#Nonviolent Organizing

[yinyuedijun]

so sorry if this is a stupid question but like... how do u age up characters, not like literally but like in a writing sence (cause ur suo fics were honestly amazing)

this isn't a stupid question at all, it's actually something I struggle a lot with LOL and I'm glad to hear that you liked how I handled it in my suo fics - thank you for reading 🥺!

here are the approaches I take to generally ageing people up:

think about their canon characterization - not just their traits and habits, but also their motivations/values and where their character arc is heading

think about what kind of path they'd be heading toward as an adulthood (in material, mundane terms - university, type of work, relationships, major life events, etc). sometimes the series will give you careers they're heading towards, but wherever that's not the case, I usually like to stick to very realistic career paths because it grounds them into a realistic kind of adult context that we would be able to relate to. if they're getting into some kind of exceptional career (like, for instance, yakuza membership lol, but even if I kept them in delinquent groups like shishitoren or roppo-ichiza), then I usually go out of my way to justify it.

now this is the tricky part - think about how the events of their adulthood would affect their motivations/values, traits, habits, and larger character arc. the motivations/values and character arc pieces are very important, because it basically defines the adult characterization. (that's why so much of the suo fic revolves around his master and the effect of losing him, and what it does to his values and character arc!)

I also like to think about how other, normal adults would perceive this new aged-up version of them - the typical salaryman, the typical convenience store worker, etc. I find it helps recontextualize the character away from the canon setting and toward a more realistic, adult context. this is mostly so I'm not viewing the character through rose coloured glasses as I'm writing them lol (eg, someone who may be charming to us because of our attachment to them in canon might in fact be a neurotic loser to the average well-adjusted adult).

sorry I yapped so much rip - hopefully this helps!!!!

[dailyanarchistposts]

In the summer of 2018 I was at a movie night event with newly acquainted classmates from grad school. We were all still getting to know each other and one of them asked me something about my personal beliefs. I don’t remember the details but I remember admitting I was a Buddhist anarchist. I think the reason I put it in those terms had to do with the context of our discussion. Mind you, he is a Japanese classmate whom is fluent in English. But his response was something to the effect of, “How does that even make sense?” And his response filled me with the urge to lecture to him then and there about how Buddhism and anarchism are actually compatible if you really think about it. I was tempted to mention the Japanese Buddhist anarchist monk, Uchiyama Gudō (May 17, 1874 – January 24, 1911), and Emma Goldman’s personal friend from India, Har Dayal (14 October 1884 – 4 March 1939), but I resisted the urge. Instead I promised myself that I would write an essay expounding on this compatibility. So this essay is the result of that urge.

To be sure, I’m not saying Buddhism is to be conflated with anarchism prima facie. Many so-called Buddhist traditions did indeed serve as legitimators of tyrannical rulers and often fomented violent conflicts (e.g. the Genpei war, the Nanboku-chou conflicts, Ikko Ikki rebellions, and so on). And to explain what I mean by Anarchism, let me just first explain the source of my own anarchist convictions. Pyotr Kropotkin is possibly the most influential as he argued for peace and prosperity among humans in his Mutual Aid. The next proponent I draw from is Rudolf Rocker and his outline of Anarcho-Syndicalism as a communal answer to many of the problems that come with an imperfect world driven to subsistence should we fail to cultivate favorable conditions, agriculturally and infrastructurally. And third in my list of influencers would be Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, as he was instrumental in outlining the tyranny of property. And I personally define anarchism in the way atheists define atheism. Just as the prefix ‘a’ means “not” and ‘theist’ means “believer in god”- I am stating the prefix ‘an’ also means “not” and ‘archist’ is a catch-all for all things ending in “archy”: hierarchy, monarchy, oligarchy, patriarchy, etc. The objective of anarchism is to instill a sense of dignity in all people and to charge all with the agency to realize and defend their human rights.

I believe Buddhism and anarchism overlap from the start because both traditions aim to critique the status quo. Additionally, there are several key factors about the Buddhist dhamma and its relationship to political convention that I think makes it more compatible with anarchism than any other political ideology. These factors are expressed in five major juxtapositions: 1. Prince Siddhartha’s defiance against his father, Oligarch Śuddhodana; 2. The dhamma’s dissolution of the Hindu caste system in Northern India; 3. Specific texts accredited to the Buddha that speak against dogmatism; 4. The Sangha’s function as a commune living beyond the limits of monarchies and oligarchies (and often functioning as sanctuaries beyond political realms); 5. Tales of the Buddha and his discourses with the Hindu gods. There is a lot to explore here, so let’s get right into it.

[thetimeicansee]

[ncfcatalyst]

Cop City protestors served RICO charges

The controversial proposed police and firefighter training facility in Atlanta colloquially known as Cop City is back in the public consciousness. Two years of protests have already resulted in the death of at least one protestor under suspicious circumstances.  The state of Georgia indicted 61 protesters and organizers on racketeering and domestic  terrorism charges using the Racketeer…

[gear-n-gunge]

Takei lives out the ideals of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations!

[mahrahpalestine]

Trump just said the US will take over Gaza and “level” it. He said the US will “own” it.

And forcibly remove the 1.8 million Palestinians who live there. And it will become the “Riviera of the Middle East.” It is not just illegal. It is immoral.

And dangerous. And evil. ،Difficult days are ahead. We need courage. And prayer. And good organizing.

Today is Rosa Parks’ birthday… we need to lean in to the rich tradition of civil disobedience, good trouble, and nonviolent direct action.

If you are still interested in supporting the Gaza cause, donate to my family here to support us in standing firm and foiling the immigration plans.

Donate here.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"It was fitting that on the spring day in 1942 when George Houser and his friends Bernice Fisher and Homer Jack set out to demolish racial discrimination in America—seeking, in a sense, to invent or discover a new world—they drove to Columbus, Ohio in a borrowed car with an unusual paint job. World Peace Car, it said. On one side of the vehicle, a hellish war scene was presided over by the devil, with a caption reading, War is Satan’s Way. On the other, angels looked down at a pastoral scene. Peace, the caption said, Is God’s Way. Fisher was mortified: “Don’t we have problems enough? Everyone’ll think we’re a bunch of kooks.”

Yet the car was an apt metaphor. Nonviolence, to these young idealists, was to be the vehicle for ending discrimination in America. Fisher quickly resigned herself to making the trip in a rolling billboard: “As Gertrude Stein would put it, ‘a car is a car is a car.’ As long as it will run.”

Run it did, carrying them through midwestern farm country to a meeting of the Fellowship of Reconciliation’s national council, where Farmer was to present his ideas for a large-scale nonviolent civil rights campaign. The council authorized a new organization along the lines Farmer envisioned, but as a kind of pilot project in Chicago. Something like the organization he had in mind, however, was already growing there among Houser’s multiplying cells. Houser mentions it to Muste in July almost in passing, at the end of a long, ruminative letter about the nature of pacifism, among other things. “There is another development in our Chicago action program about which you should know,” he writes. “We are very interested in seeing Brotherhood Mobilization get started. While we are waiting, however, we have started our own committee working along the lines which B.M. will be working. We call this group the Committee of Racial Equality (C.O.R.E.). We do not call the group a pacifist group as such, but we are committed to non-violence in all that we do.”"

- Daniel Akst, War By Other Means: How the Pacifists of World War 2 Changed American for Good. New York: Melville House, 2022. p. 155-156.

[faithslayer202]

I thank @socialismforall for giving a shoutout for Green Socialist Organizing Project which me, Garret & Chris are helping build the Green Party into a Mass Membership Party.

Please do share, we could use new people into the cause like for helping create video clips!

Accounts to reach me out too:

Facebook: (https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100012525635124)

Tumblr: (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/faithslayer202)

Twitter: (https://twitter.com/Faithslayer202)

YouTube: (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWNmH4eW7NS_XlAdUxuQzNA)

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Discord: (Faithslayer202#9316)

Examples of what videos were crafting for Green Socialist!

CLIPS: Ecosocialism 101 Session 2 (2022):(https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDTC9USV5d-FJB9d1XTJxl1Vt-Z-SepKe)

[zvaigzdelasas]

Do you have an analysis on Sinwar being the new politburo chief? Very unexpected choice.

Have a couple thoughts:

Dissolving more of the barrier between Hamas as a political organization & as an insurgent organization

Spitting in Israel's face who was hoping that a decapitation strike would leave hamas with a leader lacking broader political legitimacy in the organization or create divisions/deepen divisions between civilian governance & militant organization

Lessens the leverage Qatar has over Hamas as they were providing Haniyeh with refuge

Since Sinwar is (presumably) in Gaza, his presence will likely be used to justify decreasingly discriminate attacks even moreso than it was before

Likely much more uncompromising (not to imply Haniyeh was) in negotiations

Israel and the US will have to directly negotiate with someone they despise

Dropsite News describes sinwar as such:

Despite the sinister portrayals, Sinwar’s writings and media interviews indicate he is a complex thinker with clearly defined political objectives who believes in armed struggle as a means to an end. He gives the impression of a well-educated political militant, not a cult leader on a mass suicide crusade. “It's not this black image of Sinwar as a man with two horns living in the tunnels,” said Hamad, the Hamas official who worked directly with Sinwar for three years. “But in the time of war, he's very strong. This man is very strong. If he wants to fight, he fights seriously.”

In 1988, just months after Hamas was founded, Sinwar was arrested by Israeli forces and sentenced to four life sentences on charges he had personally murdered alleged Palestinian collaborators. During his 22 years in an Israeli prison, he became fluent in Hebrew and studied the history of the Israeli state, its political culture, and its intelligence and military apparatus. He translated by hand the memoirs of several former heads of the Israeli intelligence agency Shin Bet. “When I entered [prison], it was 1988, the Cold War was still going on. And here [in Palestine], the Intifada. To spread the latest news, we printed fliers. I came out, and I found the internet,” Sinwar told an Italian journalist in 2018. “But to be honest, I never came out—I have only changed prisons. And despite it all, the old one was much better than this one. I had water, electricity. I had so many books. Gaza is much tougher.”[...]

Sinwar, unlike leaders of Al Qaeda or ISIS, has regularly invoked international law and UN resolutions, exhibiting a nuanced understanding of the history of negotiations with Israel mediated by the U.S. and other nations. “Let's be clear: having an armed resistance is our right, under international law. But we don't only have rockets. We have been using a variety of means of resistance,” he said in the 2018 interview. “We make the headlines only with blood. And not only here. No blood, no news. But the problem is not our resistance, it is their occupation. With no occupation, we wouldn't have rockets. We wouldn't have stones, Molotov cocktails, nothing. We would all have a normal life."

Throughout 2018 and 2019, Sinwar endorsed the large-scale nonviolent protests along the walls and fences of Gaza known as the Great March of Return. “We believe that if we have a way to potentially resolve the conflict without destruction, we’re O.K. with that,” Sinwar said at a rare news conference in 2018. “We would prefer to earn our rights by soft and peaceful means. But we understand that if we are not given those rights, we are entitled to earn them by resistance.”[...]

After the end of Israel’s 11-day bombing campaign against Gaza, Sinwar spoke to VICE News and sought to frame the Palestinian struggle in a U.S. context, using recent cases of lethal police violence against African Americans. “The same type of racism that killed George Floyd is being used by [Israel] against the Palestinians in Jerusalem, the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, and in the West Bank. And by the burning of our children. And against the Gaza Strip through siege, murder, and starvation.”

And additionally (echoing the words of Hagari)

Support among Palestinians for Hamas and its Gaza leader Yahya Sinwar, according to the recent poll, “remains very high” and has increased during the past three months. At the same time, while two-thirds of Palestinians polled in the occupied territories believe that Hamas will “win the war,” only 48 percent of those in Gaza agreed.

Hamas has insisted the war cannot destroy its movement and will remain part of the tapestry of Palestinian factions governing its besieged and occupied territories. “What matters is that you finally realize that Hamas is here. That it exists. That there is no future without Hamas, there is no possible deal whatsoever, because we are part and parcel of this society, even if we lose the next elections,” Sinwar warned in 2018. “But we are a piece of Palestine. More than that, we are a piece of the history of the entire Arab world, which includes Islamists as well as seculars, nationalists, leftists.”

Daniel Hagari has also echoed this last bit [TimesOfIsrael is Israeli Private Media]

“Hamas is an idea, Hamas is a party. It’s rooted in the hearts of the people — anyone who thinks we can eliminate Hamas is wrong,” he continued.

Rumors are that Netanyahu is trying to figure out necromancy in order to bring Haniyeh back

Also check out this interview conducted by Vice

[dostoyevsky-official]

Despite its public portrayal of itself, the ADL isn’t a civil rights group in any meaningful sense, but rather, a veiled pro-Israel lobbying organization that uses superficial language of inclusiveness and anti-racism to defend Israel from criticism from the left. The ADL has made it clear on a number of occasions that it considers the entire basis of the peaceful Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement — embraced by virtually all of Palestinian civil society — to be hate speech, specifically any claim that denies Israel’s ​“existence as a Jewish state” (e.g. its claim to ethnonational supremacy over non-Jews living in Palestine). The ADL’s website clearly states, ​“Anti-Israel activity crosses the line to anti-Semitism” with any statement that ​“Israel is denied the right to exist as a Jewish state,” and that ​“the founding goals of the BDS movement and many of the strategies used by BDS campaigns are anti-Semitic.” The ADL smearing Black activists who oppose Israel isn’t new. In the 1960s, the ADL harshly criticized the Black-led Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Black Panthers for their criticisms of Israel, equating these ​“negro extremists” with the KKK and American Nazi Party. The ADL also worked with the Israeli government in the 1960s, ​‘70s and ​‘80s to spy on Arab groups, as well as leftwing anti-South African apartheid activists. As Pulitzer Prize-winning author Glenn Frankel noted in Foreign Policy magazine in 2010, ​“The Anti-Defamation League participated in a blatant propaganda campaign against Nelson Mandela and the ANC in the mid 1980s and employed an alleged ​‘fact-finder’ named Roy Bullock to spy on the anti-apartheid campaign in the United States — a service he was simultaneously performing for the South African government. The ADL defended the white regime’s purported constitutional reforms while denouncing the ANC as ​‘totalitarian anti-humane, anti-democratic, anti-Israel, and anti-American.’”

[kick-a-long]

I think people misunderstand the nonviolent movements of the sixties and before/after. They were absolutely motivated by moral principles, but non-violence was also a tactical choice. And a smart one.

If the government can argue that a movement is violent and dangerous the average person can’t defend it as easily and it’s much easier for a government to justify breaking it violently. Non violence is most persuasive in a democracy where opinions dictate laws.

If a movement advocates nonviolence, acts nonviolent, and polices violence inside their movement, it’s hard to justify ignoring it. It also generates networks of support that might be alienated otherwise.

People on here like to rewrite what helped civil rights, woman’s rights, and gay rights really make change. It wasn’t the riots and the violent rhetoric. It was the fact that people in those movements could stay in them and interact easily with systems outside their communities. They weren’t “dangerous” as colleagues or friends. They could dialogue and organize which made them valuable in more ways than just their cause. It also attracted high functioning people to join their movements and generated change from people already able to better affect it.

In short, nonviolent movements were sympathetic and attracted equals, not exclusive and dangerous. India didn’t need to war with the British who had them out gunned and out funded. They just needed to break the British morale and make sure the British knew they were in the wrong with no justification for spending money and man power just to look bad.

That’s just my opinion. Violence begets violence and not much else. Dialogue and detailed goal oriented negotiation has a much greater effect.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Conclusion

In this essay, we first discussed Prince Siddhartha’s defiance against his father, Oligarch Śuddhodana and how this defiance broke from hierarchical concepts such as patriarchy and filial piety; secondly we explored the dhamma’s stance on the Hindu caste system in Northern India, in the Buddha’s time and in the 20th century; thirdly we examined specific texts and concepts accredited to the Buddha that oppose dogmatism; fourthly, we saw that the Sangha has functioned as a commune existing beyond the limits of monarchies and oligarchies, and how they often function as sanctuaries beyond political realms; finally we examined abridged tales of the Buddha and his discourses with the Hindu gods where the justifications for oppression, oligarchy, hierarch, patriarchy, and monarchy were deconstructed within the suttas. And the above is just a fraction of the literature available regarding the Buddha’s dhamma.

Siddhatha Gautama, the Buddha of the Shakya tribe, Shakyamuni, was declared by the hermit yogi Asita that he would either be a conqueror or a sage. And despite oligarch Śuddhodana’s wishes, Shakyamuni Buddha determined to become a sage. From the very beginning he rejected the premise of political life in Mahājanapada period India. His early life story warns against information being concealed in order to manipulate others. The Buddha’s dhamma would then live on to be one of the single-most convicting critiques of the caste system. The Buddha himself declared all people are created equal. And later Mahatma Gandhi, Indian independence activists, and anarchist theorists would look to Buddhism for answers regarding how to undo the caste’s hierarchy. Suttas like the Kesamutti Sutta warned specifically against gullibility and acceptance of authority prima facie, which departs from all other belief systems deemed religious in some way and is in accordance with anarchist principles.

What’s more, the Buddha’s Sangha was a refuge from political life for all people, from Kshatriya kings to Brahmins, to Dalit untouchables. the Sangha is an equal-opportunity commune that subsists without the use of money or assets. This was a direct affront to the market system of the time, and even drew the ire of nearby merchants. And the entire basis for hierarchy in ancient Indian society was challenged by the Buddhist dhamma. Their creator gods were subjugated, allegorically dismissed, and so the concept of divine right of rule in the Indian rendition was challenged by the dhamma. I will be first to admit that Buddhism and anarchism part ways at a few very important junctures, but they remain compatible if we remain nondogmatic about either tradition. Both worldviews have indeed come to be synthesized in my own mind in the same way this essay was written, as I have taken the precept of avihiṃsā nonviolence.

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part One

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment. Word Count: 5,144 Warning: A little bit of angst?; Mention of death; menstruation, cramps A/N: There's multiple pieces of fan art for this fic. If you'd like to check it out, you can find everything linked in my masterlist! Masterlist Music Inspo (Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage Next Part

Part One

You were recruited four months ago into the Spider Society. Ever since the beginning, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards the leader and founder of the society. You learned quickly about his past and the way he carried himself these days.

Miguel O’Hara worked day and night. If he wasn’t in his lab working on something, he was out on missions with a select few members or on his own. There were days that you wouldn’t even see him. You wondered if anyone did on those days. You told yourself to mind your business. It’s not like you were friends and you hardly interacted anyway. You were a member of the Spider Society but one of the newest ones. You weren’t part of the most trusted members for Miguel.

And yet… There was something. You felt a need to look after him. You couldn’t understand it. You wanted to chalk it up to interest. Maybe you found his story interesting. How a man had simply replaced a version of himself in another universe to be a father, only to lose her when that universe collapsed. How heartbroken and guilt-filled he was over it. That had to be it, you told yourself. It was just intrigue. 

You figured that if you just gave in to your interest, it would go away eventually. It would fade away… So, you allowed yourself to be interested. You showed up to meetings earlier than anyone else when Miguel scheduled them. You stopped by the cafeteria to pick up coffee cups beforehand and arrived at the meeting earlier. You came in, looking unbothered and uninterested as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him, greeting him.

“The cafeteria staff gave me another cup, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” you’d say as he looked up with an uninterested look on his face.

You’d walk away and take a seat a few chairs away, picking up the nicely done reports he provided at every meeting. You did this every week with a different excuse each time. You didn’t know if he ever wondered why the cafeteria staff gave you so much coffee since that was usually your excuse. You doubted he even cared; you were just another member.

The first few times, you noticed the cup would sit in the same exact spot you’d leave it. Miguel wouldn’t even acknowledge it after looking up at you. You still brought it each week. After some weeks, he wouldn’t even look up when you placed the cup in front of him on the desk but – he started giving you a small grunt of acknowledgement. You’d walk away with a little grin, quickly putting it away when you sat down on your usual seat so he wouldn’t notice it.

Then about two weeks later, you saw it. As he was going over the reports and listening to Ben Reilly ramble on about his past because of some anomaly he caught that week, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. You looked away as you felt his gaze about to turn to you. The reports looked very interesting indeed.

All throughout this, you also started showing up to his lab after he and Jessica requested to see you about a mission. You noticed there was quite a mess of gadgets lying around. You offered to organize it, as it is something you enjoy and are good at. You didn’t even know why you offered but Jessica seemed eager about the idea while Miguel frowned.

“Oh, come on, Miguel. Some organization around here wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look at this mess,” Jessica said looking around, pointing at different areas cluttered with all sorts of tech pieces.

“Fine,” Miguel said as he walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

Jessica beamed at you. She seemed to like you a lot since you did your job well and didn’t get into any drama. You were like the perfect pupil. You nodded at her, with a warm smile.

So that’s how you ended up showing up once a week to Miguel’s lab to do some organizing. You show up and organize as he works on something. Sometimes he is up in the air on his platform, going through monitors. You simply greet him as you arrive before you begin organizing and cleaning. Sometimes there is no response, other times there is just a “hmm”.

These visits have led to Lyla taking a liking to you. She often asks you questions as you work while Miguel is there. You don’t know if he pays attention to what Lyla and you talk about. You honestly doubt he even listens. He is always so engrossed in what he is doing.

Lyla definitely makes the time pass faster. It isn’t like you wanted it to but the silence in the lab is… off sometimes. Lyla asks you all sorts of things like whether you have plans for that weekend, if you enjoy a certain activity because other spider members enjoy it, if you like a certain food, or how missions have gone, etc. It is always something different. You respond to her questions as you work. You are fast and efficient.

You never miss a week, and you are never late as you have made it a habit to show up at the same time. Except this week that is. You started your period and this month is kicking your butt with excruciating cramps and lower back pain. You barely make it to your home after patrolling your city, sliding into bed in pain.

You dig through your nightstand, looking for the specific medicine you take to take care of this even if it makes you extremely drowsy and dizzy. You take it and lie down, hoping it will help right away as you groan in pain. You lie in bed, clutching your stomach. The medicine definitely makes you drowsy and dizzy, but it doesn’t seem to help much with the pain. You pass out a few times but wake up again, the pain too much.

You’re so out of it that you don’t notice the time. You don’t remember the day. You don’t notice the sun out behind your closed blinds. You don’t hear a multidimensional portal open in your small apartment living room. You don’t register the heavy footsteps that move through your apartment. Your eyes are closed, hands clutching your stomach, soft groans escaping your lips. You don’t see the large shadow moving through your room until the last second.

“Go away,” you say weakly, thinking someone has broken into your home.

Despite your pain, despite feeling drowsy and dizzy, your mind still has the time to find this funny. The one day you feel like absolute crap is the day someone decides to break into your apartment. And you’re Spider-Woman! How ironic, you think. Let them take whatever they want, you think, as long as they don’t hurt you.

However, you are surprised when you feel a warm and heavy hand pressed to your forehead.

“No fever,” the voice says stating it as a fact.

You continue to clutch your stomach, eyes closed. Unbeknownst to you as you lay in bed in and out of it, a man is in your apartment. His height towers over you in bed.

Miguel O’Hara is in your apartment… Checking on you. He stares down at you as you lay in bed. He sees you clutching your stomach and as he observes carefully, he sees no injury. There is no sight of blood either. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. You are clearly in pain but why? He turns to your nightstand, noticing the bottle of pills. He inspects it. Painkillers…

His eyebrows furrow further as he realizes what it could be. He walks to your bathroom to confirm. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at your garbage can, spotting the plastic wraps of feminine products. His suspicion is further confirmed when he sees a pack of feminine products on the counter, ready for easy access.

“Coño,” he says quietly as he realizes his suspicion is true.

He walks out of your bathroom, looking at your shape in the bed. You are still clutching your stomach and soft groans escape from your lips ever so often. Miguel remembers the days he used to take care of his wife before everything collapsed. It was a long time since he had even thought about doing that for a woman, but his mind started remembering everything he did to ease his wife’s pain each month. He stood there, thinking before he walked out of your bedroom and into the one room that was the kitchen, the living room, and dining room all at once… New York apartments, Miguel thought, as he took in your apartment.

You were organized and clean, but that didn’t surprise Miguel. You did organize the lab each week with such ease despite Lyla peppering you with questions the entire time. Your apartment was warm with its colors. It gave the impression of someone happy and warm. Miguel noticed a bookshelf in the part of the apartment that plays the living room. It is filled with so many books that you have some stacked horizontally over the vertical ones. An avid reader, Miguel thinks before he heads to your kitchen.

It is clean for the most part except for a plate and a cup. Miguel searches through your kitchen, looking for something specific. He returns to your room, looking through your drawers looking for something else. A few minutes later, he returns to your bedroom. You lay still. Seems that you have passed out at last. With ease, Miguel slides some homemade socks with warm rice under your sweatshirt. He places one on your stomach and the other one on your back.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips, letting Miguel know his idea was somewhat successful despite it being homemade. He gives you one more look before heading out to your living room.

He doesn’t even know why he came. All he knows is that you didn’t show up to organize the lab like you did each week. You didn’t show up to the morning meeting either. Jessica hadn’t heard from you in hours and there was no activity from your gizmo.

A few hours later, you wake up from your slumber. You yawn and stretch your body gently. You lay in bed for a few seconds, realizing your pain is gone. Now you just feel the exhaustion that comes from having a period. You sit up in bed slowly, feeling something on your stomach. You look down. Your sweatshirt is tucked into your shorts on both sides. You untuck it and two socks filled with something slide out. You furrow your eyebrows as you lift them up to inspect closer. You bring them to your nose.

“Rice…” you say, recognizing the specific scent of rice. Your eyebrows furrow but you shrug. You don’t even remember getting up to make these, but you thank yourself for doing it despite being out of it. You get up from bed slowly and check the time. It’s already evening. You decide to take a shower to ease your muscles.

Your shower is hot. You fill the bathroom with fog, but it doesn’t matter. It makes you feel like a million bucks when you get into fresh clothes, all shower and fresh. You head out of your bedroom to get something to drink and that’s when you see it. The lamps in the living room are on, there is music playing from your record player. You look confused as you step out further.

“Mierda,” you hear an annoyed male voice, causing you to jump a little.

You turn to the voice, located in the kitchen and find…

“Miguel?” you say slowly but with confusion as you find him with his back to you.

He stands in front of one of your kitchen cabinets, holding it open. There’s a screwdriver in his hand. He turns around at your voice.

“Y/N… You’re awake,” he says turning fully around now.

You take him in. He’s in his suit as always. You’ve wondered many times if he ever just dresses in casual clothes since he’s always in his suit. He stands tall, of course, and you can’t help but think how he makes your already small kitchen look ten times smaller than it is with him standing there. You rub your eyes, making sure this isn’t just some hallucination.

“Um- you are here,” you say looking at him again.

Miguel nods, turning back around to the cabinet. You watch as he uses the screwdriver. You remember then. Your loose cabinet that has been a pain in the butt for months now. You look around the place. There were some dishes in your sink, or at least you remember there being some but now they’re gone. You notice the trash was taken out. Clean dishes were put away. And to your surprise, there’s food on the stove. There’s also a sweet scent lingering in the air that you cannot pinpoint right now.  

“You feel better?” Miguel asks, with his back still to you as he finishes fixing the cabinet.

“Yes. A lot better, actually…” you say as you cross your arms across your chest, finding this situation so strange.

Miguel turns around to face you now. He looks at you before looking down at the screwdriver in his hand. The screwdriver looks like a toy in his hand, you notice.

“Yeah, well…” Miguel starts, looking up at you again. “Jessica was worried about you. She said you didn’t report to the meeting we had this morning. She asked if you had gone to my lab to organize it and when I told her no, she grew worried something had happened to you since she also noticed no activity from your gizmo. She wanted to come herself and check on you, but the baby kept her busy today. She asked me to come in and check for her.”

I nod, realizing that makes perfect sense. Jessica has grown fond of you after all, you just never realized she was that fond of you.

“Well, thank you for checking in on me for her. I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow,” you say looking around the kitchen again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Miguel says, putting the screwdriver down on the counter. It looks normal sized again. You raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t like it when people thank for her… caring. If you want to thank her, just get her a coffee and tell her you appreciate her mentorship,” Miguel explains, resting his hands on his hips.

You nod slowly, maybe it was better to just thank her for everything instead of just this act. You sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, scratching your neck softly. “Did she also tell you to fix my cabinet, or did that just bother you so much?”

Miguel’s face remains void of any expression. You wanted to ask about the homemade socks with rice since it became apparent to you that you weren’t responsible for them, but you kept your mouth shut.

“I was looking for – rice when I noticed your loose cabinet and other messed up things around here. You have a shitty landlord or something?” he asks, looking around.

You shrug. “Yeah, but the rent is good.”

“You’re not exactly strapped for cash, are you?”

You shake your head. It was true. You had some money. You could afford to move somewhere else where the landlords were better but…

“Why are you still here then?” Miguel asks.

His question is laced with interest, and you can’t help but think about how this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him since… meeting each other. And even then, that conversation was probably about three minutes long. You avert your gaze from him, looking at the wall nearest to you. Your eyes land on a single picture amongst many.

You lost your Peter three years ago, just like many of your spider colleagues. Losing him has been the hardest thing you have ever experienced. You have been punched till the air was knocked out of you, you have laid in ruble with buildings crushed over you, and you have been on the verge of death many times, but nothing has ever nor will ever compare to the pain and grief of losing Peter.

As you look at the picture of Peter and you, the one you took the first day you moved into this apartment, you think about all the memories in this apartment. It was all the two of you could afford back then but you two loved it. It was your place. It was the first time you were living together, and it didn’t matter much that it was a little rundown. You guys just wanted a place to live together. You two made it what it is now. A warm and happy place where you two could come home after a long day of work. You spent hours thinking of how to decorate it. Choosing the right and most affordable couch, choosing the wallpaper, choosing where the furniture went.

In the end, it had turned into a beautiful apartment. It was a haven for the two of you but what mattered the most was that you shared it with him, your Peter. You sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the loss again. You had moved on, of course. You had to. How else would you live otherwise? And you had promised Peter you would. Your mind is overwhelmed by the sudden memories as he laid in your arms. He had been crushed by ruble during an attack by a villain, his body was weak, his eyes glistened as they looked at you. You remember caressing his face and hair. He loved it when you did that. He always said it was the perfect way to soothe his nerves. The perfect way to get him to relax and nap after a stressful day.

Your own eyes were filled with tears as you saw it. The way his life was slowly leaving his body. What hurt a million times more, if it was even possible to hurt that much, was that you knew he knew. He knew that was it. There was no turning back. There was no miracle. There was no secret medicine or miracle serum that could make him get up and walk away from this unscathed. That was it.

You held him in your arms, rubble all around you. He looked at your eyes, his own hazy, as you caressed his face and hair. He gave you a gentle smile as he reassured you, he was okay.

“You will move on, right, baby?” he asked you, his voice indicating how little time there was left. “You have to… You must promise me you will. This city depends on you.”

You nodded your head and unable to hold them back any longer, your tears spilled down your face. You remember how some of your tears had landed on his pale yet still beautiful face.

“You must promise me, out loud, darling. Please,” he said, struggling more to get his words out.

“I promise. I promise I will try my best…” you said, and he had nodded. He looked satisfied with your response.

“You must continue – you are my hero. You always have been. And you are the love of my life, darling… I only wish we had more time. That I had more time to make you happier… To make you, my wife. Please – promise me you will be open to other loves,” he had gasped out.

You shook your head. That was impossible. How could you fall for someone else when Peter was the love of your life? Peter, noticing your reluctance, lifted his hand weakly to your face. Despite everything, he was still trying to comfort you. You felt something in you break further. He wiped your tears and gave you a weak yet comforting smile.

“Please promise me you will allow yourself to love again… If there is someone out there that makes you feel like that, please promise me you won’t shut them out. Please, love, promise me,” he said, looking at your eyes and cleaning your tears away.

His voice was weaker, and you noticed his chest was beginning to rise slower and slower. The time was running out…

“I promise I will. I will open my heart if someone comes along but I promise I will never stop loving you, Peter,” you had answered, trying to make him happy in his last minutes. He smiled at you, sweetly, and thanked you. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent. You tried to hold on to his warmth desperately. You clung to him, like you could defend him from Death herself. Like you could defy her this one time.

You cried your soul out as his heartbeat ceased to beat. You cried out as his body became limped in your arms. You cried as his chest stopped moving. You cried, cried, and cried as you held him close to you like your tears and grip could bring him back.

You cursed Death.

You often worried about hurting Peter if something happened to you. You never counted on Peter being the one who left too soon.

You inhale shakily. Your vision has become blurred with tears as you continue to stare at the picture on the wall. You turn around, remembering that Miguel is there. You wipe your tears discreetly. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force it down. Otherwise, the moment you speak, your tears will flow. You clear your throat.

“It doesn’t really bother me – and besides, I spend a lot of time out,” you finally say, sounding somewhat normal now. Though the ache is there, deep in your chest. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart with a wooden stick and left a small piece of it stuck. It always hurts, it always aches.

Miguel doesn’t reply as you turn back around, feeling more in control of yourself. However, you can see something in his eyes. Perhaps understanding? You guessed he probably knew to some extent what had happened to you. It was a canon event for all spider-people. To lose someone.

“Have you eaten anything?” Miguel asks suddenly, dropping the apartment conversation probably for your own sake.

You shake your head. It was hours since you had eaten something. Since yesterday, really.

“There’s some food here. Let me…” he says trailing off, turning around to get a plate from a cabinet. You can’t help but feel a little surprised at how fast he learned his way around the kitchen. Then again, it’s not that large you realize. You approach the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the two island chairs as Miguel turns around with a plate of pasta. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. It is one of your comfort foods. Miguel slides it over to you, gently. A fork is already on it, ready for you.

You slide the plate closer, the scent of it making your stomach growl instantly. You’re definitely hungry.

“Thank you,” you say before you dig in. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. It is amazing. “This is really good.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just watches you. You eat some more, feeling a bit self-conscious as you feel his gaze on you, but you ignore it. Or try to.

“So, are you a really great cook or is pasta one of the few things you can cook?” you ask, slowing down on your eating, trying to fill in the silence.

Miguel shrugs. “My mother taught me how to cook when I was a teenager. It stuck.”

You nod, still eating. “Great skill to have, really… It helped me and –“ you pause, realizing you were about to mention Peter. You swallow. “It helped Peter and I when we were in college,” you finish, looking down at your plate.

A hint of a smile forms on your face as you remember Peter and you cooking for the week over the weekends. You guys lived separately but shared groceries to help each other out. It saved you guys a lot of time and money and brought the two of you closer.

“It is a great skill to have,” Miguel agrees quietly as you continue to eat, looking down at your plate.

You nod silently as you finish eating. You look up at Miguel, he’s looking down at the counter. His hands are flat against the counter, and he looks lost in his own thoughts. You can’t help but take this time to look at him. The sight of him in your kitchen is really something. You think about how great he is at these things like looking after a woman when they’re on their period or cooking. You want to facepalm yourself as you realize it’s obvious he would be good at these things. He did have a wife and daughter at one point, you remind yourself. You look down at your plate.

“Oh, I made this for you, too,” Miguel says at last, breaking the silence.

You look up curiously, wondering what else he had made. He turns around towards the stove and you watch carefully as he retrieves a mug from one of the cabinets. Again, you feel surprised seeing how he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for. It disappears from your view in front of him and you hear him pour something. He turns around again, holding one of your mugs. Whatever it is, is hot as you can see steam from the top. He sets the mug down on the counter and slides it over to you. Again, his movements are gentle. You lean forward and reach for it.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he warns, as you pull the mug towards you gently.

The scent fills your nostrils quickly and you recognize the sweet scent that met you earlier when you exited your bedroom. You look up at him.

“Canelita,” you say, grinning.

Miguel nods. “Growing up, my mom said it helped with cramps. It used to help my…” he trails off.

You nod. “Yeah, my grandma used to say that, too.” You pause as you inhale the sweetness of cinnamon. “Thank you…” you reply, with sincerity, still meeting his eyes.

Miguel only nods. You drink the warm liquid, enjoying the warmth that spreads down your throat, chest, and finally your stomach. As it settles in your stomach, you feel warm and cozy.

Miguel clears his throat then and looks down at his gizmo. “Well – I should get going. I have some things to catch up on,” he says turning his attention back to you.

You nod as you place the mug on the counter gently and get up. He walks out of the kitchen portion and heads to the middle of the room. He starts clicking on his gizmo, presumably starting a multidimensional portal. You walk towards him, leaving some distance, of course. He looks up at you as the portal appears in the middle of your apartment behind him.

You clear your throat. “Hey – I just wanted to say thank you… For everything. I know Jessica asked you to check up on me, but you did much more than that. I truly appreciate it,” you say, hoping that you’re fully expressing how grateful you are.

You can’t help but think about how you’d probably still be in bed right now. Miguel nods.

“It’s no problem…” Miguel replies, though he looks like he wants to say more. You watch, waiting but he just stares back with little emotion until he nods at you and turns around. He starts walking into the portal. The bright lights coming from the portal create shadows in your apartment. You watch wordlessly until he looks behind his shoulder. “Don’t forget – don’t mention it to Jessica. She can be weird about being thanked sometimes.”

You nod. “I won’t bring it up, no worries. Thank you again. Enjoy your night!” you call out and he just nods before he disappears into the portal. The portal disappears a few seconds after him, taking away its shadows with it.

You sigh as you stand there for a few more seconds before taking a seat again on the counter island. You drink more canelita, still cherishing the warm feeling. You look at the stove. Everything is in containers and there’s no sight of dirty pans, pots, or utensils.

“Cooked and washed the dishes…” you say to yourself before taking a sip again.

Your attention turns to the cabinet you found him fixing earlier. You get up and walk towards it. You open it with no issue. You think about all the little nicks this kitchen has. Like the drawer that doesn’t come out fully or the other cabinet door that makes a noise every time you open it. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you know it, you are pulling said drawer. Your lips part in surprise as the drawer fully slides out without issues. You check the other cabinet door. No sound.

You sigh as you look around, your eyes landing on the containers. One of them is full of leftover pasta and the other one contains the canelita. Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear your gizmo go off. You turn in the direction it came from, trying to remember where you left it last night. You are usually very careful with it but last night you barely made it through the door.

You find the gizmo on the console table in the living room section of your apartment. You realize there are a few messages from your colleagues like Hobie, Miles, Ben, and Jessica. You quickly reply to the first three who asked about your whereabouts before you move to Jessica’s. You realize she sent multiple messages all ranging from asking how your last mission went to why you weren’t answering to asking if you were okay. The last one makes you stop. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you read it.

“Okay… You haven’t replied to any of my messages. Do I need to send someone to check on you? You’ve been MIA all day. Let me know you’re okay!!”

You look up towards where the portal was opened just minutes ago. You shake your head and reply to Jessica, notifying her about what happened. You leave out Miguel though. You put away your gizmo in its usual spot and look around your apartment, thinking. The lamps in the living room section are still on, the record player has stopped playing, however.

“Hm.”

--------------------------------------------- Translation for italicized words: Coño - fuck (it varies by country) Mierda - Shit Canelita - a tea made out of cinnamon sticks

Next Part

A/N: Might do part two. If it matters, I listened to "Nonviolent Communication" from the ATSV album as inspiration. Such a lovely song for Miguel, I think.

I love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

[st-dionysus]

Gained a lot of followers in the past week, so to be clear: Arm the left, arm Black communities, arm trans+ communities. I own a gun - you don't have to, but you shouldn't dismiss the leftists that do as 'reactionary'. Unspeakable violence is done onto our communities daily and the people who want you dead all have guns.

Read "We Will Shoot Back" by Akinyele Omowale Umoja

Read "This Nonviolent Stuff'll Get You Killed" by Charles E. Cobb Jr.

Read "My People Shall Live" by Leila Khaled

Read "Negroes and the Gun" by Nicholas Johnson

Read "We Refuse" by Kellie Carter Jackson

Read "Good Guys with Guns" by James Pogue

Do literally ANY research on Black community organization in the 60s and the Black Panthers. (Do this regardless of how you feel about guns, if you live in the United States, you have a responsibility to educate yourself on the civil rights movement).

Research the Socialist Rifle Association

Research the Pink Pistols

Research the John Brown Gun Club and Redneck Revolt

Research the Huey P. Newton Gun Club

"...the point of the Second Amendment isn’t that an armed people can necessarily push over the government. It’s just that an armed people can only be pushed so far." (X)

And once more, regardless of how you feel about guns after reading through these recommendations, I highly encourage you to look into local self-defense and deescalation training as well as local community mutual aid groups or even just online peer support groups if you can't find anything local and don't have the ability to build something local. Things in the US will not be getting better for the working class, for Black and brown communities, or for queer people anytime soon under this government.

[thatbugkidd]

The murder drones x hollow knight au... its rotting my brain

For a little context and lore for the au let me dig up some stuff i wrote a bit ago

Alright, Cyn is a moth. Which, slight spoilers? But in game, they're generally seen as peace keepers and a nonviolent tribe. Cyn resides in the Aurelian Line palace (Aurelian literally means golden, and is often related to butterflies. The elliots are butterflies hehehe) as a maid. The palace is a grand, magnificent castle that traverses deep underground, going through several regions. It is golden, shimmering in the faint light that makes its way down below.

Humans have been long extinct, forcing their own downfall with their technological advancements, effectively killing themselves off in a war that couldn't be won. The bugs of the kingdom speak of ancient giants who used to be able to harness these powers and fell below the earth because of it.

Remnants of this technology still exist, though due to the track record, it was strictly forbidden to be interacted with and was sealed away.

It was so well kept, many considered it simply a legend, a myth and nothing more.

That is, until the Aurelian line rediscovers it. Believing they can use its power and harness it themselves, they begin meddling with the technology. Obviously, this eventually backfires lol.

The most esteemed intelligence of the palace couldn't figure out how to operate anything. It was constant trial and error. Tessa, the heir to the Aurelian palace, has a passion for science and all things technological. She has the idea to test the technology's reaction with organic material. She decides to use lifeseeds to experiment on.

Late one night in secret, Tessa sneaks out of quarters and into the dark chambers below where the technology is stored.

The initial reaction is.. bad! Or good, depending on how you look at it. It starts off as an aggressive burst of energy, the lifeseeds quickly growing corrupted as it fuses wickedly with the technology, filling the area with a viscous substance in seconds. This traps tessa in a cocoon of sorts.

The technology ends up "attatching" itself to the lifeseeds, and in turn, also all of the lifeblood. Essentially traveling as a consciousness through the root systems.

Now basically being a sort of AI, with no "OS" or vessel to operate on, it quickly surges out in the form of little corrupted lifeseeds, looking for a potential host. And of course a certain bright eyed moth is attracted to the light. To the promise of safety and power. The promise of a changed, better world. Where everyone is connected, everything is in order, everything is one.

In a matter of days, everything wickedly changes. What once was a gorgeous, lively golden castle, is now cloaked in darkness, the only light being the harsh blue glare of screens, pulsating wires and roots strewing throughout the place.

Obviously this is all very rough, its basically evil AI takeover fused with biological elements so... biomech horror >:] but bugs

Ty to @thatoneguyrumble for the idea with the lifeblood >:3 very very cool