#I might be able to do them on the stream~

[flipocrite]

I feel like it was in the best interests of America (’s elite) to be deliberately vague about the way our country educated its younger generations about fascism. I went to a magnet high school that did in fact go off-curriculum with a whole year spent analyzing 1984 in English class, but I don’t recall too much of a description of fascism in history class besides “authoritarian”, “censorship/book burning”, and “the bad guys in WWII”. This incomplete education conveys three incomplete ideas:

Authoritarian: fascism is when someone tells me I have to obey rules I don’t like, or that I will face consequences for disregarding them.

Censorship/book-burning: fascism is when people tell me I can’t use hate speech.

The bad guys in WWII: it was a thing of the past, so don’t worry about it.

Now we were smart students, we knew there was more to it. But fascism has a long, shameful, predictable history for which we as a country could have formally prepared, but chose not to. Not, I feel, because it wasn’t important, but because too many powerful people thought “hey, we might want to use some of these authoritarian tools someday, and we won’t be able to do that if people recognized where they came from”.

Maybe things would have been different if the key takeaways had been something like:

Fascism promises good things. It begins as populism, promising a return (i.e. inherently right-wing, reactionary, and not progressive) to economic normalcy/prosperity for the working-class. It promises safety, security, and comfort, like a old friend or�� “older sibling”. It might introduce itself as a nationalist (or a patriot if the audience recognizes the former as a red flag), but it will not introduce itself with a handshake and “Hi, I’m evil and I like hurting people.” Historically, however, it has introduced itself bearing a flag and a catchy slogan, “Make Germany Great Again”.

Fascism preys on emotion and exploits it. It takes not just logical, but emotionally intelligent people to recognize this as it’s happening. It justifies division, violence, and distrust by stoking one’s senses of fear, anger and disgust (the three of which combine to create hate). The first thing fascism tells you is “You are fearful and angry and you need someone to blame”, and the second is “These people are disgusting, let us give them what they deserve”. Everyone believes in human rights until someone is an alleged terrorist or pedophile, after which “I’m so fearful, angry, and disgusted that I will actively disengage the rational part of myself that would otherwise seek to verify these allegations. In fact, I won’t even pause to logically acknowledge the dangers of allowing the state to torture or execute anyone subject to unverifiable accusations”. This is where English classes have a duty to drive home the fact that propaganda works best on self-proclaimed “logical/rational/unemotional thinkers”; they have simply chosen to identify their emotions as logical reasoning (e.g. conflating facts and opinions) and that makes them dangerous. Emotions are like assholes, in that everyone has them, you won’t see your own without some self-reflection, and the people who claim they don’t have one definitely have some kind of serious unexamined problem.

Fascism preys on logical thinking and destroys it. It requires a strict control of information and the narrative, and is an enemy of art, science, and journalism (c.f. lügenpresse). Its most powerful enemy, however, is truth itself, which means all institutions dedicated to credibility must be thoroughly discredited. Without truth, there can be no basis upon which logic can stand. This will manifest of course as book-banning/burning, but more subtly (and perhaps more importantly) as flooding political discourse with conspiracy theories and lies, ranging from a constant stream of small ones to the DISTRACTINGLY BLATANT. These may either be doubled down on, serve as a foot-in-the-door, or be hand-waved/forgotten as “They didn’t really mean that”. It would take dedicated teams of experts operating 24/7 to investigate and debunk such a constant stream of lies… if not for the lies “the experts can’t be trusted” and “Everyone lies anyways so it doesn’t matter”. The most effective propaganda has a clear direction and an unverifiable amount of truth. This includes the legendary “All politicians are corrupt” – i.e. “If no one is trustworthy, a logical choice is impossible… so vote with your emotions or stay home”. When fascism appears on your doorstep, it will be selling logical fallacies, and they will be emotionally justified. So when you turn on MSNBC or FOX, ask yourself even before if it is factually true: “Are they trying to tell me what I should think happened? Or are they trying to tell me how to feel about it?”

There are other signs and symptoms of a sick democracy, of course, such as “Suppression of sexuality and deviation from traditional gender roles” or “Obsession with law and order to the extent of sacrificing all privacy to a surveillance state for the promise of security”. But I am no expert to be cited with scholarly authority. This is mostly wishful thinking on my part, since none of this would be able to happen without America also recognizing the dangers of and taking protections against wealth inequality. In that sense, a nation like this was doomed from the very beginning, like watching the life cycle of a dying star.

Dictators in History:

- Hitler – “The good of the state stands above the law.”

- Mussolini – “Everything within the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state.”

- Napoleon Bonaparte – “I am the revolution.”

- Francisco Franco – “I am responsible only to God and to history.”

Trump:

"He who saves his country does not violate any law"

[cozmowrites]

It'll Pass

The sky was heavy with the threat of rain, clouds swirling in muted gray. It felt fitting, almost poetic, for the storm that churned inside you. The words you’d been holding back for months now weighed heavily on your chest, threatening to choke you if they didn’t come out. Your hands were clammy, clutching the hem of your sweater as you stood just a few feet away from Bakugou Katsuki.

He looked so serene, leaning against the wall of the empty training hall. His crimson eyes, sharp and alert, stared out into the open courtyard. The harshness that usually defined him seemed to soften in the pale light. For a moment, you let yourself believe he could be yours.

“Katsuki,” you finally said, the tremor in your voice betraying your inner turmoil.

He turned his head toward you, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “What?” His tone was casual but tinged with impatience. He’d always been like this—biting his words—but that didn’t make you love him any less.

“I...” The lump in your throat grew as you struggled to form the words. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest, a frantic rhythm that screamed for release. “I need to tell you something.”

“Then spit it out already, I'm waiting.” His arms crossed over his chest, a gesture that was so classically Bakugou. You hated how your heart skipped a beat at how effortlessly cool he looked.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his piercing gaze. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you like a fragile thread, delicate and easily broken. The weight of your confession pressed down on you, and you felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated. For a fleeting moment, his eyes widened in surprise, but the expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He didn’t say anything right away, and the silence was deafening. Your heart sank further with each passing second, dread pooling in your stomach. You had hoped—no, prayed—that he might feel the same. That maybe he’d say the words back or at least give you something to hold onto.

But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, almost detached. “It’ll pass.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you wondered if you had misheard him. “What?” You whispered, barely able to get the word out.

Bakugou sighed, running a hand through his ash-blond hair. “You’ll get over it,” he said, his tone dismissive. “It’s just some stupid crush or whatever. It’s not a big deal. You're probably feeling that dumb way because we've been training a lot lately.”

Your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here, not now. “It’s not a crush,” you said, your voice cracking. “I’ve been in love with you for months. This isn’t just something I’ll ‘get over.’”

He frowned, his expression unreadable. “Look, I’m not good at this shit, okay? I don’t—” He paused, seemingly searching for the right words. “I don’t do love." He said it like it was a disease. "I’ve got too much to focus on to be dealing with.. whatever this is.” He looked disgusted.

Whatever this is. His words cut deeper than you thought possible. You had bared your heart to him, and he had brushed it aside like it was nothing. Like you were nothing.

“I see,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. You took a step back, putting more distance between you. “I guess I was stupid for thinking you might care.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything to contradict you. He just stood there, watching as you crumbled before him. You wanted to scream, to demand why he was so cruel, but you couldn’t find the strength. All you could do was turn and walk away, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The rain finally began to fall as you stepped outside, the cold droplets mixing with the tears streaming down your face. You didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. There was no point. You had given him everything—your heart, your soul—and he had tossed it aside like it was nothing.

You should have known better. Bakugou Katsuki was a force of nature, a hurricane that left destruction in its wake. You had gotten too close, thinking you could weather the storm, but now you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart.

As you disappeared into the rain, Bakugou stayed where he was, staring at the spot where you had just stood. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to call out to you, to take back what he had said, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t know how to handle feelings like this—messy, complicated, and terrifying.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. He knew he’d hurt you, and the realization twisted something deep inside him. But instead of chasing after you, he stayed rooted in place, letting the moment slip through his fingers.

After all, he was Bakugou Katsuki. And he didn’t deserve love.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

[blackboxtheater]

voted for them again!

prompt this time is: cozy!

something simple, thanks!

I do believe the people have spoken, but on the off chance that you follow my blog and haven't voted for Mumpearl in the the Mumbo Jumbo ship bracket, you still can! We can show our presence as a small but mighty rarepair and go down with the ship as we sink beneath the waves lapping at Boatem's shores.

I will still take prompts until voting closes so if you wanted to submit, this might be your last chance 👀

But time for prompts!! Cozy prompts!!

So this could be read as a stand-alone season 10 established relationship tidbit, OR as the season 10 epilogue to House of String that I'm never going to write because I literally already have 21 chapters of content and that's just through season 9. If you've been suffering from all the pining in the recent updates, this is a bit of an antidote to that :)

But either way, the interior of Pearl's base, and in particular her double bed next to a wall of trap doors has HAUNTED me (/pos) since she ran around her base in hide and seek with Gem. Something about the vibe just gave me "sunlight streaming through shutters at sunrise" and now you gave me an excuse to write that!!!

Plus Pearl clearly designed a bedroom and actual living space in her base, while Mumbo just makes a giant storage system as a base and sometimes puts a bed places. So the idea that he still is making his base, but actually sleeps and lives at Pearl's is the premise for this setup.

🌙 🌙 🌙

The sound of the last shulker whirling shut echoes through Pearl's storage room.

There is truly nothing as satisfying as a neatly organized storage room with a set of perfectly prepared shulkers right in the middle, ready to be picked up on the way to a brand new build the next morning. Sure, Pearl likes the update this season where they can add text and images to the boxes. It's helpful and does make it easier to know at a glance what is in each box, but there is something so familiar and soothing about a classic, color-coded row of shulkers prepped for an exciting new build.

Now that she's stopped banging around her storage room opening and closing chests, there's a silence that settles over the space. It's a rare sound on Hermitcraft which is why she loves the peace and quiet that only comes in the dead of night.

She loves the chaos and mischief and joy that the other hermits bring to her life. She does. She loves them all more than she could ever describe. But she also has big plans for her builds each season that require lots of time and effort to not only design, but to construct and refine until they are exactly as perfect as she knows they can be. And it's hard to be productive when her communicator is constantly blowing up with Scar's death messages. Or when a wild Gem can appear out of the sky at any moment. Or when Keralis has some new ideas for the flower and dyes shop or when Ren is looking for an extra person to play Hungry Hermits with or when Grian breaks the mail system again or or or or or.

There is always a distraction looking for her during the daylight hours. It's so easy to have a full, busy, wonderful day where she makes zero progress on any of her projects. Which is why she keeps staying up so late season after season.

Sure she could try to fix her sleep schedule this year now that Mumbo is staying with her full time. He's always yawning by 9:30 and crawling into bed by 10. But she likes being able to get some focus time in when the rest of the hermits are fast asleep. Or at the very least deterred from dropping in unannounced by the ever present threat of mobs lurking in every shadow.

And Mumbo doesn't seem to mind that she drifts down to her study as he drifts up to bed.

Pearl does mind though that her dogs seem to have universally decided that sleeping in a comfy, warm bed is better than keeping her company late into the night. Sure the cats are still awake with her, watching her with their reflective eyes as Pearl makes her way up from the storage room to her and Mumbo's bedroom.  But it's not quite the same as previous seasons when she'd regularly been making design updates late at night with a dog curled up at her feet.

But when she open the door to their bedroom, she does get numerous sets of dark eyes turning to look up at her illuminated in the dull glow streaming in through the crack in the door. Mumbo, as always, is completely passed out, rolled on his side and sleeping right through the sound of her quietly slipping into their bedroom. Her valiant guard dogs, however, silently watch Pearl's nightly routine of she softly padding over to the closet to get changed and ready for bed. And, just like every night, once she is finally ready to climb into bed there is a series of soft thump as her babies jump down to clear her side of the bed and give her room to crawl under the covers.

There's one final round of shuffling and adjusting before the whole Pearl/Mumbo compound is settled for the night. There's the soft click of dog paws against the floor as her puppos find their places curled in corners and at the foot of the bed, the rustle of bedsheets as Pearl tucks herself in behind Mumbo, and finally the quite breath Mumbo lets out each night as Pearl curls around him.

When Pearl mentioned this little routine to him, Mumbo swore up and down that he slept right through her shuffling around and he had no idea when she finally ended up coming to bed each night.

While she initially assumed he was just being cute and polite for her sake, the longer they lived together, the more Pearl was inclined to believe him. He really didn't give any indication of being awake each night as she has moved around their bedroom opening drawers and shutting doors as she got ready for bed. But there is a soft noise that he make every night without fail as Pearl curls up again his back, tucking her face between his shoulder blades and into the soft fabric of his well-worn sleep shirt. Pearl almost likes the idea that he isn’t awake and aware that this happens better. It means that even asleep, there is some part of him that's waiting for her to come into bed. A part that doesn’t fully relax until he feels her warmth beside him. And once she's there, he can finally relax, letting out a soft sigh, barely audible over the rustle of leaves outside. She even thinks sometimes that she can feel the last bit of nervous tension easing out of his shoulders as she nuzzles into him, inhaling the smell of soap and fresh cotton.

It's become a familiar enough scent that even after to most chaotic days it helps calm Pearl's thoughts, helping her drift off to sleep under the warm covers to the sounds of Mumbo's even breathing beside her.

🔆 🔆 🔆

Now that Mumbo has had the pleasure of waking up with the sunrise, he's not sure he could ever go back.

There is no jarring alarm or unexpected buzzing from a communicator to jolt him awake. No sharp, sudden distinction between peaceful sleep and full consciousness. Instead, the sunlight filters through the copper trap doors that make up the walls of his and Pearl's bedroom each morning, slowly bringing him to awareness as the day begins.

The soft sound of the birds outside and the warm light against his eyelids is the first thing he's aware of most mornings now. Which wakes him up just enough so he can shifts around and reach out for the warm body even his subconscious knows is sleeping beside him. But the first tendrils of consciousness aren't satisfied with just knowing Pearl is there in the bed next to him, they want her closer and go seeking her out, gathering her sluggishly into his arms and pulling her into him.

That's one of the few things that can still jolt Mumbo awake now; reaching out and his hazy, half asleep brain not finding Pearl within reach. The first time he reached out to find nothing but a cold pillow and the furry back of an equally confused dog blinking back at him, he had startled awake, fumbling for his communicator with the terrible feeling that something bad had to have happened. If Pearl wasn't in bed, Pearl must be missing and in danger, his barely awake brain had concluded. His worried messages, which his brain had not been conscious enough to remember to whisper rather than put in the general Hermitcraft chat, had been greeted by a sheepish Pearl admitting she may have been so focused on her project that she hadn't notice the birds had started singing to tell her she had worked all the way through to sunrise. The messages had also been fantastic fodder for all of his friends to tease him for the rest of the week, even if most of it was good natured teasing about how cute him and Pearl were together.

But this morning isn't one of those unfortunate rare days he wakes up alone, so when Mumbo rolls over his arm curls around Pearl to pull her into his chest. Sometimes he catches a half mumbled 'good morning' or even a sleepy kiss if she rolls into his chest, but this morning she just wraps her arms around his and snuggles back against him with just the barest bit of fleeting consciousness that he knows will be gone again by the time he's fully awake.

But he's in no rush. These warm, cozy moments curled up together each morning are some of his favorite each day and he's not eager to end them too soon. So he spends a few more minutes letting his consciousness slowly come on line, becoming more aware of the world around him as his brain cells wake up one by one.

First, he starts to hear the leaves rustling outside and can feel their movement shift the pattern of sunlight against his eyes lids. He starts to notice the smell Pearl's shampoo and can feel her leg brush against his as she shifts again in his arms. And finally, he hears the click of nails on the floor as their dogs start to grow impatient in their wait for breakfast.

Which is his cue that his precious morning moments are drawing to a close and it's almost time to get up for the day.

By the time he finally opens his eyes, there is already 3 pairs of black dog eyes staring at him over the edge of the bed. The dogs are smart enough to know that Mumbo looking at them means breakfast is soon, and they can stop giving him pleading looks in bed and can go sit quietly by the bedroom door. But they are also smart enough to know that it will be another few minutes before he gets up, taking a few more moments to appreciate the warm, quite mornings now that he's actually awake enough to take everything in.

But Mumbo knows the dogs won’t wait forever, and there's a long list of things he wants to get started on before the rest of the server wakes up and starts causing chaos. So Mumbo presses a kiss to Pearl's temple and slowly detangles himself from her and the warm covers. There's a little grumble she always lets out as he does, but he attributes that more to the sudden chill as he slips out from under the covers rather than her being conscious of him leaving. He knows that by the time he comes back upstairs to change out of his pajamas, she'll be sound asleep, sprawled cross the bed and taking up more space than a single human should be capable of.

But right now, the most pressing concern is the flock of dogs patiently waiting at the bedroom door for him to get breakfast started, and the growing feeling that hot cup of tea sounds like a great idea right about now.

[the-storm-chaser]

She couldn't help but frown at the latter part of his explanation. He had that much trouble containing the power? In some ways, she could sympathise. While Senko was mostly only active when wielded...there still had been accidents regarding the pendant, and trying to deal with the aftermath was sometimes problematic...especially when others were involved.

'I suppose you could say that, guess they are similar in some capacity' One of her hands let go of the reigns, gesturing forward. 'I'd be happy to explain, but I agree. Might as well make use of the light while we can.'

A couple of taps and she was able to keep pace with the other, keeping her eyes on the road. While there were no more threats while travelling...it might have taken them slightly longer than she anticipated. The roads had differed slightly than what was on her map, meaning they had to take a diversion. While more rough terrain, they were still able to find somewhere suitable as the skies shifted to a more orange hue.

'Would this do? Fairly sheltered, but a decent view. There was also a stream further back if needed.'

“Yes! A battery! That’s exactly right!” He perks up at the addition to his thought. “Except instead of being drained and recharged, the current never stops. It’s just there, waiting. Sometimes it’s easy to control, sometimes…" He let the thought trail off, a small, knowing smirk forming at the edge of his maw. "Well, let’s just say I’ve ruined more than a few fine robes and singed a couple of library tables." “But that fragment of yours is interesting… I guess we have quite a bit in common then, don’t we?” He smiles, now bouncing along to the trots of his horse. 

“Say how did you come across the fragment and your blade? They’re not the usual fare for the average mercenary. Oh! You can tell me all about it over dinner. We should probably find a good patch of land to set up camp soon…” 

“Let’s ride a bit longer and keep an eye out.” Akrahan grips Biscuit’s reins and picks up the pace a little bit more. 

It won’t be much longer till the two find a proper camping spot for the evening.

[gotchibam]

I've been doing some test streams this past few weeks and I think I want to try it for real this time! Nothing fancy, just a simple art stream & some lo-fi music 🎶

I might be able to host one later (maybe a couple hrs from now?) so just look out for the post if you want to join! Also made a twitch & youtube channel for hosting & archiving future art streams so you can also follow me there if you'd like to get updated 😌

[ourtalechara]

Stupes please wear sunglasses more often you look so ho- I mean normally and regularly aesthetically attractive in an entirely platonic way

[forcebookish]

idk how gmeme's contract with viki works, if they get paid for every stream, but i am never going to buy a subscription so they've definitely lost thousands of dollars worth of ad revenue from me alone lmao

[kyouka-supremacy]

Uhm..................

[mad-hunts]

✧

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse! (with italics as a 'sometimes' option because i'm a rule-breaker and things may depend on the situation).

i would kill you. ✧ i would physically hurt you. ✧ i would attack you unprovoked. ✧ i would manipulate you. ✧ i dislike you. ✧ you annoy me. ✧ you scare me. ✧ you intimidate me. ✧ i hope i intimidate you. ✧ i pity you. ✧ you disgust me. ✧ i hate you. ✧ i’m indifferent toward you. ✧ i’d like to get to know you better. ✧   i’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ i’d like to be friends with you. ✧  i’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ i’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ you are my friend. ✧ you are my best friend. ✧ you are my mentor. ✧ i look up to you. ✧ i respect you. ✧ you are my hero. ✧ you inspire me. ✧ you are my enemy. ✧ you make me happy. ✧ i want to protect you. ✧ i would fight by your side. ✧ i consider you an equal. ✧ i think you are beneath me. ✧ i think you are above me. ✧ i would lie for you. ✧ i would lie to you. ✧ i would sleep with you. ✧ i would sleep by your side. ✧ i would hug you. ✧ i would kiss you. ✧ you are family to me. ✧ i would die for you. ✧ i would kill for you. ✧ i would trust you with my life. ✧ i would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ i would trust you with a secret. ✧ i would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ i love you (platonically). ✧ i love you (romantically).

[shakespearean-dream]

okay i’m allowing myself one more pointless ramble post into the void before i get off my ass and finish my IHNMAIMS designs

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"[...]and... your family."

miklan is still alive in this route and is referenced immediately after this scene, he's literally telling sylvain to take care of miklan too

[todayisafridaynight]

poppo oc that i made as a joke accidentally breaching containment. maybe.

[flockrest]

Since time immemorial, the Rito have been deeply connected to the winds and all they have to offer — in a way that surpasses bare, profound appreciation. For them, it goes beyond physical attachment ( of which is still greatly significant! ) and is indelibly tied to their spiritual and cultural identities.

Seen more as a relationship — where the winds are the source of all nourishments and fulfilments, and they are simply partakers of those boons — this concept is rooted and condensed in a word that doesn't have a concrete, established meaning so much as a contextual one that defines many things all at once: Windlines.

When speaking of the Windlines, one could be referring to the material winds and their boundless touch; or the nebulous "voice" of the winds as perceived by those especially responsive to their movements and paths; or the closely related but separate consciousness of the winds that carries, blesses, curses, or otherwise meaningfully interacts with all beings; and so on. Not quite an entity, almost bordering on a kind of philosophy with how hugely it shapes their way of thought — but believed in all the same!

Knowledge of the Windlines, and hence, this layered relationship with the winds, has been reliably passed down through generations with little to no external nor internal distortion. How an individual develops that knowledge — as well as with it — may differ ( e.g. very few may take it to unprecedented heights, bending the Windlines to their will and becoming masters among patrons, whilst others may be content with simple, competent flight ), but the core foundation is pretty much universal.

Being estranged from the Windlines in any capacity can be unbearable for any Rito. Peaks Among the Ripples saw the worst of this impact during the upheaval detailed in their Songs of the Stormwind Ark: with the Windlines so absent, population health and wellbeing waned, even if nothing was bodily amiss. Essentially, Windlines and what they embody are incredibly important! An integral part of a Rito individual and whole collective!

[pythonscrypt]

i will be honest. do not know what i'm doing on this blog anymore i'm just here to reblog silly posts and share my silly songs and games and thoughts sorry

[krawdad]

I want the record to state if the switch 2 ends up with 2 screens somehow or another I called that years ago

[skrunksthatwunk]

finally looked up whether ill lose my state scholarship if i drop out after lowkey deciding i probably need to and the answer is yes 😶