#I Said Make My Abilities Average!

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[bbokicidal]

A Simple Analysis. | OT8 [SKZ]

Warnings: I'm gonna be straight discussing these men and their pp sizes so if you don't want to read about that then just skip this post, no biggie.

Notes: I'm just theorizing what I think they're like 'n I included some good 'ol references. Please note - these references include pictures/videos of the boys AS WELL AS pictures that are NOT the boys but are references to what I picture in my head when I write smut for them. I also need to thank @skzms because I Lowkey could not find bulge pics/vids on my own and their post really helped me out w that.

Extra Warning: There are twitter links in this post, so you know what that means!! Watch at your own discretion losers, I don't want ppl in my inbox whining that I use refs that 'don't look like them' like obv jfc let me hop on bub quick to ask Chris for a dick pic smh.

Extra extra warning: I like slowly lost the ability to think the more I wrote this because all I was doing was looking at SKZ cock so I mean. forgive me.

Chris

HEA. VY.

Heavy Heavy Heavy !!!! I said what I said !!! And if you want to know why, you can simply look at this video!! If I'm being totally honest here, I don't think he's massive down below but I do think he's a little above average at least. Maybe -- mm... six and a half inches? Pretty sure it's pretty, pink, and always leaking pre because he gets hard so easily.

Also, pretty sure it's relatively thick. I mean, we've seen it a few times before in his pants/shorts, so... definitely enough to make you whimper when he's splitting you open. <3

I'm not even gonna like. explain why I think this bc I'm pretty sure we all know but it's veiny as fuck and you cannot argue w that.

And his favorite thing is when you mention during sex how full you feel just bc of how heavy he is. :]

In conclusion: Pretty pink fat cock that is more than enough to make you feel incredible each time you fuck. <3333

Minho

This man is... packing. p a c k i n g.

Packing like I'm pretty sure it's not like thick thick but it's thick enough and it's probably more on the purple side than the pink side, and it's so fucking long--

Not as heavy as Chan but definitely bigger. Bigger, longer, one pretty blue vein running up the side. Literally so perfect and just the right size for your hands to fit around. Also not too long to the point where it hurts to take it but definitely... big. Seven, at least. At. Least.

And his favorite thing is when you whine about how he's fucking you so good that you might die. Dunno why that comment specifically gets to him, but he makes sure to fuck you a little deeper after that.

In conclusion: pretty cock for a pretty man and so fucking yummy.

Changbin

Okay look people might disagree but I think Binnie's a lil on the smaller side !!

Now look. I'm not saying 'bah this bitch has a small cock' I'm just saying it's not a cervix-kisser like a few of the men on this list. It's just right!! It's the perfect size to be perfectly comfortable when fucking and he knows that 'n he's happy with it. (I'm thinking five, bc five is a comfy size.)

However.

He will ABSOLUTELY split you wide fucking open with how thick he is. This man has the chubbiest, pink, mouth-watering, pussy-dripping, eyes-rolling-back, tears running down your thighs, cock ever !!! He's gotta prep you for so fucking long and there is always soooo much foreplay to you two having sex because he's just so thick that if you don't prep lots it's gonna hurt a lil and Bin really really just wants to take care of you. :(((

And his favorite thing is seeing the way you struggle to take him in your mouth because of how thick he is. :]]]]]

In conclusion: best cock on this list. <3

Hyunjin

Hoh. My God.

Hyunjin,,,, ... Hyunjin's packing a fucking rod of a cock, I can't even lie to you. I'm like 90% sure it's at least eight inches and if it isn't then I'm dead. Y'all thought Minho was big? LAWD have mercy, Hyunjin's got a fucking PIPE on him. A third leg, if you will. Shit slaps his thigh when he walks if he don't wear briefs.

SO. PRETTY. I keep saying all their cocks are pretty BC THEY ARE I JUST KNOW IT but Hyunjin's cock is actually fucking gorgeous like it's the type where even if you're someone who's like "I don't like dick pics" and he sends you one?? you're like "omg y'know what I've had an epiphany"

Not like heavy or thick like the others but soooo long, soooo pretty, soooo mouth watering. The type of cock that has you actually drooling and getting fucked dumb every time he puts it in you.

And his favorite thing is when you do just that ^ and go all quiet n whimpery during sex because your brain is mushy.

In conclusion: Monster cock and no one can convince me otherwise !!

Jisung

Mm, okay. I think it's -- average?? But see I dunno why but I'm picturing a little on the thinner side. (AND NO THAT ISN'T MY SUB JI SUPREMACY MINDSET SPEAKING) but just bc it's a little thinner doesn't mean it's not heavy !!!

And even though it only might be like - five and a half, it's still so cute and so pretty and so fucking tasty!!!

Also like a firm believer that he jerks it at least twice a day, sorry not sorry.

And his favorite thing is when you blow him because you just take it so well and he loves seeing it all disappear down your throat <33 mm mm mmmm !!

In conclusion: Mmmm,,, cutest cock on the list <3

Felix

Y'all keep saying Felix has a little cock just bc you enjoy Twink Felix and look - I too enjoy Twink Felix but I also believe in frat boy Felix supremacy SO -

Big dick Felix in the building !!!

Pretty sure he's above average. Like, 6 or 6 and a half, maybe?? SO pretty, cut, pink, so so cute, so fucking yummy looking.

Easily like, the slickest cock on the list. And if you know what I mean, you know what I mean. if you don't that too bad ig.

The type of cock you wanna like. put in your mouth forever and just never stop giving him head fr.

And his favorite thing is when you jerk him because sometimes he just doesn't have the energy or care but he wants it. Plus your hands look so much better on it than his do. :ccc <333

In conclusion: Pretty, big, hefty cock that fills you up soooo good. Also constantly leaking cum n making a mess but you didn't hear that from me !!!!

Seungmin

Y'all,,, I'm not just saying this because I'm a Seungmin bias but,,,

This man has a fucking. rod. Not like Hyunjin-length rod but rod that's like at least seven inches and I refuse to believe otherwise because have you seen the,,,,

Fucking!!Monster!!Of!!A!!Cock!!!!

Thick! So thick! So heavy! Rivals Chris w how heavy he is !!

And his favorite thing is when you choke on it because raaahhh!!! (im not okay)

In conclusion: 2Min Monster Cock Squad

Jeongin

Holy God y'all.

Think I mentioned it once in a post where I was like, "P sure Jeongin has a big dick because as soon as he hit 21 he had this massive boom in confidence n I'm p sure it's bc his dick grew like 6 inches"

Sooooo,,, pretty sure he's also in the monster cock squad.

Like, at least seven inches, again. So big, so tasty. The type of cock that makes you pray to God it won't rip you apart because I just know he fucks hard, bro.

And his favorite thing is when you actually scream during sex because of how good he makes you feel. <3

In conclusion: Jeongin big dick supremacy, we all know he's packing a fucking log of summer sausage in his boxers.

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

[caffeineandsociety]

"there is no such thing as unskilled labor" doesn't begin and end at people in "menial" jobs doing nifty little tricks for you to gawk at on tiktok fyi

[liketolaugh-writes]

Bruce looking past the fact that (recently adopted) Danny is a powerhouse and recognizing that he has other skills also. <3

Danny is a STEM kid and just as brilliant as his sister, you cannot convince me otherwise

Danny gave Bruce the handwritten list of powers in the morning. Bruce stared at it over his cup of coffee, then gave Danny a flat, somewhat disbelieving look. Danny shrugged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said, perching on one of the stools. “I can point out the ones I don’t use if you just want to work on the ones I do. At least I have an idea of what needs improving with those.” Alfred gave him a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and French toast, and Danny smiled at him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“We’ll have to prioritize your training,” Bruce allowed after a moment, frowning down at the paper. Dick leaned over to look and whistled. “But all of these will be addressed eventually. You should have at least a moderate grasp of every tool at your disposal.” He looked up. “You intended to work in the lab today, correct?”

Danny nodded, playing with a strip of bacon. “I’ll probably spend most of today making a big batch of phaseproof coating,” he said. “Then I can experiment with mixing it with paint and maybe coat some of your spare weapons in it? That should work for the bo staff and escrima sticks, maybe a set of brass knuckles. But I’ll need to make a different solution for the edged weapons.” His mind wandered, thinking of how he could adapt what he knew of the Bats’ gear to work against ghosts.

“Who’re the brass knuckles for?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny. Danny flushed and shrugged.

“Batman,” he said. “You don’t really use a weapon, right?” Bruce grunted. “But phaseproof cloth isn’t something my parents ever really figured out. I can work on it, maybe, but I thought brass knuckles would be an okay compromise for now.”

“Hn.”

“Good thinking,” Dick praised with a smile. “It’ll be easy to add to the utility belt too. Should we ghostproof my main set or a spare?”

“The main, I think, if you’re okay with it,” Danny said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You probably won’t even notice. But the edged weapons should all be spares. Ecto-treated metal tends to glow.”

“Not great for stealth,” Dick nodded. “Whatever you think is best, baby spook. We have the resources.”

“You’re hyper-specialized,” Bruce noted without inflection, sipping from his coffee. Danny winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It was easy to forget that all this was pretty useless outside of Amity Park. Bruce shook his head.

“It’s not a problem. But we’ll need to diversify your skillset. Your talent for chemistry and engineering should expand beyond ectoscience alone.” He studied Danny contemplatively. “Higher education might be beneficial, perhaps a PhD.”

Danny’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m barely passing high school!”

“I had Casper High send over your transcripts,” Bruce said. Danny flinched. “You had a B+ average in middle school, with a particular bent for math and science. You also participated in several advanced extracurriculars, including a junior astronaut program, space camp, and competitive robotics. Further, you clearly have a comprehensive understanding of your parents’ work, which eludes both the Justice League engineers and JL Dark. You had these talents prior to acquiring your powers, and it would be a waste to discard them in favor of your raw combat ability.”

Danny stared at Bruce, open-mouthed and speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered even the possibility that he could have a future outside of his hero career.

“…Do you think I could do that and be a superhero?” he managed after a minute, quieter than he’d meant to.

Bruce nodded sharply. “Most Justice League heroes maintain a career outside of heroics,” he reminded Danny, without even sounding like he thought Danny was an idiot for asking. “Aside from myself, there is also a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist, a museum curator, a forensic scientist, and a fighter pilot.”

Danny had known that on some level, but it had always seemed unreal. Practically a myth. “When am I going back to school?” he asked, hardly able to believe that he was suddenly looking forward to it.

“At the beginning of next semester,” Bruce said. “Your parents’ trial should be completed by then. I assume you don’t want to be announced publicly until that happens.” Danny shook his head fervently. “You may need to complete some make-up classes online, but we can discuss that next week.”

“Thanks,” Danny said sincerely. He was talking about a lot more than his re-enrollment.

[idontcaboose]

Luthor's Cricket

Part 1

Master post

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Lex asked for the nth time.

“Of course it will.” Said the cloaked figure.

Lex wasn't sure why the magic user bothered with the cloak, he had hired him by name after all. 

Gray Warden: 36 years old. Promotes himself as a psychopomp/medium that had pretty good reviews. 

Even from other magic users. Some of his other contacts confirmed that, while not strong in physical/destructive magic, he was an above average medium. His ability to summon spirits and other supernatural beings could be trusted, what he summoned was another story. 

Gray's usual clientele were people grieving loved ones, and the occasional ‘ghost hunter’ looking to ‘prove’ their existence. While not his main job, he did make a pretty penny off of the medium business. It didn't take much for Lex to hire him for a summoning, just a sob story about summoning a spirit to ‘help’ him ‘be better’ and a few thousand dollars. Lex knew most people would expect that would mean to have him act more like the utter buffoon Bruce Wayne, but really, he just wants to be better than Superman. 

Lex waited for Gray to get done drawing a circle on the wood table he had Lex provide and other “Spell components” he said. 

A solid wood table made from oak, ash, or thorne. Preferably oak and/or ash since this is a spirit for healing and new beginnings. When asked about the thorne wood, Gray blushed a bit and asked if he wished to Marry the spirit? Lex stopped asking questions after that. 

The highest quality of chalk available.

Stones of the birth month of Lex himself. When told it was a Sapphire, Gray got excited since that is apparently the perfect stone to summon a helpful spirit with.

And lastly, an object of Lex's choosing to help find the perfect spirit to ‘help’ Lex

Gray assured Lex that the spirit could not affect the world around them other than be heard and seen by those who called upon them. Once all of the preparations were complete Lex was beckoned over.

“So, to complete this ritual you will place your object in the center, with A Drop of your blood. Not two, not three, One. It is not enough to bind, but enough to identify. You will place your hand here, and here” Gray gestures to two symbols on one side of the table. “I will be powering these two symbols, and will call upon a spirit to show itself.

I will be very clear before we start. This is the first time I have done this ritual. I have seen it done twice by my mentor. I do not know exactly what will accept the summoning, but I have placed wards to keep malicious entities from hearing the call. Do you still wish to continue?” Gray asked.

Lex scoffed and placed a baseball sized chunk of Kryptonite on the table. “Let's see who we get.”

Within moments Gray was calling to the otherside, asking for a spirit to answer their call.

“Bro, did you seriously do the equivalent of pspssps'ing a Ghost over with candy?”

There were very few things that could make Lex blue screen. Watching a teenager floating lazily while licking the Kryptonite was one such thing. He had white hair, eyes as green as the rock he was nibbling on, and wearing a black and white suit that reminded Lex of the one the Flash wears.

Gray, apparently, took exception to that. “Excuse me? I don't just call spirits like stray cats!”

“My dude, you were just lacking a windowless van, you did give me free candy after all.” the kid pointed at Gray with the Kryptonite. 

“It's not candy, it's Kryptonite, and we summoned you to help me be better.” Lex stated. 

“Did you seriously summon me to be your Jiminy Cricket? Sure, I got time to waste.” The kid laughed. 

At those words a strange light linked from the kids chest to Lex's chest, glowing gold and toxic green. 

“What the fudg-”

“Lex!”

“Cancel the sum-”

Next

Tags

@dcxdpdabbles for their wonderful prompt/own story Linked Here

[audliminal]

So, the thing about disability, that nobody really likes to talk about, is that it actually is innately tied to cultural context. To be disabled means, on the most basic level, that you are incapable of performing actions that are expected of your 'standard' individual. This is a concept that is extremely easy to understand when you're referring to a wheelchair user or someone who struggles with basic math, but when you get into the weeds with it, you'll find that it quickly becomes very difficult to find the line in the sand.

A person who can't walk at all is obviously disabled, but what about someone who can walk but only for 30 minutes at a time? Or an hour? Or two hours? How long is a standard person capable of walking for? Or what about someone who can do basic math but can't do algebra? Or what if they can do algebra but not geometry? Everybody is going to have a different idea of what the 'standard' person should be capable of.

So, it's really not surprising to find such disagreement about the glasses thing. Sure humans have the potential for 20/20 vision, but if most people don't reach that standard, does it really make sense to expect the standard human to have perfect vision? And if not, where do you draw the line of abled vision vs disabled vision? Undoubtedly, your opinion is going to be influenced by many things, from the percentage of people you know who need glasses, to your own perception of the concept of disability, to your own innate degree of vision, and your personal experience with glasses.

But really in the end, there's an extremely easy answer to this question: if an individual person views their need for glasses as a disability, then it is one, and if they don't, then it's not.

Thanks, Anon!

-submit your poll!-

[keferon]

So the Mech AU is something and it's captured me too.

Set sometime after Prowl discovers Jazz is a pilot but before they go to Earth

———————————————————————

"Do they all look the same?"

Sat in a makeshift chair made from a tarp thrown over a spare tire, Jazz was in the middle of refueling from a small plastic baggie when Prowl broadly gestured to the inanimate body of his mech.

"The mechs? Naw, at least not the ones that last. I've had mine long enough that it's gotten all sorts of unique design changes and upgrades. There's no other mech that looks or moves just like mine."

The reassurance that Jazz's mech form was an individual creation was pleasing for some reason. Perhaps Prowl didn't like the idea of a dozen identical blank visors, the body of his friend replicated and filled with someone else.

"There's like. three or four classes of mech I think?" Jazz continued unaware of Prowl's secret anxiety.

"There's Rescue Class, those are the smallest, and they actually aren't built for fighting but for digging through rubble and cleaning up chunks of alien. Plus, sometimes those tentacle freaks have parasites that drop off when they die so the R-class kill 'em before they can become an invasive species."

"I thought you said they weren't designed for combat?"

Jazz finishes their fuel and shrugs.

"Its a war. Nobody gets out of fighting completely. Before I left I heard they were sticking a medic into- into fuckin' Vortex."

There were, many questions Prowl had concerning that last sentence. How desperate were the humans to be making their caregivers into soldiers? Why was this Vortex so infamous?

Why did Jazz sound angry at first, but by the time he got to saying "Vortex" the name came out as a rush of breath rather than a proper word?

What stopped him from pressing further on the topic was how Jazz seemed to shrink. And sink.

And stare at nothing at all.

It was so nauseatingly not Jazz that Prowl nudged the tire a bit and guided the conversation back to familiar territory.

"So what class are you?" Prowl said, while crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. It was, very off model posture for the Praxian, but without the ability to pick up EM fields, exaggerated body language seemed to be the best way to get through to his human.

On a hunch, Prowl lightly waved his door-wings as well. Jazz smiled at them, and at him and Prowl preened with a modest smile back.

"I happen, to-just-so-be-the-Top-of-my-class-a-thank-you-veeery-much!" Jazz said popping each syllable like a song, resting his chin on his knuckles to match Prowls gaze.

"In terms of mech?" He nodded in its direction.

"I'm Striker Class baby, we're the fastest, the most agile and in my personal opinion the the most effective fighters in the whole program."

"And you do not personally feel as though you are an outlier bringing up the average?"

Mouth agape in mock shock, Jazz placed a hand over his spark- Flesh? Flesh-spark? Prowl deleted the line of thought and focused on the performance.

“I assure you Prowler, there are plenty of other Striker class pilots out there that do good for our name. I mean, there’s Blur for one thing. The guys basically the poster child of the whole program. Ridiculously fast mech. There’s also Hot Rod. His mech had the funny little quirk of CONSTANTLY CATCHING ON FIRE, buuut he turned it from a bug into a feature and now that’s just his thing.”

“Just his thing?!”

“Yup.”

“Being on fire?”

Jazz sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Prowl, “Look. I don’t know the full story and I shouldn’t be the one to tell it either, but trust me when I tell you this guy earned it.”

Leaning back, Prowl processed the new layers of insanity humans would apparently subject themselves to before filing it under “Bizarre conversations with Jazz” in his processor and carrying on.

“So what’s your special quality?”

“Me? I’m freakishly good at syncing up with my mech. Like, Blur is faster, but I’m smoother. Like, like that really is me. It just, I dunno, feels right. Fits me.”

Jazz looked over to his mech for a long time. Frowning at the fuel packet in his hands and solemnly crushing it into a ball.

“In terms of mech?” Jazz looked looked over to Prowl, smile returning with ease.

“I think I might be the only one that’s built for the stars.”

Their conversation continued into the evening like a leisurely dance. Discussing Pool Time, the war, cultural differences , the quintessons, their homes, what remained of them, and all the people they know and once knew.

Prowl never brought up Vortex again, though perhaps he should have.

__________________________________________

"What," Prowl choked out, his voice more static than sound. "Is that?"

The sky was green. The quintessions were in chunks. A mech, matte black with a blank visor, caaaarved into the body of the last living invader. A blade that massive was too big to keep a clean cutting edge, so the mech made up for the lack of delicacy with brute force.

It. It wasn't killing the damn thing. It was vivisecting the aliens spinal column from its body, each rib snapping off with a supersonic POP that shook Ratchets hangar and barely carried over the fucking awful sound of the thing screaming in terror.

Prowl would have never thought a Quintession could be a Victim before that moment.

Spine and brain case finally extracted, the mech lifted its prize to its opening vi- mouth.

That is its mouth. It's head was the size of his entire chassis. Inside, a stranger. Over bright eyes, straining and shaking against restraints within to get a better look at what was being held up to him. The mech moved without any input, tilting its helm back and cracking the skull to fill its open maw with cerebral fluid.

A funnel cloud touched down in the distance.

"That.? Jazz said, leaning against Prowls good side. “Is Vortex.”

TH A T. IS VORTEX

Man……I think Cybertronians would consider themselves big and scary compared to primitive earth life. And then meet Vortex. And then see Vortex in their nightmares for the next five million business years

Previous Next

[weasleysbliss]

𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

pairing: george weasley x gryffindor!reader

summary: when y/n is asked to tutor george weasley, she expects nothing but chaos. but as their study sessions turn into moments of laughter and vulnerability, what starts as an obligation blossoms into an unexpected romance.

word count: 2.7k

➽────────────────❥

You were the top student in your Potions class—well, pretty much in all of your classes. With an average just shy of 100, you managed to outdo your friend and academic rival, Hermione Granger. Sometimes, you couldn't help but wonder how you weren't placed in Ravenclaw.

You were patiently waiting in Professor McGonagall's office, as she'd asked you to be there at 10 a.m. sharp. It was already 10:05, but you didn't mind. After all, she had hundreds—if not thousands—of students to deal with every day. You couldn't imagine being in her position; it must be incredibly stressful.

You saw Professor McGonagall quickly walk into the office. "Sorry, dear, I wasn’t expecting to be late. I had to deal with one of the twins again. Fred and those fireworks he won’t stop setting off... I can’t seem to catch a break," she said, clearly irritated. You chuckled.

Fred, along with his twin George, were infamous for their pranks—especially their fireworks. You weren’t particularly close with the twins, though you knew George from Potions class. You’d never really talked, but you’d heard plenty about their mischief. This definitely wasn’t the first time they’d caused trouble.

"No worries, Professor, I’m in no rush,” you reassured her. “Speaking of Fred, I actually called you in here to ask if you'd be willing to tutor his brother, George. His struggle is with Potions, and I know you’d be a great help, Miss L/N."

Her request caught you off guard for a moment. You had no problem tutoring anyone—especially since you were confident in all of your academic abilities. But George? Would you even withstand a single session without him pulling at least ten stunts on you? Despite not exactly wanting your "client" to be George, you couldn’t let Professor McGonagall down.

"Yes, of course, I'd be delighted to tutor him." Not that you were exactly thrilled. You didn’t have a problem with George, but you could already imagine the chaos his pranks would bring. If he pulled anything on you... well, you’d just have to pray you could withstand it.

Nonetheless, you had high hopes.

"Lovely! You both can start tomorrow at 6 p.m. in the library," she said. "I will let him know about the schedule. You'll be expected to tutor him three times a week. I have no doubt his grades will improve with your help." She gave you a warm smile, clearly pleased that you accepted her request.

You returned her smile and made your way out of her office. Now, all that was left was to wait for your first session tomorrow evening.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next day, 6 p.m. rolled around much faster than you anticipated. You spent most of the day going over your notes and brainstorming effective ways to tutor him.

You found a seat in the library, one that George would be able to see when he walked in. Shortly after you settled in, his tall, lean figure appeared in the doorway. Your eyes met for a moment, exchanging weak but genuine smiles, before he walked over and took a seat beside you.

"Glad you came, Weasley," you said, a hint of sarcasm in your voice, though it wasn't meant badly. "Not like I had much of a choice, y’know. McGonagall practically twisted my arm…" he laughed. "But I have to admit, I was pretty lucky to get you as my tutor. You’re brilliant, Miss L/N—though I probably shouldn’t inflate your ego too much." You chuckled at how formal he sounded when using your last name.

"Yes, well… I'll try my best to make this session quick and effective. I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do outside of this," you said, scrambling through your notes. "Don’t worry about it, I’ve got all the time in the world," he assured, smiling. His comment made your cheeks heat up, but you quickly brushed it off as you laid out the notes.

"Right, let's begin!" you cheerfully said.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Nearly 45 minutes into your session, everything was going smoothly. You’d covered most of the first topic you wanted to go over, and George seemed to be doing well with it so far. However, there was just a little bit left of the lesson to finish.

"Okay, and finally…" you began, but you were cut off when you noticed the cup of ink you had dipped your pen in was gone. "Oh… did I misplace it somewhere?" you said, your voice tinged with confusion.

"Have you seen the cup of ink, George?" you asked, still looking around in a frenzy. "No," he replied simply, his nasty and mischievous smirk making it clear he knew something you didn’t. "George, stop messing around. Give it to me," you said, trying to remain calm. You only had a couple more things to explain, and you were ready to be done. You weren’t having it with his pranks, though you knew they were coming.

The cup of ink came into clear view when George stood up, holding it high above his head. "Reach for it, if you dare," he laughed, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to reach it. "George, cut it out!" you said, clearly annoyed. You didn’t even try to get it; it would be impossible unless he brought it down some inches shorter.

Seeing the irritation on your face, George finally lowered the cup, holding it out in front of you. Just as you reached for it, he quickly pulled his hand away, making your face burn with embarrassment. "George, stop! We’ve been here for an hour already, don’t you want to leave?" you said quietly, trying to keep your frustration in check.

"I dunno, there’s just something hilarious about you when you’re mad," he said, a grin slowly creeping onto his face. He finally placed the cup on the desk, your eyes following his hand. Now, you can get back to finishing the lesson.

Once the session came to an end, you both discussed when you'd meet again—two days from now. "Same time, same place. Don’t be late," you said, your tone firm. "Right atcha," he replied with a playful salute before spinning on his heel and heading out of the library.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next day wasn't one of your tutoring days, but you decided to sit next to George in Potions class. After all, you were tutoring him in the subject, and you figured it’d be a good chance to get to know him better outside of academics.

"Well, well, well," he sang as he saw you take a seat next to him. "Oh, shut up," you said, swatting his arm playfully.

For the entire period, you both got to know each other on a more personal level. Not too personal, but enough to now be considered 'acquaintances'.

George Weasley wasn’t as bad as you’d expected.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Next day, second tutoring session.

You and George met up at the same spot, same time. Library, at 6 p.m.

"Okay, now that you’ve learned what I taught you a few days ago, it’s time to apply it to an actual potion. This is when you’ll actually make one." you said, pointing to the empty glass tubes.

You handed him a piece of paper with a specific potion written on it—the one you’d ordered him to make. He took the paper and got to work. You watched his every move, from the way he added the ingredients to the tube, to the way his hands moved.

Something about his hands intrigued you. They were veiny, slim, and just perfect overall. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a loud explosion-like sound.

Your gaze immediately shifted to the glass tube, where black smoke was billowing out and clouding the air. He must’ve added the wrong ingredient.

"Guess I didn’t quite hit the mark with the studying, did I.." he muttered quietly. Yeah, clearly. The notes you’d given him to study had gone to waste—he’d messed up one of the easiest potions to make.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but despite the mistake, a laugh escaped you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another two days later, another tutoring session awaited you.

This time, you really hoped George’s effort would get you somewhere, rather than wasting both of your time.

"Believe it or not, I actually did some studying this time. Turns out your notes are pretty brilliant—who would’ve thought?" he said as you both stepped into the library. "Wow, Weasley. I’m impressed, but let’s see if it paid off," you replied, smirking at his comment.

You handed him another potion to make, this one more difficult than the last. To your surprise, he actually perfected it. It warmed your heart knowing he’d put in such great effort.

"Told you," he said, showing off his creation like a nine-year-old flaunting a Lego set he’d built.

It was nice seeing him improve, finally succeeding in something he’d struggled with, all with your help.

"Nice one, Georgie!" you cheered, patting him on the shoulder. "Trust me, if you keep this up, you'll be in the high 80s."

"Yeah, I definitely need that. A 52 isn’t exactly something to brag about, is it?" He said, a bit embarrassed, but with a playful tone. He had clearly exposed his grade, a bit more than he intended.

Your hand was still on his shoulder, but neither of you seemed to mind. You didn’t think of letting go. "Don’t let yourself down. We all start somewhere. And you’re getting better—thanks to me," you said, flicking your hair away as you emphasized your contribution. He laughed at your sassy move, clearly amused by your confidence.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another session went by, then another, and many more after that.

You were seeing George every day—whether it was sitting with him in Potions class, during your occasional tutoring sessions, or even grabbing coffee and lunch together now and then. Though those outings weren’t exactly romantic, they still felt special in their own way.

He'd made immense progress, and it was clear when he told you he was averaging an 85 in the class.

Just like that, in two months, he’d gone from a 52 to an 85. Needless to say, you were proud—of both yourself and George. You felt accomplished, knowing you’d successfully helped a student improve their grade, and proud of George for sticking with the sessions and putting in the effort.

Despite his rare pranks and annoying moments, he made the sessions much more fun than they should’ve been.

Rather than being professional and straightforward, the sessions almost always turned into the opposite—filled with laughter, inside jokes, casual flirting, and lessons that took far longer to finish because of it.

You didn’t realize it at first, but those two months spent together had made you develop feelings for him. Not a full-blown crush, but something close. You’d gotten to see the things that made him attractive, and more importantly, a good person.

His lean, masculine figure, his hands, and his noble, humble, and brave personality made you realize he wasn’t all chaos and jokes.

He was exactly your type—almost everything you'd wished for in a guy. His good looks weren’t something he flaunted; instead, he prioritized maintaining a reputation for being generous and courageous.

You admired that about him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

On one particular tutoring session, which was close to being one of your last—since he was already excelling in the class—you both shared a moment you'd never forget.

After your usual laughs at one of his ridiculous jokes, he suddenly shifted the atmosphere, his tone turning serious.

"Y/N, you do realize this is one of our last sessions, yeah?" He asked.

"I know. I’m going to miss moments like these. But hey, it’s not like we won’t still have class together! And I see you every day, stop being dramatic," you replied, playfully shoving him, earning a chuckle in return.

"I know, but I feel like these sessions are what really built our friendship. Honestly, if McGonagall hadn’t set this up, I’m not sure where we’d be." He said.

What he said was completely true, and you’d even considered it yourself. Where would you guys have ended up, in terms of your relationship, if Professor McGonagall hadn’t played matchmaker? It was like a butterfly effect.

"Yeah, I don’t think either of us would’ve spoken to each other," you laughed. In your defense, you wouldn’t have talked to George back then. You’d thought very differently of him.

"You're right. I'm scared of pretty women," he said.

That one simple comment made a thousand, if not a billion, butterflies erupt in your stomach. He always knew exactly what to say to earn a blush from you.

You were too flustered to respond, so instead, you shot him a small, shy smile, afraid you’d say something you would regret.

"I’m glad she paired us together, though," he said, breaking the silence. "Well, I happen to like you—a lot, actually. And somehow, it all snuck up on me so fast." he confessed.

His words sent your heart racing, pounding faster than it ever should. This was one of the rare moments where both of you were completely vulnerable and serious with each other.

"I’m really glad you enjoyed my company, Georgie. Honestly, these sessions meant more to me than just schoolwork." You hesitated for a moment, a small smile on your face. "You make me feel so… at ease. Like I can just be myself. And, well, I didn’t expect to get so attached, but here I am."

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and his eyes widened slightly at your statement. For a moment, panic gripped you.

Oh gosh. What if he didn’t mean it like that? What if he only sees me as a friend? Did I just romantically confess to him? Am I dreaming? Get a grip, Y/N!

"You like me, L/N, don’t you?" he said, not even posing it as a question.

Your cheeks flushed instantly at the sound of your last name on his lips.

You couldn’t outright deny it—that would be a lie. But admitting it felt too direct, too vulnerable.

Standing against one of the library tables, you avoided his gaze, your lips sealed as you struggled to find the right words. Deep down, you knew the truth—you liked him.

He stood from his seat and stepped closer, closing the space between you. His finger lightly grazed your chin, gently tilting your face to meet his eyes.

"There’s only one answer," he murmured. "Let’s not lie now."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you fumbled for a response, finally managing a soft, unsure, "Maybe."

By now, your bodies were so close that his warmth seeped into you, making your breath hitch.

"I thought so," he said, his voice low and almost teasing, his gaze locking with yours.

Your eyes remained locked on his, staring into the rich, chocolatey depths of his gaze.

"Y’know, you’re not exactly subtle about how you feel, Y/N. But lucky for you, I’m happy to help," he said, his voice soft but confident.

Confusion flickered across your face for only a moment before it was replaced by the warmth of his lips pressing against yours. One hand found the small of your back, the other resting gently at your waist. The world seemed to stop as you froze in the moment, every part of you except your lips paralyzed by the intensity.

Your lips moved in sync with his, creating a rhythm that sent heat coursing through your body. Slowly, your hands unfroze, snaking their way around his neck and pulling him closer.

As if the ten seconds of kissing weren’t enough, George seemed in no rush to stop. His hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and setting you on the table behind you.

Now, with nothing to steady but each other, you let yourself melt into him.

His hands slid from your thighs to your hips, his fingertips brushing the fabric of your skirt. Your own hands stayed around his neck, tugging him even closer until there was no space left between you.

The kiss was electric—otherworldly. It wasn’t just passion; it was connection. It felt like bliss, the kind of moment you never wanted to end.

This wasn’t your first kiss, but it was the first one that made you feel completely and utterly alive.

Unbeknownst to either of you, every tutoring session had been its own lesson—a lesson in love.

[apollos-boyfriend]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[lov3darlings]

darlings thoughts, figureskater!reader (18+)

cw: jealous!lando, creampie, multiple orgasms, age gap (6 years), exhibitionism (ig), this is just a more of an expanded version of figureskater!reader. also do watch kamila valieva's bolero because i've referenced her signature spin (at the end of the program) and the start of the program.

lando norris is one hell of a jealous and possessive man. he hates seeing others looking at his beloved like they want to have a piece of her. as if they can, in his humble opinion some should be grateful to be even breathing the same air as his beloved.

he watched you talking to the reporter who was asking mundane questions. the report wasn't the problem, it was one of the mclaren reserve driver who was filling the seat while oscar was injured. he watched with such a gaze that only be described as lustful. the pleasant weather of Netherlands seemed off suddenly.

"hey lovie," lando warapped his arms around your waist, walking into the frame. "oh and we have lando norris here," the reporter laughed before wandering off to bother someone else.

"who?" you questioned. "i know you're jealous, you're gripping me too tight," you said. lando mumbled a quick apology and loosened his grip, moving both of you away from the pit lane. "i can't help it," he said, pressing you against the wall in his garage

"you're too pretty. why are you so pretty huh?" he said while prepping butterfly kisses all over your face as you giggled. "ahh you make me feel like such a bad boyfriend for being jealous. but how can i not be when everyone want my darling?" he squished your cheeks.

"lando norris and a bad boyfriend don't belong in the same sentence," you scrunched your nose. he smriked, feeling proud. if he knew the way to your cunt and your heart then you knew how to stroke his already huge ego and dick. "my smart and pretty girl. you're my favorite."

was the pda too much? in his opinion, it was enough for the cameras and fans to call him a sweet boyfriend. and enough of a signal for the reserve driver to back the fuck off.

he won the race with almost half a minute lead. his teammate was down in 19th, lando lapped him fucking twice.

if there's something that lando doesn't credit you enough for was your flexibility. despite being a professional figure skater, you were more flexible than an average skater. some demonstrations of your flexibility was your ability to do the heart pull move, move your arms to the back and conjoine them and bring it forward over your head. even your signature needle spin was tough to replicate. all in you current program, bolero.

lando groaned into your mouth. one hand on your face and the other roaming all over your body as he pressed you against his driver's room door. he leaned in again, kissing you harder. you could practically taste the washed away residue of champagne in his mouth. he stripped you down, moving your clothes aside.

he shoved his middle and ring finger into your needy cunt. you threw your head back with a moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. his fingers curling all in the right places. your hands reached to pull your darling boyfriend even closer, if possible. you were practically a puddle in the palm of his hands, spasming as he increased his speed.

was there a bed in his driver's room? obviously but where's the fun in fucking you that way. plus that bastard would hear it clearly anywhere lando fucked you because of how loud you were being.

"are you gonna come?" he hummed when your moans got louder making you nod pathetically. lando clearly instructed his team to not let anyone come near the driver's room. not that they had any stuff to do there as they were busy in wrapping up things.

he wanted his temporary team mate to hear it all. he wanted the other guy to know that only lando can make sounds out of you like that. sure, it makes him sound like a jealous bastard but how could he not be when some random guy has the audacity to look at his pretty girl so lustfully.

"oh my god," you gasped, cursing under your breathe as you came on his fingers. "you good princess?" lando asks placing gentle kisses on your face. "yeah," you whispered. "think you got a few more?" he leans down, placing tender kisses over your shoulder. lando starts fingering you again as soon he gets a positive sign from you.

he takes out two more orgasms out of you. "just a few more," he mutters as he goes down on his knees. lando laps up at your juices. he lets you be as loud as you wanted to.

"yeah baby be loud. let that fucker hear," he whispered against your clit. his tongue tracing his name on your cunt. your moans grew louder, louder, and louder. "oh gosh i'm gonna──" your words were cut short as you came all over his face. lando wipes you clean, letting you ride out your high.

he gets up, holding you by his own muscles and strengths. "you think you got a last one?" lando asks. you whine into his hold, too tired from the four orgasms. "please baby" he guides your hand to his clothed, hard cock. "feel this? It's just for you." you'd be cruel to deny your precious boyfriend this. plus you were still hungry for his cock. sure his fingers and tongue was great but nothing compared to his cock. "yeah," you nodded making him smile. "thankyou darling," he kissed your forehead.

you squealed when he lifted your leg and threw it over his shoulder, similar to your signature spin you do on ice. the hand on your waist moving to your inner thigh to hold you up. lando got his cock out of his sweatpants and sank it into your cunt making you both moan simultaneously. "that's it, fuck, that's a good girl," he mumbled into your neck, slowly rocking in you. "I'm going to show you how much I love you."

"don't close your eyes, baby. look at me," he orders when your eyes are about to close. "good girl," he praised when you look into his watercoloured eyes. "please mark me, i want everyone to know i'm yours." your words make him smirk. the older man wasted no time in do as you asked him to do.

lando faced you after he was done leaving hickeys on you collarbones. his fingers tipping your chin up, caressing your jaw and his thumb slowly parts your lips, dipping it into your mouth. "that pretty little mouth of yours," he humms. after it was wet enough, he trails his thumb, drowning in your saliva to your clit and starts toying with it making you moan louder. you felt the ache in your legs, not only because of the how good he was fucking you but also from the position he held you in.

despite being a sweet dom, lando surely was a tease. ghosting his lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase him desperately. when your lips finally met it felt like pure bliss. lando chuckled, fucking you so good that that you were struggling to kiss him back.

your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with his every thrust. "i don’t— i don’t think i can last any longer, fuck, please—" you whimpered. "gonna cum? go ahead, cum all over me baby," he ordered. and you did just that, your cum splattering all over his dick. lando gave in a few thrusts, chasing his high before finishing inside of you.

he lets your leg down. "you did so good for me darling," he says as curled up into you. he rubbed your back, placing soft and tender kisses to your collarbones and face. he lifted your chin to make you look at him. "let's get you all cleaned up?" he hummed before placing small pecks on your lips.

lando quickly washed you up, helping you get dressed into the same clothes he stripped you out of. finally, getting out of his driver's room you still clung to his side. you were too busy talking about what you wanted to eat to notice lando swiftly unlocking his temporary team mates driver's room from the outside. letting the trapped man out. "sounds good honey," he replied when you said you wanted a cheesecake.

[dunmeshistash]

Saw someone describe Mithrun as a "Disabled right wing veteran who is convinced hes just as capable as he was in his prime" and also that he would "complain about immigrants" and I'm very confused.

Where did this type of interpretation for Mithrun came from? There's nothing about him that indicates he's "right wing" or any more racist than the average elf and due to his condition he literally isn't able to care about that.

The sentiment of "Mithrun is a racist grandpa" seems to have gone from an absurdist joke based on him saying a "slur" into a real interpretation of the character??

First of all he's 37 in tallman years he is not a grandpa, I know it was a joke based on him being rough and the fact he's an elf (185 years old) but I'm starting to think some people really think he's grandpa age? He isn't, he's about as old as Senshi and Chilchuck, Senshi is actually older than him being 47 in tallman years if he's a grandpa they are too, it's going from funny way to call him into ableist territory pretty fast.

Second he doesn't have the ability to be actively racist anymore, racism implies a sense of superiority compared to someone else from another race, which all the elves have. (althought he still benefits passively from this racism as an elf even if he doesn't actively feel it) Let's go thru his anime appearance and what happens.

Kabru shows up and tries to speak to the elves and convince them to try his way. The elves think the short lived people are all ignorant and treat them condescendingly, even Tansu because they live more than any other race

Then they go from "Short lived people are too stupid to know anything" into "Oh my god this poor baby come on have some cake :)" which is ALSO condescending, nobody is taking Kabru or the governor seriously because they're short lived. These elves are RACIST they're treating Kabru like he's a confused kid "come eat some cake and let the adults talk"

Mithrun is the only authority figure that wants to listen to Kabru

He is a shell of who he used to be, right now he ONLY cares about defeating the demon, if there is a chance this kid (who has had experience with dungeons before) knows another way to get him what he wants he will listen to it, cause he *doesn't* have the capability of being like the other elves.

This doesn't mean he's anti-racist, it means he literally doesn't care, he lets the other elves mistreat Kabru in every other scene unless it has something to do with defeating the dungeon, cause he *doesn't* care. He's not gonna complain about immigrants cause he doesn't care he's not gonna treat short lived people like kids cause he doesn't care, he cannot care, he lost the ability to care.

Past Mithrun was the one that was both racist classicist and a bitch, but that part of him is basically dead.

He said the slur because they asked him not because he thinks is appropriate, the other elves aren't 'casual racists' and him the 'real racist' they are all just as bad he just doesn't have the "desire to be socially acceptable" I guess, they asked, he answered and that was it.

If it would make it easier try to think about it in terms of real life bigotry and how people keep going "you can't even say (...) because of the woke" they aren't any less racist they just worry about being socially acceptable racists.

Anyway, please don't just repeat what other people say as jokes as if they're true especially when you're saying it about a disabled character. Acting like he's worse than his peers because he doesn't have the capability of being socially aware is ableism, calling him a grandpa because he has had a rough life that made him look disheveled is ableism, saying he's past his prime is also ableist considering he learned how to fight *after* he became disabled.

Correct me if anything I said was wrong but I really got peeved after reading several people misinterpreting Mithrun as some sort of bigoted old man who must be taken to a retirement home as if he just causes trouble for people who care for him.

[clefairysoup]

What yours and Ellie’s apartment would look like and why

All the photos are from Pinterest not mine! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated. I come bearing fluff. No apocalypse and I’m not sure if someone has done this idea, I haven’t seen anything but if someone has please tell me and I will delete this

The kitchen

This is the most average broke uni student kitchen I have ever seen, and it fits you two. Ellie bought magnets that say 'eat pussy all day' and stuck them on the fridge, she told you it’s a reminder for her to come get her other meal. Anyways ellie gives of vibes that the most cooking she can do to her abilities is sticking a nasty ready meal in the microwave. More under cut

dining area

your dining area is the most boring and small place in the apartment, you both simply have no care for it. Its just a table with 2 chairs that sits in the most random spot (your fucked when people come over). Usually you eat in the living room, only ever used when you feel bad for neglecting it, cluttering things on the table of random objects that you forget about or for stealing one of the chairs for something else. ultimately useless.

Bathroom

Simple but still shows sign of use. some cute plants and odd posters and stickers ellie insists of having on the wall. Ellie definitely manages to get water all over the floor when showering, even with the curtain and your like ??? Just me thatlikes those toilet rug things but then its also gross at the same time, because thats where you shit why do you have a rug on it. Ellie has a mug that says, 'Keep calm im a lesbian' on it that holds your tooth brushes.

Bedroom

Ellie’s lazy ass would NEVER make the bed, she just rolls right outta there. Got a whole shelf and drawer to your cds and vinyls, and the many different head phones and players. Shelves of all the comics ellie loves and your things. Cringy ass pillows all over the bed. Ellie also keeps her guitar on the wall.

Living room

Once again ellie removed the ceiling lights from the living because it didn’t match the vibe. You now have over 12 lamps scattered around the room, that you find in little thrift stores. 100% have a mini fridge because you guys can’t be bothered to take 4 steps to the kitchen. 100 pillows and the throws that you try to fold up but somehow just end up pilled in a ball back to how they were. You guys own tons of board games that Ellie keeps from her childhood.

bonus

Ellie owns a freaking plakat beta fish because I said so, and she’s also an autistic nerd (someone had to say it ). She loves her fish called Hester which is an astrology term for star, that she also is nerdy af about

I hope you enjoyed me talking about my wife of 3 years, Reblogs are very appreciated

[n0rtist]

Now that my latest video has been out, I finally got the time to make #AbilityForms for one of my favorite Pokemon to imagine what they would look like if the design reflected their ability.

I'll explain my thoughts here as I imagined that the Pokemon we see in the game and in the dexes are "average" depictions of said species, but any one individual of that species would look slightly different due to their own characteristics. I don't expect these Ability Forms to appear in the games, but I'd love to see it in the anime or other story-centric media.

[reasonsforhope]

Hazel Chandler was at home taking care of her son when she began flipping through a document that detailed how burning fossil fuels would soon jeopardize the planet.

She can’t quite remember who gave her the report — this was in 1969 — but the moment stands out to her vividly: After reading a list of extreme climate events that would materialize in the coming decades, she looked down at the baby she was nursing, filled with dread.

 “‘Oh my God, I’ve got to do something,’” she remembered thinking...

It was one of several such moments throughout Chandler’s life that propelled her into activist spaces — against the Vietnam War, for civil rights and women’s rights, and in support of environmental causes.

She participated in letter-writing campaigns and helped gather others to write to legislators about vital pieces of environmental legislation including the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act, passed in 1970 and 1972, respectively. At the child care center she worked at, she helped plan celebrations around the first Earth Day in 1970. 

Now at 78, after working in child care and health care for most of her life, she’s more engaged than ever. In 2015, she began volunteering with Elder Climate Action, which focuses on activating older people to fight for the environment. She then took a job as a consultant for the Union for Concerned Scientists, a nonprofit science advocacy organization. 

More recently, her activism has revolved around her role as the Arizona field coordinator of Moms Clean Air Force, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group. Chandler helps rally volunteers to take action on climate and environmental justice issues, recruiting residents to testify and meet with lawmakers. 

Pictured: Hazel Chandler tables at Environment Day at Wesley Bolin Plaza in front of the Arizona State Capitol in Phoenix, Arizona, in January 2024.

Her motivation now is the same as it was decades ago. 

“When I look my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren, my children, in the eye, I have to be able to say, ‘I did everything I could to protect you,’” Chandler said. “I have to be able to tell them that I’ve done everything possible within my ability to help move us forward.” 

Chandler is part of a largely unrecognized contingent of the climate movement in the United States: the climate grannies. 

The most prominent example perhaps, is the actor Jane Fonda. The octogenarian grandmother has been arrested during climate protests a number of times and has her own PAC that funds the campaigns of “climate champions” in local and state elections. 

Climate grannies come equipped with decades of activism experience and aim to pressure the government and corporations to curb fossil fuel emissions. As a result they, alongside women of every age group, are turning out in bigger numbers, both at protests and the polls. All of the climate grandmothers The 19th interviewed for this piece noted one unifying theme: concern for their grandchildren’s futures. 

According to research conducted by Dana R. Fisher, director for the Center of Environment, Community and Equity at American University, while the mainstream environmental movement has typically been dominated by men, women make up 61 percent of climate activists today.  The average age of climate activists was 52 with 24 percent being 69 and older...

A similar trend holds true at the ballot box, according to data collected by the Environmental Voter Project, a nonpartisan organization focused on turning out climate voters in elections. 

A report released by the Environmental Voter Project in December that looked at the patterns of registered voters in 18 different states found that after the Gen Z vote, people 65 and older represent the next largest climate voter group, with older women far exceeding older men in their propensity to list climate as their No. 1 reason for voting. The organization defines climate voters as those who are most likely to list climate change, the environment, or clean air and water as their top political priority.

“Grandmothers are now at the vanguard of today’s climate movement,” said Nathaniel Stinnett, founder of the Environmental Voter Project.

“Older people are three times as likely to list climate as a top priority than middle-aged people. On top of that, women in all age groups are more likely to care about climate than men,” he said. “So you put those two things together … and you can safely say that grandma is much more likely to be a climate voter than your middle-aged man.” 

In Arizona, where Chandler lives, older climate voters make up 231,000 registered voters in the state. The presidential election in the crucial swing state was decided by just 11,000 votes, Stinnett noted.

“Older climate voters can really throw their weight around in Arizona if they organize and if they make sure that everybody goes to the polls,” he said. 

Pictured: Hazel Chandler’s recent activism revolves around her role as the Arizona field coordinator of Moms Clean Air Force, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group.

In some cases, their identities as grandmothers have become an organizing force. 

In California, 1000 Grandmothers for Future Generations formed in 2016, after older women from the Bay Area traveled to be in solidarity with Indigenous grandmothers protesting the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline at the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. 

“When they came back, they decided to form an organization that would continue to mobilize women on behalf of the climate justice movement,” said Nancy Hollander, a member of the group. 

1000 Grandmothers — in this case, the term encompasses all older women, not just the literal grandmothers — is rooted at the intersection of social justice and the climate crisis, supporting people of color and Indigenous-led causes in the Bay Area. The organization is divided into various working groups, each with a different focus: elections, bank divestments from fossil fuels, legislative work, nonviolent direct actions, among others...

“There are women in the nonviolent direct action part of the organization who really do feel that elder women — it’s their time to stand up and be counted and to get arrested,” Hollander said. “They consider it a historical responsibility and put themselves out there to protect the more vulnerable.” 

But 1000 Grandmothers credits another grandmother activist, Pennie Opal Plant, for helping train their members in nonviolent direct action and for inspiring them to take the lead of Indigenous women in the fight. 

Plant, 66 — an enrolled member of the Yaqui of Southern California tribe, and of undocumented Choctaw and Cherokee ancestry — has started various organizations over the years, including Idle No More SF Bay, which she co-founded with a group of Indigenous grandmothers in 2013, first in solidarity with a group formed by First Nations women in Canada to defend treaty rights and to protect the environment from exploitation. 

Pictured: Pennie Opal Plant has started various organizations over the years, including Idle No More SF Bay, which she founded in 2013 alongside Indigenous grandmothers.

In 2016, Plant gathered with others in front of Wells Fargo Corporate offices in San Francisco, blocking the road in protest of the Dakota Access Pipeline, when she realized the advantages she had as an older woman in the fight. 

As a police liaison — or a person who aims to defuse tension with law enforcement — she went to speak to an officer who was trying to interrupt the action. When she saw him maneuvering his car over a sidewalk, she stood in front of it, her gray hair flowing. “I opened my arms really wide and was like, are you going to run over a grandmother?”

A new idea was born: The Society of Fearless Grandmothers. Once an in-person training — it now mostly exists online as a Facebook page — it helped teach other grandmothers how to protect the youth at protests. 

For Plant, the role of grandmothers in the fight to protect the planet is about a simple Indigenous principle: ensuring the future for the next seven generations. 

“What we’re seeing is a shift starting with Indigenous women, that is lifting up the good things that mothers have to share, the good things that women that love children can share, that will help bring back balance in the world,” Plant said...

[Kathleen] Sullivan is one of approximately 70,000 people over the age of 60 who’ve joined Third Act, a group specifically formed to engage people 60 and older to mobilize for climate action across the country. 

“This is an act of moral responsibility. It’s an act of care. And It’s an act of reciprocity to the way in which we are cared for by the planet,” Sullivan said. “It’s an act of interconnection to your peers, because there can be great joy and great sense of solidarity with other people around this.”

-via The 19th, January 31, 2024

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Next-to-last of our species

Based on this

“Project Cadmus’ purpose was to create an anti-Justice League of sorts,” Dr. Lilva said calmly, twisting her hair in the hand that wasn’t handcuffed to the table. “But despite Luther’s unimaginable wealth, he was cutting costs in this incredibly delicate operation. He decided that instead of one clone for each Justice League member, we’d do one for two.”

“Why?” It wasn’t like Luthor to cut costs, Batman mused. He flaunted his money as if it’d make people forget he was a supervillain. Maybe he’d spent too much on his last mech suit. He should tell Dick that. “I don’t know. But it worked in our favor. We weren’t really creating clones. We were creating embryos that had your DNA. But, as we all know, you need two sets of DNA to form a full body. So, mixing two of your DNA together would not only give the clones a stable body, but the powers or,” she motioned to him, “intelligence of the parents. Which is how we got here.”

Three scientists from the now destroyed Project Cadmus, Dr. Lilva, Sal, and Trit, had turned themselves in to the Justice League saying they were willing to share everything that had happened during Project Cadmus on the grounds that they be allowed access to job opportunities in their very narrow fields. Dr. Sal, who seemed most against turning themselves in, rolled his eyes. “It would have been fine if—“ “No it wouldn’t!” Dr. Trit glared to him. “It would have!” “No! It’d be fine if we hadn’t combined Martian Manhunter and fucking Batman! We created a Batman that can shapeshift and move things with his mind!”

Dr. Lilva sighed. “Be quiet. Our first stable clone was made of a combination of Superman and Luthors DNA. Where we made a mistake was the creation of 14; the combination of Martian Manhunter and Batman.” Sal scoffed. “He wasn’t a mistake. He was a success. As smart and calculating as Batman, capable of shifting into inanimate objects and people, as well as incredible telepathic and technopathic abilities. The mistake was making him too smart. Too aware.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to prevent it.” He looked around. Superman didn’t look very good. He was pale and sweaty, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Martian Manhunter had a very odd expression on his face, as if he was trying to find every bit of information about ‘14’ that he could. He probably was. Superman met his eyes, and he knew he was questioning how he felt. He was fine.

“13, the combination of Superman and Luthor, didn’t have Luthors intelligence but he did have Superman’s powers. Average intelligence but very emotional, he seemed to feel everything ten times more intensely than others. 14, however…. He was best at learning. Not just science or math….” Lilva shivered. “He watched us, copied us, and it took us far too long to realize, but he was reading our minds. Learning.”

“Unfortunately, it took us longer to fully understand the lengths of his technopathy. We thought it was just light electrokinesis, but—“ she cut herself off with a strangled laugh. “When he started talking about our personal information, things we looked up, things we talked about at home without our Cadmus devices—that’s when we realized he’d attached himself to every. Single. Piece of technology. That we’d interacted with.”

She motioned for Sal to speak. He sighed. “One day, I was staying late to finish some work. 13 was incredibly clingy, and 14 was a charmer, so they got to share a room. One of the walls was made entirely out of nth glass. 13 was asleep, and 14 was watching me. He tapped the internal mic, and asked me why I wasn’t at Lily’s recital. He told me that she was asking ‘Mrs. Millie’ if she’d seen me come in. He told me…. he told me ‘lily pad is very upset.’” Sal looked disturbed. “I had forgotten my daughter, Lily, had a play. She was playing the sugar plum fairy. Mrs. Millie is her teacher, and ‘lily pad’ is a nickname I have for her. And he knew that, despite me never mentioning having a family.”

That was a little disturbing. Not just knowing about his family, that was easy with a little research into the employee, but to know not only the teachers name, the recital, and a nickname, that implied that ‘14’ had been watching Sal for quite a long time. “How does this imply that ‘14’ had ‘attached himself’ to your devices?” Lilva motioned for Trit to speak. She also sighed. “Ok. So. Uhh, during my break I’d, uh, use my home phone to watch Netflix and stuff. And keep in mind Project Cadmus was located almost twenty five miles underground, and the break room was on surface level.”

“Well, one day I was watching The Nun, and when I got back down I had to deal with a ‘strange situation.’” She used air quotes then sighed again, running a hand through her short hair. “13 was crying and 14 was trying to comfort him, telling him it ‘probably wasn’t real’, which made him cry harder. When I asked what was wrong, 14 yelled at me for ‘choosing to not watch Friends this one time.’ 13 interrupted him and asked me if demons were real. I told him I didn’t know, and asked 14 what this was all about.”

She laughed. “He didn’t answer, but it was pretty easy to figure out. I usually watched Friends during my break, but I’d finished it at home. So I’d decided to watch a movie. And before this we’d seen signs of 14 building a mind link between himself and 13. It was obvious that he’d attached himself to my phone, and shared with 13 what I was watching. Unfortunately, it was a horror movie.”

“After that we noticed that the electric doors would unlock and relock at random, usually locking us and the other doctors in and letting 13 and 14 out. Our computers would glitch and turn off when using them, the machines made to test their ability’s would break down right before testing. I’d tried to make sure no one put physical locks on anything because I didn’t want 14 learning how to pick locks.” Trit sighed again and glared at Sal.

“And someone didn’t listen to me.” Sal scoffed and rolled his eyes. Lilva glared at both of them. “How was I supposed to know he’d learn? He didn’t have any lock picking skills or anything to pick locks with!” Lilva gave him a look. “He had his mind.” “So, ‘14’ knows how to pick locks telepathically?” “Not just pick them,” Trit replied, “in less than a day he learned how to unlock and relock them. We learned this when Sal turned off the power to their electrical door and put locks on them.”

Trit and Lilva waited for Sal to speak. He grumbled. “I went in to fix a light that 13 had broken when he was practicing flying, turned around, and both of them were outside the room. I watched as 14 relocked the locks he’d unlocked without touching them.” Sal looked embarrassed. “I was stuck for three hours as they destroyed the lab. I had access to my—“ Lilva raised her hand for him to stop. She was looking at her phone. She was pale.

“Ms. Lilva?” He asked after a moment, “Is something wrong?” She took a deep breath, then tried to give her phone to him. She wasn’t able to. When her arm raised a spark left her phone and she yelped and dropped it, rubbing her hand as it continued to spark. At the same time, the Watchtowers main computer turned on. Batman felt himself and the others tense. The screen was covered in static.

“Stand up!” Lilva told him, her voice shaking. “Flash, stand up and walk fourteen feet backwards from the screen. Do it! Now!” Sal muttered swears. “Why me?” Flash asked, even as he stood. “Because you’re the only one who’ll give us an instant honest reaction on what you see.” That was a good point.

Flash went fourteen feet, turned and jumped. “Holy shit!” He almost choked. “There’s eyes in the screen! Like, a face—oh my god it’s smiling at me.” Bruce quickly stood, as did the others. The scientists stayed seated. Batman walked backwards to Flash, keeping his eyes on the screen. There was nothing. Static, static, static, then—he stood next to Flash and he appeared.

He took a few steps back and forward, testing his eyes. A foot forward he was gone. And a foot back, the same. Only when Batman stood fourteen feet away from the screen did he see his and J’onn’s clone, 14. He was hidden in the static, but at fourteen feet away the static melted together to form a face. It reminded him of when he was a child, stuck at galas and so bored he looked to the marble to find hidden pictures.

The static face was watching them intently. Batman could feel a finger gently poking his mind, trying to enter. He locked his psyche down tightly. 14’s face seemed to become amused. “Interesting…” Martian Manhunter muttered. “He knows who we are. All of us.” Superman stood next to Batman, tense. “What do you mean?” “It means he knows our identities. He knows where your parents live, the code to Batman’s contingency safe, the names of Wonder Woman’s mother and aunts….it seems that the moment the doctors phones got close enough to the computer, he attached himself to it.”

That wasn’t good. The static face seemed to think it was hilarious, laughing. “Who are you?” He asked sternly. It didn’t seem to affect the face. The face disappeared. Bold words appeared. ‘You know who I am,’ they said, ‘you just spent ten minutes talking about us’. So he’d been listening. How quickly was he able to get into the computer? “What do you want?” The words disappeared and were replaced with new ones. ‘Nothing much. Just, oh, I don’t know—the people that tortured and experimented on us dead? That too much to ask?’

So revenge. “What does 13 think of that plan?” He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a low ringing sound coming from the computer. It got louder at his question. ‘His name is Connor. And he shouldn’t have to worry about these things. He had it worse than I did.’ He glanced toward the scientists. They’d only told them of the clones and that there had been experiments—they hadn’t said what type of experiments. “Could you elaborate?”

‘Sure. The people sitting in front of you–if they can even be called people–are sadistic, selfish, narcissistic assholes who not only ‘encouraged’ us to show our powers with physical torture but also sold information they learned in the project to third parties. Like they’re doing right now.’ Suddenly Sal, Trit, and Lilva’s bodies began sparking and smoking. Trit shrieked and removed a wire from her hair and waistline. They sparked and the one from her waist caught on fire. Trit continued to panic as she tried to pull a chip out from under her manicured nails.

Sal removed two chips and a wire from his tie, belt and hair while Lilva removed four wires from her bra, waistline, shoelace and hair band. The one from her hair caught fire before she could pull it out, and a small section of her hair caught fire. Sal helped her pat it out as a distorted laugh came from Lilvas phone on the table.

‘She deserves worse.’ The words on the screen said, ‘Superman. Have you ever been burned before?’ Superman didn’t answer, instead whispering to Wonder Women about how odd it was he didn’t hear the wires and bugs electrical humming. ‘CLARK KENT.’ The words were bigger now, and he felt someone pinching his mind. ‘DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE BURNED? DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU CAN BE BURNED?’

Superman jumped and turned, reading the words. “Uh, no—no, I haven’t. I can’t.” He sounded unsure. Batman didn’t blame him. The static disappeared, and a video played. It looked to be camera footage. It showed a medical room. Sitting on one of the beds was a boy, maybe fifteen, with short curly black hair and blue eyes. His skin was unhealthily pale, and he had bags under his eyes. He was wearing a simple shirt and pants, the shirt having Superman’s symbol on one side and the number 13 on the other.

Out of place in the medical room was a fire pit. There was a fire poker in it, and the flames were lit up green. Doctor Trit came in. “How do you feel?” 13—Connor glanced at her then looked away. “Fine. A little nauseous. Is that normal?” Trit walked to the fire pit, shifting the poker around. “Perfectly. Hold out your hand.” Dread pooled in Batman’s stomach. Connor looked nervous, but did as he was told.

Trit pulled the fire poker out, kryptonite attached to the end. Its end was slightly red and orange, cracks running along it. She turned and placed it in Connor’s open palm.

Connor shrieked and screamed, trying to pull his hand away. Trit held him still. Connor struggled, tears running down his face, begging her to stop, to help, to take it away. Trit made him hold it for twenty seconds before pulling it back. When she did they saw Connor’s hand, the flesh bubbly and red with blood, blisters forming. Connor cried, and the video ended. The static returned, but it was quiet. Almost in respect.

"Jesus christ," Flash muttered, and Batman was a little worried about the way Wonder Women was looking at the scientists. "We were just doing our jobs!" Trit cried weakly, "We didn't want to but we had to!" 'SHUT UP' The text said, and the scientists began to yelp and wither. 'There is a fine line between experimenting on a subject and torturing them.'

'What you did to us stepped several feet over that line. What you did to us spat in the face of workplace ethics and our human rights.' Trit suddenly shrieked, and Sal began convulsing. 'We're never going to forget or forgive what you did to us. He will never feel truly safe, truly happy as long as your alive.' Sal began foming at the mouth, whimpering. Trit was muttering 'make it stop' over and over again, and Lilva was writing something on the table. It looked to be a will.

"He's melting their minds," Martian Manhunter gasped, "That—that is not a metaphor. He's quite literally reducing their brain matter to mush." Flash went to the scientists side and tried to keep Sal still while Green Lanturn began copying what Lilva was writing. Her handwriting was getting worse and worse. Wonder Women went to Trit's side as she began to sob and stutter, attempting to speak. It was all incoherent.

'I don't want to hurt people.' The screen said, 'I don't even enjoy hurting them, no matter how much they hurt me. But this isn't about me, it's about Connor. It's about ensuring Connors safety. It's about making sure Luthor gets a clear cut message; hurt him, and see what happens. Try to hurt us and I'll destroy him and everything he cares about. Fuck around and find out.'

"We can help keep you safe," Batman said as Sals twitching slowed, "Both you and Connor. You don’t have to kill them." Lilva wasn't writing so much as scribling, and Trit was still crying. Her eyes were bloodshot. 'I do, Batman. They installed both of us with a kill switch. Only two ways to trip it; either insert a key into the incubators were were created in, or enter a code on the computer in Luthors office.'

Batman felt his heart drop. 'The key and the incubators have been delt with, the computer and any copy of the software destroyed. Only one person had the code. The lead researcher. And he shared the code with two other people. I have to keep my brother safe, Batman. We're all we have. I'm sorry.'

The room was much more quite now; Trit was dead, Sal was unconscious, and Lilva mumbling incoherently. 'I want to live the rest of my life by your code, Batman, and I'll try my best to do so. But please, please understand that I had to do this. Not just for revenge, but for our safety. Martain Manhunter would’ve never found the code in their minds; he's not as invasive as I am. They would’ve left and immediately killed us. Thats why Sal wanted to get out of their as quick as possible.'

'Maybe one day, when the dust has settled and Conner feels safe we can talk face to face; really talk, y’know? I'd like to do that. But I don't know when the right time for that talk will be.' It was quiet as the rest of the League read the message. The humming was fading. Batman felt his heart jump when his pocket buzzed. It was his phone.

It was a new contacct thats number kept changing. It was named 'Danny'. The text read, 'but in the meantime, I'm down for some small talk.'

[apas-95]

i largely agree with your politics but tbqh the way you present your ideas is not really radical, frankly it's worryingly eschatological/messianic. which sucks cuz otherwise you seen like a pretty rational individual

I don't think 'making claims about the future' is inherently messianic or eschatological, though I understand this is often a sticking point regarding Marxism - if we understand dialectical and historical materialism to be genuine scientific knowledge on human society, which we should, then the ability to predict future events with confidence is simply part and parcel of its existence as scientific knowledge.

The claim 'the tendency of the rate of profit to fall drives capital inevitably, through various ways, into cyclical crises of various scales, with the largest-scale examples consisting of global economic crises and world wars, the approach to which can be recognised and quantified prior' should be seen as no more messianic than 'the release of greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere causes runaway heating which, while increasing the general planetary average temperature, alao leads to localised extreme weather events and rising sea levels, which can be recognised and quantified prior'.

Fundamentally, while a lot of people are willing to accept Marxism as providing *empirical* understanding of human society; that is, as a means to understand and decompose present and historical social issues; it is a lot harder for people to accept Marxism as providing genuinely scientific understanding of human society capable of predictive power. The reasons behind this are, generally, due to the nature of enlightenment philosophy and the bourgeois conception of science, wherein bourgeois social 'sciences' are incomplete, piecemeal, and reflexive (since, as Marxism demonstrates, a geneuine scientific analysis of human society, beginning from the political-economic basis of society, is harmful to bourgeois society).

When I say 'revolution in the imperial core is not going to occur today, but is an essential inevitability in the near future' I am saying, essentially, nothing more than the well-proven principle that 'revolution will occur where the chain of imperialism is weakest'. The condition for revolution in the imperial core is widespread revolution in the periphery states, the condition for widespread revolution in the periphery states is worldwide economic crisis and war, and the condition for worldwide economic crisis and war is the decline of imperial profits and the collapse of imperialist alliances. There is a fairly clear chain of events here, each of which has not only turned out in the past (the first world war being predictable before it ever occured) but is currently turning out in the present (look back even on my own blog towards discussions of inter-imperialist war and note that Marxists had predicted a ground war in Europe by 2025 well prior to the actual commencement of the Russia-NATO proxy war in Ukraine, as well as the inevitability of an economic crash circa 2020).

As proletarians, there is, also, largely nothing that can be done to influence these events without the existence of large proletarian political organs capable of leading the proletariat in conscious political action - the existence of which is contingent on historical circumstances. The imperial core does not have serious proletarian organs with a mass basis, and will not have those organs until conditions exist to facilitate them - said conditions being the collapse of imperialist profits and the worsening of domestic repression in core states. This does not mean that the eventual emergence and victory of those organs will not require constant, arduous work from communists to build up and maintain, to whatevee degree is possible, a communist movement until fhat time arrives - but it means that, for instance: Marx in the 1800s was never going to lead a socialist state, leaving that work to a future Lenin.

Almost assuredly, no existing party in the USA will carry out revolution - but the leaders of the revolutionary movement that will emerge under the pressures of war against Russia, China, the EU imperialist bloc; and of climate crisis and economic collapse; will likely be the ones gaining experience in political work at this time. Marxism speaks of classes, not individuals - it is not, really, messianic to say 'the bourgeoisie will go to war when faced with economic crisis, and the proletariat will resist when faced with war', nor is it, I reason, very eschatological to say 'the world is going to get much, much worse in the near future, however, there is a possible way to escape the horrors of war that does not end in nuclear annihilation'.

However, if it's what you'd prefer, I could call myself God-queen of violent benevolence, and emanate a vision of revolutionary salvation - whichever works.