Gojo doesn’t have the ability to predict the future, so how can anyone expect that he make decisions and judgements perfectly or accurately? All he can do is consider based on his own judgement. Alone. As the only other person who help him plug those holes in his judgement, Geto, had left him.

It is up to interpretation whether Geto was left behind first, but this really isn’t a competition or about assigning blame… because where do we even start?

One cannot hold Gojo totally accountable for things that happen around him or how others interpret his actions. He was born different to everyone else. Probably treated as if he had this role to fill where people had an idea of what they wanted or needed him to be, but never gave much thought over what it would feel like for him.

Gojo, Shoko, and those left behind have had to suffer the same resignation. After all: What else are you supposed to do but resign yourself, in the face of a reality where even to things you don’t wish to happen, have to happen? All you can do is what you can... and if you can, you wield it with all your might.

Geto tried it to the best of his ability.

He wasn’t Gojo, who could do it if he wanted to.

Understanding that Gojo wasn’t, and accepting that he (Geto) shouldn’t change that about him (Gojo), as he was likely more suited to be at the school - essentially following nanami’s words and “leaving it to him” as Gojo was in his element / thrived on it, but Geto couldn’t be complicit in the system that would lead them to watch their own kind die one by one — Geto left to follow his ideals.

Gojo was referred to as the only one who can take that curse into his own hands. I used to see it as “the only one to kill Geto” after he failed and almost lost his humanity for the sake of power (killing Yuta would go against his principles) but now it also has a new meaning: the only one who can take charge and pursue the ideals to actually change the world.

The curse is the sh*t that is in the world of sorcery in jjk. Gojo seemed to (imho) now feel the need to catch up and hold the reins this time.

It is the end of Resignation Man Gojo Satoru. The emergence of The Monster Gojo Satoru (who Geto assisted in helping Gojo keep at bay through being the “model of humanity” that Gojo could follow) who was then fully ready to take the stand. Like Geto on that stage.

Bye higher ups.

Before, despite his immense strength, he didn’t force his way through. Perhaps this was the outcome of having been forced to be born and live with no choice but to be the six eyes + limitless. You do not actually have freedom.

Unless, you’re willing to become a pariah. To wield these cards that were dealt to you and completely become the extraordinary.

And now, Yuta embraces the same resigned acceptance of becoming a monster. After all... only a few will be able and willing to turn into a Monster.

Out of love. A Monstrous love indeed.

Geto had monstrous motherhood in him. I guess this extends to others now too. To cast away humanity because nobody else will. Nobody else can. So they have to wield it. Become it.

Yuta represents both the old and new world... in some way, he is like Gojo and Geto combined... power / strength + sincerity / kindness. Of course, like the yin and yang, each half has a bit of the other in it - so Gojo and Geto had a combination of power and compassion, but they symbolically represent each,

Arguably, had Geto someone else by his side, things may have been different.

All of this mess… ugh.

It didn’t have to come to this, right? Nor did it have to be the extermination of humans, but it could’ve been a collaboration of the special grades (Yuki, Gojo, Geto) all trying to solve the 3 different factors to the problem: humans as the origin of curses (research), the old-fashioned higher ups + clans, and the elimination of the curses. There may be others, but you get my gist.

But alas, this is the jjk world.

Just some thoughts, I’ll end it here before it’s more word vom.

[damnfandomproblems]

In response to Fandom Problem #6253:

"Not when somebody says something negative about a problematic piece of media you like"

Purity culture is, in fact, also about this. Fear over people's moral "purity" of thought leads to a severe restriction of freedom of speech and castigation of people that break those boundaries. It's the reason Henry Miller and D.H. Lawrence were banned for decades. It's the reason Republicans are trying to get the most innocuous boy love Mangas banned from schools and purging queer books from school libraries.

It's the reason fundamental Christians burned HP books in the late 90s and early 00s, and eschew even Disney movies for mention of magic today. It's the reason for the Satanic Panic and the idiotic fear around D&D and heavy metal music causing Devil worship and video games causing violence, all of which has been long since disproved. It's the reason there were groups of panicked mothers nation wide protesting the band KISS and why Fox News lost their minds over 2 seconds of blue alien side boob in Mass Effect.

It's the reason that every single public fanfiction archive before Ao3 got purged of anything queer whether it was adult content or just two teens confessing their feelings. The reason even heterosexual erotica, the most popular published genre, got banned or purged. It's the reason for the Tumblr and DeviantArt porn and erotica art ban. It's the reason Ao3 has a team of lawyers and has faced multiple online attacks over the last few years.

The same reason people in less tolerant countries are legitimately terrified of their fiction preferences being found out. It's the same bloody reason Salman Rushdie has a 3 million pound price on his head and lost an eye only 2 years ago to an assassination attempt.

Noticing a pattern of extremism that has its roots in religious "purity" culture managing to trickle into even the most insular of fandom communities isn't a misuse of the term purity culture. It's a complete understanding of its give an inch, and it'll take a mile mentality. Most "proshippers" if not all, are simply advocates for freedom in expression in fiction, usually because its a reflection of the health of a community and a nation's/culture's embrace of the principles of freedom of speech. When we notice an uptick in witch hunts over, of all things, fiction of more fiction, we aren't fear mongering to call it out, we're acting as canaries in a coal mine against something that we've seen invade our spaces over and over and over again and are trying to stop it.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[stillnaomi]

World War III and the Fall of Imperialism

A speech by Booker Ngesa Omole, The National Vice Chairperson of the Communist Party of Kenya

As we gather here at the 7th International Conference of the World Anti-Imperialist Platform, we stand at a critical juncture in our shared struggle against the scourge of imperialism. Today, I want to discuss a stark reality that looms over our world: the inevitability of World War III, driven by the unrelenting aggression of imperialist powers. This war is not a distant possibility but a present danger, rooted in the insatiable greed of monopoly capital.

Imperialism, in its various manifestations, poses an existential threat to the sovereignty of African nations. Initiatives such as AFRICOM serve as instruments of this imperialist agenda, undermining our autonomy and reducing our countries to mere pawns in the geopolitical chess game orchestrated by Western powers. These military strategies are designed not to protect our people but to secure the interests of the imperialist elite.

In Kenya alone, we host three foreign military bases, a glaring testament to the erosion of our sovereignty. These bases are not just symbols of military presence; they represent a direct violation of our independence and dignity. They subjugate our military and intelligence agencies to the whims of U.S. imperialism, turning our institutions into extensions of foreign powers. This scenario is replicated across the continent, where foreign military presence is a common thread in the tapestry of imperialist domination.

The spectre of World War III is already haunting us, as conflicts rage on multiple fronts. In West Asia, the struggle against Zionist aggression is an anti-imperialist, antifascist war. In Eastern Europe, we witness the brutal realities of NATO-backed conflict in Ukraine. And in East Asia, tensions simmer around Taiwan and the Korean Peninsula, echoing the same imperialist ambitions.

Lenin, in his classic work “Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism,” eloquently articulated the dynamics of imperialism and its inevitable contradictions. He described how imperialism seeks to escape internal crises through external wars. Today, we observe this in the provocations and military exercises conducted by the United States and its allies, which serve not just as a show of force but as desperate attempts to maintain their declining hegemony.

Yet, amidst this chaos, the anti-imperialist camp is rising, united in its struggle against oppression. Comrades in Russia, China, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Iran, and various resistance movements across the Global South are not seeking war; they are prepared for a just struggle against imperialist aggression. The unity and operational strength of the anti-imperialist front underscore a powerful truth: we are not alone in this fight.

The reliance of imperialism on proxy wars and economic sanctions reveals its strategic limitations. The imperialist powers fear direct confrontation, knowing the consequences of nuclear escalation. This hesitation will be their downfall. While they aim to exhaust nations like Russia, China, and Iran, we can turn their war of attrition into decisive victories across multiple theatres of conflict. These victories will not only weaken imperialism militarily but will also trigger a political and economic collapse. The fragmentation of NATO, the decline of the U.S. dollar’s hegemony, and the emergence of BRICS and other alternative institutions signal the end of the US imperialist order.

The eventual defeat of US imperialism will pave the way for a new global order defined by national liberation revolutions and the defeat of all neo-colonial projects across Africa, Asia, and Latin America. This new order will also see the inevitable resurgence of socialist revolutions and the establishment of people’s democracies. Additionally, there will be a true commitment to peace, independence, and self-determination as guiding principles for global governance.

As we face the challenges of our time, let us reaffirm our commitment to the struggle against imperialism. The victory belongs to the people. The end of imperialism will not only reshape global politics but empower nations to pursue socialism, democracy, and peaceful coexistence.

In conclusion, as we confront the spectre of World War III, let us remember that this is a final confrontation between the forces of imperialism and those of anti-imperialist resistance. Together, we shall emerge victorious, heralding a new era of hope, freedom, and progress for all.

Death to Imperialism!

Long live International Socialism!

[casscainmainly]

Have you read the recent chapter of boy wonder? I feel like it ties nicely with what you were talking about recently like robin, the mantles relationship with poc and batman

Adding your second ask here: "And also robin as being able to be a symbol for the collective and community. Sorry for being so scatter brained I sent the other ask without completing my thoughts😭 I was really interested in how you'll react to the recent chapter and hearing your thoughts on it. I'm not really good at analysis but reading yours are always fun"

I'm really happy you sent this ask because I've been meaning to read The Boy Wonder for ages and I never got around to it, so this was the push I needed!

You're spot on that so much of issue #5 connects to what I was discussing in my Duke Thomas and the Robin Mantle post. In fact, Damian giving the R symbol to the would-be robber directly parallels Duke giving the symbol to Daryl:

The Boy Wonder #5 / Batman (2011) #45

In both, they view Robin as a connection to their families and to the wider Gotham community, as the grounds for both individual and societal change. And honestly this makes sense, given that Damian is the predecessor, both chronologically and spiritually, to Duke's Robin.

Damian as a character of color is fraught with difficulty. The set-up of his story invites a dichotomy between the evil, Asian, brown-skinned Talia and Ra's, and the kind and caring White Wayne family. Morrison's demonisation of Talia is symptomatic of this issue. This is something The Boy Wonder mentions, too; Ra's is aggrieved not only at Damian betraying him, but at Damian siding with a rich White man, the opposite of every ideal he was raised with.

But in The Boy Wonder and in canon, the dichotomy is not so simple. Boy Wonder has Damian acknowledge both his 'demon' and Bat sides, with the social movement aspect coming from his mother, not from Bruce. It's also important to anti-racist readings of his character, as well as a general understanding of Damian, that he did not need to learn compassion. He already had it - one of his earliest moments in Morrison's run is feeling devastated at failing to save Sasha. People saying Dick taught Damian to feel things are missing the point: Damian already felt things, and what he learned from Dick was how to process and use those feelings.

(It's also important that Damian's first Batman was Dick, the first Robin, and retroactively the first Robin of Colour.)

Damian as a character moves from the restricting, White-centric legacy of the Batman into the freeing, colourful legacy of Robin. Another parallel to Duke and We Are Robin:

The Boy Wonder #5 / We Are Robin #1

Robin has always stood for youth, but this notion of the future starts with Damian (as Bruce's heir) and flourishes in Duke (as one of Gotham's many heirs). They are the future, which means the future is a place of colour.

One thing I liked more in Boy Wonder than We Are Robin is that Damian starts the movement, whereas WAR has... Alfred (this is a bad move for many reasons but this post is too long already). Damian credits the core moral principle - wanting to change the world in a communal way - to Ra's and Talia, which shows that Damian's morals do not come from the Batfam. Once again, the Robin mantle is not only a connection to the Bat, but a connection to the wearer's original/other family, as it was for Dick and Duke.

In all three cases, the other family is a family of colour. This is why I think Dick works better when his Romani heritage is acknowledged; the Dick-Damian-Duke lineage is a nuanced exploration of the ways kids of Colour navigate the White world, in which Robin functions as a celebration of difference and a rebellion against assimilation. It's a progressive journey: Dick is White-passing and has mostly lost touch with his roots, Damian (ideally, when Talia is written right) equally loves both sides of his family, and Duke is unapologetically, unequivocally Black.

Which is why, though I enjoyed Boy Wonder overall, I'm extremely puzzled why Duke wasn't in it. Like, Damian just started We Are Robin!!! Why would you do WAR and not include WAR characters? Merle could've easily been Duke, and the comic would've been richer for it. (Also why is Babs here?? She says like two lines and is not part of the Robin legacy. Steph being Batgirl or Robin would've made more sense).

I can kind of understand Duke's omission (though this comic pulls so much from We Are Robin it feels like it owes Duke a cameo), but Dick's role was strangely small. It seems like Damian didn't start as Dick's Robin here, but that point is so essential to his character that once again I'm puzzled. There is so much more to be done with Dick, especially with the last issue being a meditation on the Robin legacy.

But it was still a fun read, and Damian is so adorable throughout I can't be mad at it. I hope this post makes up for how long it took me to get to this ask!!

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ch. iv

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

anakin opens himself up to the possibility of new love, trust, & honesty

part one | part two | part three

** this part contains soft smut, & implied moments of intimacy **

Falling

He held her for a long time by the mountain, completely lost in listening to the cascade of waterfalls from behind them... 

The water lightly crashing as he kissed her - a bit more patiently, taking his time calmly as they slotted their lips together in tandem with the very sound.

Anakin felt as though he could breathe again, after holding onto so much power for so long - so much pent up emotion. It was a sudden release that for some reason, he knew inside that he could handle a bit better now.

He’d been there before with Padme, going against all of his past values and principles in order just to give in to the deeply rooted love that he felt.

How could that ever be so wrong? To want a real connection with someone; to build a life together based on a foundation of trust.

I could be myself with her.

He could sense her worry in the closing space between them. Maybe she knew something intuitively based on him. The palms of her hands were still slightly shaken from the nervousness of it all - finding him there, hoping that he’d just see her and wouldn’t be upset about the simple act of looking for him…

But he wasn’t. He never was. If only she knew that he’d truly seen her all along. 

And that’s all they both ever really wanted - despite all of his hiding, Anakin just wanted someone to truly know him for the person that he was. Not for all of the bad things he’s done.

she would understand.

If I could just…

let go…

For a moment, she pulls apart from him, eyes full of curiosity, comfort, and care. Brushing the side of his face when his sight falls downward. His shoulders tense. Her hands, doing terribly at relaxing them. 

“If this is all too much we don’t have to…” she begins, taking a step back from everything, just in case he might have been having second thoughts.

“I like…kissing you.” He whispers, before moving closer again. Tracing her cheek almost delicately, which by now had been new for him. 

His touch moves around her face, then finding the back of her ear - settling with resting his palm at the back of her neck all so that he can show her that all of this was more than alright with him.

That, more importantly, she didn’t need to be afraid. 

Not of him.

And her response?

A beautiful smile against the safe haven of his mouth, as if to let him know that he didn’t need to be afraid of anyone either. 

Her head tilts into taking their kiss further, all while their hips follow the others’ into pressing. Everything feels so new, and wonderful. Like the world around them is empty - spinning. Dancing. 

And so, Anakin can’t help himself when he brings both hands up into cradling her jaw - only able to feel her skin with one of them, while the other transmits tiny sparks all throughout his nervous system. A strange, technological receptor that at times he forgets he has, and doesn’t even recognize so much.

But she can feel him there, that certain chill of metal that she seems to know so well now. He can tell she likes it from the way her feet stumble lovingly toward him, almost falling into his chest where he keeps her safest there. Her lovely features pebbling through the veil of clothes, where, in her affectionate imagination, she wishes for his to be gone also. 

Can he read her thoughts? Or, pick up on every mesmerizing emotion?

Their hands entangle, then untangle again - criss crossing before a more wild unwinding happens. He fumbles with his robes before they begin to slip away from his frame; falling - just like they both have, from their special place within the clouds.

There’s an overwhelming sense of courage held in the space between them - a second when Anakin takes a deep breath, as if expecting her not to want him like this, battle scars and all. The ones seen all across his skin, and beneath it. 

But doesn’t he realize that she’s already accepted him? 

In her heart; in her waiting arms?

“You’re so handsome…” she whispers, not realizing that she’s said the words aloud.

It makes him smile softly, when her hands begin her own kind of silent exploration. Enjoying the way his strong shoulders curve; how his breath hitches when the flat of her palms slide across his chest. Feeling as the air within her also starts to catch when he tugs on her clothings’ hems.

So, he takes it as a sign of stopping for a moment. To make sure that she wants this just as much as he does. That when she gives him a wordless nod of yes, even mouthing the word please to him, there’s nothing left to question now. 

Everything slips away, one thing at a time, left in a scattered trail along the river banks. Blades of grass, carrying the wind on either side of them; showing them the way towards tranquility and solace. A quiet place where there is sure to be no disturbances, and they could just be themselves.

“This is better…” he tells her, eyes lidded with a gentle anticipation. Finding peace in the moments where they both are and how they’ve ended up here together. Her thighs settling into a loving embrace on top of him; his kiss becoming more pressing and eager than before. Strong hands, palming adoringly all over her flesh, tweaking the sensitive parts that bud & pebble so beautifully into his mouth.

With a breathy moan, her hips roll against him where they have joined; wanting him - sensing what she’s done to him in the tightened space between, before leaning down to kiss him more. Fingertips, threading themselves throughout all the unruly waves of his hair. His eyes, staring up at her in welcome shades of blue, before getting more comfortable; slotting their limbs together again, and letting themselves go…

He clings to the back of her neck with one hand, while the cool feel of another grasps at her thighs, moving with her in a perfect rhythm that satisfies a certain need for both of them. A feeling that they are unable to fully express.

Is it a kind of loneliness that goes away eventually with healing and time…

Or a foundation of trust that happens suddenly, through touch, and the protection of ones’ hands?

It is almost as if they had wished for this; for the universe to put them in each others’ paths.

And now that they are both here, kissing one another in time with things more heavy and impassioned, they can't even begin to imagine things happening in real time.

That the only possible way this could have ever been, was if it had all happened inside a dream…

Her eyes, never once leaving his when her peak has been so amazingly reached, where all they can do now is rest - foreheads touching, and silhouettes glowing within a golden hour of light…

…

If Anakin could blame anything for his impromptu napping, it most definitely would have been the flowing sound of a nearby creek, or even the warmth of a passing Summer wind…

Yet, this time, there’d only been one reason for allowing himself to tire out and rest. 

It had been the loving presence of her head relaxing calmly on his chest, curling into his side where a protective arm of his wraps itself around her. 

He noticed how in between measured breaths, her body would jump lightly out of her sleep, or how her hands would wind themselves into small fists without even knowing. At that point, he would watch her, rubbing her back soothingly, before unwinding her hands out of their own kind of silent fighting.

There was more to her than he ever realized, finding himself wondering what she could possibly be dealing with all on her own inside her mind. That, he wasn’t alone in his emotions - that if he wanted now, he could most likely be honest with her if he absolutely had to.

I can’t lie to her…

I don’t want to.

Cradling her closer to him, she begins to stir, smiling against his bare skin; eyes gently opening where she’s found herself happy just to have woken up to him. 

“Hi…” she says, almost faintly, waiting for him to kiss her. 

And he does - the first, pressed to her forehead, helping her adjust to sitting up again. The next, coming soon after, a softened brush of lips passing over each of their mouths’ corners…

Then, Anakin pulls apart from her, eyes now the slightest bit more serious.

“If this…is what I think this is, us…you, me… then I need to tell you who I really am.”

A moment of pause passes, while she does her best to listen.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her head tilting, looking up at him.

“My name is Anakin.”

there it is…

please,

say something…

“Anakin…” 

She whispers to herself against a hopeful wave of quiet, wondering if her breath will hitch again…

Yet, somehow, this new name is spoken rather easily - she likes it very much now that she's been able to say it … 

And surprisingly, so does he.

… 💐

thanks so much for reading ! 💌 we’ve made it to the final part of this choose your own outcome story - I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I had fun writing ! thank you again for all the love on this mini series. I would love to know what you think. xoxo 

[crownofgildedlilies]

great expectations! - 2, happy birthday!

prev. | current | next | series list | character intros

You've been a regular at Freddie's since it was legal for you to drink, and if you were being honest, a little before then, too.

The bar is nothing special and a little out of your way, but you've made some of your favorite memories there. It's where you and Kuroo finally wore down Tsukki enough so that he would sign the lease with everyone, where you celebrated every birthday and finished project to the fullest extent you deserved.

You'd been sitting at the bar, in the same spot you were currently rooted to, when you found out that you had been chosen as the next captain.

You don't think Kuroo is watching out for you from the booth like he claimed he would while you elbowed your way to the bar, but you don't blame him. He's got Tsukki trapped in a conversation the blond has no interest in, and you know that any distraction on Kuroo's part will mean Tsukki can make his escape.

It's far more packed than you had thought it would be, especially for a place like Freddie's. It's not a place that particularly draws crowds, but there's an exceeding amount of university students filtering in through the doors. You can't help but feel a bubble of immature annoyance that so many others are taking up space at your favorite place.

"I guess I have to do the gentlemanly thing and buy you a drink for your birthday, don't I, pretty?"

Like nails on a chalkboard, the voice of Tooru Oikawa cuts through tranquility of your night out. You're wedged against the counter in an attempt to try and get the overworked and understaffed bartender's attention, and Oikawa is only a few short inches away. He's not touching you, or blocking off your escape into the crowd, and those small details are the only reasons why your fight or flight instincts don't kick in.

You manually choose fight, face twisting into a glare that met his boyish smirk head on. When it was clear he was undeterred, you turned fully towards the bar and kept your shoulder between your body and his chest.

You were really determined to get your drink.

"Lucky that we ran into each other, don't you think?" He tries again, and in your effort to keep from looking at him, your attention snags on a group of girls circled around a high top table. You think you might have a lecture with one of them, but all you really focus on is the way their focus is on the man standing beside you.

"So you're the reason for the crowd, aren't you?" You roll your eyes without looking at him and lean forwards against the counter, hoping that it helps the bartender see you waiting oh so patiently.

"The only ones who knew I was coming here tonight were my friends," He reasons, but you can hear the smugness in his voice, so you don't really believe the way his hands raise slightly in innocence. "I can't help it if the people love me."

"You're insufferable, you know that?" You huff, finally giving up your valiant effort to ignore him for as long as humanly possibly. His grin is wide when you make eye contact, and you swear you see something like a flush high on his cheeks while you glare up at him.

"Iwa's told me that, but I think you two are just mean." He exaggerates a pout, then gestures casually to the bartender for two more of the bottle he has clutched in his hand.

You really do hate Oikawa, because in seconds he's gotten fresh drinks when you've been waiting for nearly ten minutes. Not to mention, the girls that are staring holes into the back of your head.

He tries to press one of the bottles into your hands, but you refuse, drawing the line at actually letting him buy you a drink. It doesn't matter that what he ordered sounds decent; it's principle.

Under no circumstances whatsoever can you let Tooru Oikawa buy you a drink. It's against all known laws of nature.

"Uh, no thanks." Your words might seem polite, but they're dripping with attitude you can't seem to find it in you to care about. You know if Kiyoko had overheard you, she would have called you out for being rude, but unfortunately, you're left alone with public enemy number one.

"C'mon, it's your birthday! Live a little." He's teasing, and if it had come from anyone else but him, you would've already conceded.

"Why don't you give it to one of your fan club members over there? I bet they'd simply die if you bought them a drink." You nod your head in the direction of the girls glaring at you, and to Oikawa's credit, he doesn't even glance their way. You'd be lying if you said it didn't surprise you, what with the reputation he has for being a womanizer.

"I want to buy you a drink. On your birthday." His voice is calm and steady, tone dipped a bit lower than his usual easy lilt. You wish he'd look away from you, but you don't think he's glanced anywhere else but you since the moment he approached, save for ordering the drinks. "I don't really care about anyone else who wants my attention."

You blame the absurdness of his statement on your next actions.

As if put under a spell—some horrid concoction of his overwhelming eye contact, the proximity of his large frame, the sound of his voice, and the drinks you'd already consumed—you pull the bottle from his hand and take a deep, long sip without looking away from him.

Your heart is racing. Why is your heart racing?

"Good fucking night, Oikawa," You murmur, abandoning your post at the bar before he could respond and using the influx of bodies in the space to your advantage. You dive into the crowd to avoid his response, the consequences of your actions, and the unfamiliar buzz humming down to your very fingertips.

You think you might know the cause, but's just too unbelievable. You cram it down internally, which is totally the healthy thing to do.

You take a detour back to the booth to drop the bottle in front of Tsukki before muttering some lame excuse you're not even sure you heard clearly and bolting towards the back of the bar. The line to the bathroom is mercifully short, and soon enough you're standing in front of the mirror and cursing the flush in your face.

You really hate Tooru Oikaw.a

extras!

yn is still plotting tsukki's demise after his "you sound like oikawa comment" but kuroo convinced her to put it on hold so they can all go out. kiyoko is still adamant that it was funny and yn can't stay mad at her

when yn got the notification that oikawa liked her story, she stared at it for like five minutes in shock at his audacity. not once did she consider responding

oikawa obsesses over everything yn posts, but never had been brave enough to message until then. he's too used to people pursuing him

at the bar, oikawa took almost a full hour to talk to yn even though he saw her within thirty seconds of arriving

Hinata and Bokuto always disappear together whenever they go out together. It's a problem. the only reason anyone knew where they went was because kiyoko caught them leaving

taglist: 2/50

@loveyislost @vi0let-writes

[dukeofankh]

Almost everybody has at least a *little* bit of a point.

Yeah. Even them. And being wrong about everything else doesn't actually change that. They might not know how that point should actually be interpreted, they might come to foolish or even actively harmful conclusions from that point. They might radically overstate how prevalent or important the point is. But don't fall into the trap of refusing to acknowledge things that are true just because a bad person says them.

I cannot tell you how many times I've seen someone from a group I belong to dunking on someone from some outgroup, even a very harmful outgroup, and in doing so, denying basically true things that we would absolutely agree with if we were talking about them in private.

I dunno. Maybe it bugs me for neurodivergent reasons. Maybe I'm a pedantic ass.

The other day I got into a massive fight online with a guy in a feminist group because he was squabbling with a bit of a dipshit who pointed out that men are under a lot of pressure to become financially successful, and that's why they do stupid shit like get into crypto.

And like... rather than say "yeah, men are still expected under hegemonic masculinity to be breadwinners, despite the advances of women into the workforce, the economy being in shambles and the middle class having been whittled to a toothpick at this point. We need to work as feminists to challenge that gendered expectation, and as leftists to rebuild the power of labour to allow everyone, both men and women, to have a living wage that can allow for a family and a dignified life." This other feminist guy decided instead that, since the concept of men being pressured to be economic providers was being used in a way that sounded like it was suggesting that women only want to date rich men, it was redpill propaganda and, therefore, fascist misinformation. He went with, "what are you talking about, Gen X killed the concept of corporate success as marker of personal worth, everyone agrees that being a workaholic is bad and unattractive now. The idea that you think you'll be judged for being poor is a lie spread by the right to radicalize you into hating women." He did not react well when I pointed out that he was just as wrong as the other guy was. More wrong, actually.

And like...you can build multiple arguments from the same data point. Some are well reasoned, some aren't. Someone can feel pressure and assume it's much more widespread than it is, or that it takes a much more extreme form than it really does. But if you're going to coherently argue against an idea, you have to honestly appraise the situation and figure out what grains of truth it has in it. You have to acknowledge that core root of truth and show them how it means something else.

If, instead of doing that, you just deny the true thing because the other person's argument is built on it and you want to stamp it out? Because, hey, they interpreted it wrong, it's not like they really believe something true? You act as though a fact used to support a lie is also a lie. And if you do that, and argue against the facts because their conclusions are stupid, you construct a little world where, in refusing to accept both their flawed argument AND the fact it's based on, you become more wrong than they are. And you make the deeply foolish choice of picking a fight in that world. And if it's on the internet, that little world can become pretty big. Tactically, it's about the dumbest thing you could do. It ensures that they will keep fighting you because...you're fucking obviously wrong? It radicalizes people, because suddenly the only people who will acknowledge the truth on this thing they care about are other terrible people. It makes your side look dogmatic and ignorant. And apart from all of that...it gets things completely backwards.

Your principles are what you want to use to change the world for the better. You believe them because you honestly believe that following your principles improves things, because they are based on a solid grasp of how the world works. Your beliefs follow from what is true. If you flip it so that whether something is true is based on whether it supports your beliefs...that's a bad road to go down.

[vixenmulder]

Confessions

Summary: After a long mission Yord and Y/N tell eachother how they feel.

Warnings: smut- oral male receiving, angst, fluff

Word count: 3100

In the vast and sprawling Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Yord Fandar and Y/N made their way side by side through the dimly lit corridors, the weight of exhaustion heavy upon them after a particularly taxing mission. The air was still, punctuated only by the soft hum of the energy fields and the occasional passing of a fellow Jedi.

As they walked together in an almost companionable silence, their steps the only sound in the quiet corridor, Yord Fandar found his gaze drifting toward Y/N once again. Her face was a mask of exhaustion, but there was still an underlying beauty in her features that he couldn't help but admire. Despite the challenges they'd faced on their recent mission, she had held herself together with an admirable strength and determination.

"You did well today," Yord murmured, his deep voice echoing softly through the silent corridor. "Despite how intense that was."

"Thank you." Y/N replied gently, a sincere smile crossing her face. "I don't know what I would have done without you out there." Y/N seemed to sense his gaze on her and looked up, meeting his eyes for a moment before quickly looking away. A faint blush crept across her cheeks.

Yord felt his heart skip a beat as he saw the blush spread across her cheeks, a flicker of something akin to desire and affection surging through him. He quickly looked away, feigning disinterest, but the heat that had spread through his own face betrayed his true feelings.

There wasn't anything to say. The Jedi Code forbid attachments, yet Yord couldn't deny the growing feelings that had taken root in his heart for his fellow Jedi and best friend.

Yord had struggled with his inner turmoil for quite some time now. He knew that as a Jedi, he was forbidden from forming emotional attachments, yet he couldn't help the love he felt for Y/N deep in his heart. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of the gentle curves of her face, the sparkle in her eyes when she laughed, and the depth of her intelligence. All those feelings welled up in him now, warring with the strict principles of the Jedi Order.

Y/N glanced up at him, sensing something amiss. "Are you alright?"

Yord started, snapped out of his thoughts by her question. He forced a smile, trying to mask the maelstrom of emotions churning within him. "Of course," he said quietly. "Just tired, that's all."

Y/N studied him for a moment, her keen eyes seemingly seeing right through his facade. If that was the case, then it seemed she decided against prying further, as she looked ahead again focusing on walking.

Yord took a deep breath as they approached Y/N's door, trying to quell the conflicting emotions swirling within him. He desperately wanted to say something, to confess the feelings that had been growing inside him for so long, but the Jedi Code loomed large in his mind, a stern reminder of his obligations as a Jedi.

They came to a halt outside Y/N's room, the silence between them thick and charged with tension. Yord stared at the door, not daring to look at her and betray his inner turmoil.

For a brief moment, Yord considered just blurting out everything that he felt, the words bubbling up into his throat and threatening to spill out. But he stopped himself, his sense of duty outweighing his emotions.

"Well, here we are," he said, his voice strained. "Safe and sound." Internally he cringed at how awkward he was being.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, and Yord felt like she could see straight into his soul. He swallowed, his heart racing, his mind screaming at him to say something, anything, but the words froze in his throat.

"Yord," she murmured, her tone soft but voice firm. "There's something on your mind. I can tell. What's bothering you?"

Yord closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for being so obvious. He knew he should deny it, say that everything was fine and bid her goodnight, but instead he found himself confessing the truth.

"It's you," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're on my mind. Always."

Without even thinking, he reached out and took her hand in his, his fingers encircling hers in a gentle grip. The contact sent a shiver of electricity through him.

His touch seemed to surprise her too, her eyes widening slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she looked up at him with a mixture of curiosity and something that looked like hope.

For a moment, Yord hesitated, his mind flooded with conflicting emotions. He wanted to confess, but the words seemed stuck in his throat, blocked by the Jedi Code and his own fears.

But then, Y/N gently squeezed his hand, her eyes meeting his, and she spoke softly. "You don't have to say it," she said. "I already know."

Yord's eyes widened in surprise, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He hadn't expected her to guess his true feelings so easily. For a moment, he was at a loss for words.

"You... you do?" he whispered, his voice quaking slightly.

Y/N smiled slightly, her eyes filled with understanding. She stepped closer to him, their bodies almost touching, and continued speaking.

"It's written all over your face," she replied softly. "Every time you look at me, I can see it in your eyes. I just didn't think you would ever admit it."

Yord felt his cheeks redden at her words, embarrassed that he'd been so transparent. But there was also a small flicker of hope in his heart, a glimmer of possibility.

He swallowed, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand. "And... how do you feel about that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

They were so close together now.

Y/N looked up at him, her expression softening. "I feel the same," she admitted quietly. "I've tried to ignore it, tried to tell myself it was just admiration or friendship, but I can't lie to myself any longer."

She gently pulled their intertwined hands towards her, placing them against her chest. Yord could feel her heart thumping beneath his palm, a rapid beat that mirrored his own.

Yord looked down at their hands, pressed against her chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heart matching the beat in his own chest. A rush of emotions overwhelmed him - relief, joy, and a hint of trepidation.

He met her gaze, his eyes searching hers for reassurance, for confirmation that this was real, and not just a dream. "What do we do now?" he asked tentatively, his voice a little shaky.

The tension between them was almost crackling with energy, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as they stood so close together, their hands still clasped against her chest.

Yord stared into her eyes, his gaze flicking down to her lips for a moment before returning to meet her gaze. Slowly, he reached up his free hand to touch her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin.

Y/N shivered at his touch, her eyes fluttering closed momentarily as she leaned into his hand. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips, a living reminder of the feelings that had been bubbling just below the surface for far too long.

Yord's fingers traced the line of her jaw, moving up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

With a whispered sigh, Y/N's lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was a gentle kiss, filled with a mixture of tenderness and hesitation, but it was enough to send a shiver down Yord's spine. His fingers dug into her back, and he returned the kiss, his lips moving against hers with equal fervor.

The initial tentative kiss quickly evolved into something more passionate, their mouths moving together in perfect harmony. Y/N's fingers tangled in Yord's hair, her nails scraping gently against his scalp.

Yord pulled her closer, his arms encircling her waist as he deepened the kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other's arms. He could faintly hear the beeping of her door code, and suddenly her door opened with a swoosh.

They stumbled through the doorway, still locked in their heated embrace. Y/N's hands slipped beneath Yord's tunic, her fingers mapping the planes of his chest.

He guided her backwards, their bodies moving as one, until her legs bumped against the edge of her bed. Breaking the kiss for a moment, Yord looked down at her, his breath coming in gasps.

Making a decision Yord pushed her gently onto the bed, his body following hers as he climbed over her. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch of her as his lips found hers once more.

Y/N arched her back in response, pressing herself closer to him. Her hands slid beneath his tunic once again, nails scratching lightly against his skin.

Yord's hands dipped under the hem of her tunic, his fingers skimming her bare skin. He could feel the warmth of her body beneath his touch, and it only heightened his desire.

He nipped at her earlobe, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses. Y/N gasped, her hands clenching in the bedsheets. She arched her head back, giving him better access.

He continued his assault on her neck, his lips kissing and biting at her sensitive skin. His hands moved up, tracing the curves of her waist and stomach, mapping out every contour.

Y/N writhed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body was on fire, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. She tugged at his tunic, trying to pull it off.

As their bodies continued to move against each other, Yord suddenly broke their passionate kiss. He pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting hers.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire.

He began to untie the clasp of his robe, letting it fall open and revealing his lean, muscular torso underneath.

Y/N's eyes widened as she saw his bare chest, the smooth, muscular planes of his body on display. Her hands moved of their own accord, tracing the lines of his abdomen and the curves of his pecs.

Yord's breath hitched as her fingers made contact with his skin, his eyes closing briefly at the sensation. He leaned down and captured her mouth in another searing kiss, pressing his body flush against hers.

As they kissed, their bodies moved together in a slow, steady rhythm, their hips grinding against each other. It was a torturous pleasure, the layers of fabric between them adding to the tension that filled the air.

Y/N's hands roamed over his back and shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles as she explored his body. Meanwhile, Yord's own hands continued their quest, moving down to the hem of her tunic.

He broke their kiss just long enough to pull the tunic over her head, tossing it aside. He stared down at her now, her body laid out before him, clad in nothing but her breastband.

“You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. He leaned down and trailed tender kisses from her shoulder to her collarbone, his hands roaming over her bare skin.

He teased the sensitive skin just beneath the edge of the breastband, his fingers moving slowly and gently. Y/N gasped as he touched her, her body arching upwards towards him in response.

Yord's lips moved up to her neck, his tongue swirling against her skin as his fingers continued to dance beneath the breastband. Her breath came in ragged gasps now, her body trembling with anticipation.

As his lips trailed up to her ear, he paused, his breath hot against her skin. "Can I...?" he whispered, his fingers still teasing the edge of her breastband.

Y/N was beyond speech at this point. All she could do was nod, her heart pounding in her chest as she silently urged him to continue.

He slipped it off and over her head and stared down admiring her. Looking at her carefully he leaned down and kissed her breasts, his lips brushing against her nipples.

Yord's kisses were gentle and feather-light, his tongue teasing her sensitive flesh. Y/N gasped, her body writhing beneath his touch, her hips bucking up to meet his.

He could feel the heat between her legs, even through the fabric of their clothing. He felt a rush of adrenaline pump through him.

Yord continued his sensual assault on her breasts, his mouth moving slowly and deliberately, taking his time.

Y/N's fingers dug into his back, her nails scraping his skin as she struggled to contain her pleasure. Her whole body was tingling, a low, throbbing ache growing inside her.

He broke off staring at her mouth parted in awe, at the intensity of the feelings coursing through him. "Are you okay?" she breathed, her eyes wide with concern, the same feelings overwhelming her.

He nodded, his voice catching in his throat.

"More than okay," he replied, his voice thick with desire. "Just..." His eyes darkened as he continued.

"I've never done anything like this before."

"Me neither."

Y/N sat up suddenly, and pushed him gently to lie down. She straddled him and kissed his lips, then sat back up and looked at him.

"I'm sure we can figure it out."

He smiled.

"I think so too."

"Let's take it slow."

Her hand traveled down his chest, down to his groin, where she started stroking his member through his pants. He stared at her with wide eyes, breathing growing heavy.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her voice quiet and her eyes dark with lust. "Yes." He gasped as she increased the pressure, his cock throbbing with need.

She slowly pulled his pants off, freeing his cock.

"Oh, wow." She took his member in her hand, and started stroking it.

Yord closed his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him.

"Is this alright?"

"Y-yes."

He moaned, his body arching up into her touch. She sped up the pace of her strokes, her fingers sliding up and down his shaft.

His hands grasped at the sheets, his body trembling. She looked at him, a smile on her lips. "How does that feel?"

He opened his eyes, his gaze locked onto hers.

"Amazing. You're amazing."

She continued stroking him, enjoying the sounds he was making. She was amazed seeing him like this, so vulnerable and in her control.

He suddenly groaned, his hips lifting up slightly.

"I think..."

"I think I'm…" he gasped out. Her heart was pounding, and staring down at him with wide eyes she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "Let go."

That sent him tumbling over the edge. He cried out, his whole body shuddering as he climaxed. She watched in fascination, her hand still stroking his length, coaxing every last drop of pleasure out of him.

His mind was spinning, his body tingling all over. He felt a wave of relaxation washing over him, the tension melting away. Y/N was still looking at him, her expression unreadable.

"That was... Wow." He sighed contentedly, his eyes closed. Y/N leaned down, her lips grazing his cheek.

"You're amazing," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness.

She crawled over, still in only her trousers and laid down beside him, her head on his chest, enjoying the way his skin felt against hers. They were both breathing heavily, their bodies still tingling with pleasure.

A darker feeling loomed in the back of her head after a few minutes. "We broke the Code," she said, her voice soft.

Yord knew she was right. The Jedi Code forbid attachments and intimate relationships. A pang of guilt shot through his chest.

"Yes," he agreed, his voice just as soft as hers.

The reality of what they just did made guilt churn in his stomach. The Jedi training he'd gone through since childhood drummed into him the rule against attachment. The Code was clear - Jedi were meant to be detached, emotionless. Forming deep attachments was forbidden, seen as a path to the Dark Side.

But as Yord laid there, his heartbeat returning to normal, he couldn't bring himself to feel fully guilty. His heart was in conflict.

"But I don't regret it," he confessed, breaking the silence.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to his body. The feeling of her skin against his was like a soothing balm, calming some of the guilt he felt.

"We'll just have to be careful, keep it secret." He murmured into her hair, his eyes staring at nothing.

The words he spoke sounded alien to his own ears. He had been a Jedi for his entire life, trained to follow the Code, to maintain emotional control, to be detached. Now here he was, throwing all of that away without hesitation. The conflict between his teachings and his feelings for Y/N was tearing at him.

But the thought of losing her, of never holding her again, was more painful than any of the Jedi's rules or his guilt.

He sat up, pulling her with him. He needed to look at her, to see her face, to feel her presence. He cradled her head and looked down at her intensely. His heart thudded in his chest as he took in her wide (E/C) eyes, her flushed cheeks, her messy hair.

"I shouldn't feel this way," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "But I can't help it. You're..." He struggled for words. "You're everything."

Yord took a deep ragged breath, trying to calm himself. He had never felt this way before - so torn, so out of control. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to let this go, to follow the teachings of the Jedi. But looking into her eyes, seeing the same warring emotions there, he knew he couldn't.

"We're both in too deep," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't give you up. I won't."

Without another word, Yord leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands. He brought his lips to hers, every bit of his conflicted emotions poured into the kiss.

His fingers tangled in her hair as their lips moved together, the passion and need between them overwhelming. Despite the risk, the guilt, the conflicting loyalties, they couldn't pull apart.