#and then you can acknowledge where the hard stops are

[avelera]

Ugh, sorry, one last political point because it’s the day for it and this is bugging me.

Democrats and people on the left in the US have got to knock it off with this whole, “All Trump voters are obviously stupid” thing.

I’m sure it’s satisfying to believe, but it is simply not true, and making assumptions about your opponents that aren’t true is how you lose elections.

Half of the voting population of this country is not stupid and it is ludicrous to insist on believing that. Trump voters include doctors, lawyers, business owners, people with PhDs and graduate degrees, and people who attend college courses for fun. They are, unfortunately for many of us including yours truly, our parents and relatives and I at least know for a fact in those cases that they are well educated, well traveled people.

Assuming these people are just stupid and uninformed is, in fact, stupid. It a simplistic view of the world that is going to make your platforms lose if you embrace it and refuse to look deeper.

In practice, people engage in politics because they want the greatest happiness and prosperity for the largest number of people that they care about.

Everything after that is just haggling over price.

For example, the Left/Democrats might believe that the great amount of happiness and prosperity is brought to the largest number of people they care about when an advanced degree is available to everyone without leaving them in crippling debt, when people can age with social services that allow them dignity, when billionaires and companies cannot exploit their workers, and when peace and just causes are allowed to flourish around the world, including the education and enfranchisement of women, and the long term health of our planet. I personally believe that brings long term prosperity to us all.

Left and Right wing voters right now both probably agree that everyone is happier and more prosperous if they can afford a house and have a job that covers their needs and then some. How to get to that is the sticking point that they disagree on.

Right wing voters also want prosperity for themselves and those they care for and what they disagree on with the Left is how to achieve that. I’m not going to go into their platforms here because the whole point of this post is not assuming things about your opponents.

Now in order to persuade people to hold more Left leaning views, you need to make the case for why what you care about is a thing that they should care about and, more importantly, how it enhances the happiness and prosperity of them and those they care about.

Otherwise, you are asking them to vote against their own interests, which no one engages in politics to do, at least not on purpose (even if it is the ultimate outcome in many cases).

If you don’t care about making this argument to opposite side, then fine, you’ve already lost and you deserve to keep losing elections.

You deserve to lose because you’re not making a case for why anyone should support your causes in order to gain happiness and prosperity for themselves and those they care about, including expanding the field of people they care about, and it is ludicrous to expect people to do that without being persuaded either intellectually or emotionally.

This is what finding common ground and building coalitions is about, even if you don’t agree on every point. And if you self isolate and stick to your purity, you deserve to lose because politics is about how we govern large groups of people towards a common goal that, ultimately, is best simplified as the goal of their greatest happiness and prosperity.

Good faith politics is negotiating over what that means. Because resources are finite we can’t all get everything we want all at once. And not everyone agrees on everything so you need to prioritize the best possible allotment of happiness and prosperity for the short and long term, and that’s when we get into the nitty gritty of all the horse trading that happens in politics etc etc.

And you get into things like billionaires having outsized ability to enact their own happiness and prosperity but here’s the thing, many people especially on the right go along with those views because they believe (rightfully or not) that those goals will increase their own happiness and prosperity as well and if you don’t agree you’ve got to explain to them intellectually or emotionally why that is and provide and alternate platform or path for them to gain it that is more effective by at least some measure of that value.

Anyway, at the risk of this becoming a political science thesis from someone who isn’t a political scientist, just an amateur academic, tl;dr please knock it off with assuming everyone who disagrees with you is stupid, it is a losing proposition and it doesn’t get us anywhere near the goals we want to achieve politically, ie, the greatest happiness and long term prosperity of the people we care about.

[p0orbaby]

Getting You Alone Isn’t Easy

summary: two reckless lovers, one ill-timed call, and zero chance of stopping

warnings: suggestive but not explicit

a/n: the length of time it took me to decide on a title for this was painful

word count: 1.5k

-

You’re draped over Alexia, straddling her in the faint, golden light that sneaks through the blinds. Her hands grip your hips in that familiar way, like you’re the last thing keeping her from floating off. You’re gasping, breathless, clinging to the taut warmth of her body beneath you as though the world is ending and this is your only way to stay grounded. Her hands, usually gentle, are digging in hard enough to leave bruises, but she’s sweet like that, knows exactly when you need to feel it. You can almost picture the bruises they’ll leave behind, thumbprints like violet ink smudged across your skin, each one a reminder that she was here, and that she wanted you badly enough to leave a mark.

It’s been a day, one of those long ones that started with a sun-blinded hangover, progressed into a searing headache, and then—once you forced yourself to actually acknowledge the calls you missed last night—moved rapidly toward near apocalyptic levels of panic.

Somewhere between the drink you had to “take the edge off” and the fourth one you drank without even thinking about it, Alexia texted you, and it felt like a solution, or maybe a distraction, though those two things are the same to you most of the time.

So here you are, in the thick of it, your bodies wrapped around each other, your mind slipping into that strange, dreamlike state where it feels like your skin isn’t your own. Everything’s heightened—her touch, her scent, the whisper of her breath on your neck. You’re right at the edge, teetering, and then—

Your phone rings.

Of course it fucking does.

At first, you ignore it. The vibrating hum is muffled against the sheets, barely noticeable above your own heartbeat, but then it rings again, louder this time, insistent. It’s like a drill sergeant at dawn, determined to ruin whatever peace you’d managed to find. You freeze, eyes half-closed, but Alexia’s hands don’t loosen. She’s looking up at you with an expression that’s half bemused, half annoyed, as if she’s only just managed to convince herself that you’re here, and now you’re about to ruin it with some petty, buzzing bit of reality.

You almost get through it, on the cusp letting it go to voicemail or hurling the damn thing into the bottom of your Birkin where it belongs. But something in you—a survival instinct, maybe—forces you to reach for it, fumbling as you do so. Alexia’s eyes follow your hand, then flick back up to yours with an exasperated look that says, Really? Now?

You manage to grab it without rolling entirely off her, though it’s a close call. Her hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place as you glance at the screen, and of course, it’s George. It’s always George. You swear he has some kind of sixth sense, an uncanny ability to detect the exact moment you’ve slipped into some semblance of happiness, so he can yank you back with some catastrophe or another. The man is a walking interruption.

“Don’t,” Alexia murmurs, pulling you back to the matter at hand, her voice soft but firm, her hands slipping up to your ribs with a kind of slow, determined patience. But you know better. If you don’t answer now, he’ll only call back five more times, and each time, he’ll sound more panicked, until he finally leaves you a voice note that’s somehow worse than the call itself.

“I have to,” you mutter, as you answer, attempting to clear your throat and sound like you weren’t just seconds away from giving in to everything she was doing to you.

“Hello?” you say, trying and failing to keep the breathlessness out of your voice.

George’s voice crackles through the speaker, shrill and brimming with that particular brand of theatrical urgency agents reserve for “crises.” He sounds faintly nasal, the sort of voice you imagine would belong to a man with an allergy to anything fun. You imagine him sitting in his cold, grey office somewhere in Soho, every surface immaculate and white, his expression permanently fixed into a grimace of perpetual disappointment.

“You need to sit down,” he says, voice pitched in that “I’m barely holding it together” tone that never actually means anything good.

“I am sitting,” you manage, though it comes out sounding more like a gasp than anything else, because Alexia—God bless her—is now trailing her lips along the column of your throat, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re very much occupied now. In fact, you’re convinced she’s doing this on purpose, her eyes meeting yours with that devilish glint that says she’s fully aware of what she’s doing. You pull back and give her a look—part warning, part exasperation—but she only grins, slowly, like she’s daring you to keep up the charade.

George doesn’t miss a beat. “There are photos,” he says, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight that would make anyone else think he was delivering news of a tragedy.

“Photos?” you ask, as Alexia’s hand slips a little higher, her fingers just grazing the edge of your panties. You’re barely holding it together, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. “George, there are always photos. What are you on about?”

He sighs, the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves for when he’s forced to explain the intricacies of your own life to you. “Not just any photos,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow makes everything sound worse. “These are… explicit”

“Explicit?” you repeat, your voice catching because Alexia’s lips are trailing across your collarbone now, her fingers dangerously close to places that make it impossible to sound remotely professional. “Define explicit, George”

He pauses, a beat of silence so thick with hesitation you can practically see his nervous, tight-lipped expression. “You and Alexia. On that yacht. Full-on… everything. Let’s just say someone with a very long-range lens took a rather extensive interest in your… activities”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, it’s like being doused in cold water. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the sweat on your skin, Alexia’s fingers toying with you, her mouth now having moved to the swell of your exposed breast. You can’t tell if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that, somehow, your most private moments have once again become public property.

Alexia looks up at you once more, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and enjoyment, as if she can tell exactly what George is saying and finds the whole thing hilarious.

“So you’re telling me,” you say, trying to sound casual, though it’s hard with Alexia’s hands and mouth all over you, “that someone out there’s publishing wildlife documentaries of my sex life?”

“Don’t be flippant,” George snaps, though his voice cracks a little, like he’s barely holding it together. “This is serious. The Daily Mail already has them. And they’re… well, they’re explicit. The kind of thing they’d plaster on the front page if they could get away with it”

For a moment, you consider the insanity of it all—your life, reduced to some tawdry tabloid spread, the kind of thing boring nosey housewives read in supermarket queues. You imagine the headlines, the breathless, shocked tones they’d use to describe “the scandal.” Never mind the fact that you’re not the first celebrity to get caught like this, nor will you be the last. But still, it stings in that strange, twisted way fame always does, a reminder that your life isn’t really your own.

“I’m sorry, George,” you say, barely stifling a moan as Alexia’s hand moves just right, making it almost impossible to keep up the conversation. “But I don’t exactly have a solution for you right now”

George lets out a strangled noise. “Well, you bloody well better come up with one. Unless you want the world to know what you look like without your clothes on. Which, I might add, is not exactly… career-friendly”

You stifle a laugh, more out of habit than anything else. Alexia’s fingers are moving with that slow, calculated patience she knows drives you mad, and you can feel your resolve slipping. “Look, George,” you say, your voice strained, “I’ll call you back. After I… handle things”

“What? You can’t just hang up on me!” he practically shrieks, but you’re already pressing ‘end call’ and tossing the phone aside.

The phone lands back somewhere on the bed, George’s panicked voice cutting off abruptly. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Alexia lets out a low, throaty laugh, her eyes alight with amusement. She reaches her free hand up, trailing her fingers along your jaw, and there’s something wicked in her smile that makes you forget the world outside the bedroom.

“Where were we?” you murmur, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

“Right here,” she whispers, her voice soft but possessive, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you back down, your bodies tangling once more as you lose yourself in her warmth.

[azmageddon]

Silence (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian’s twin!healer! reader

Summary: It’s your turn to find the silence deafening.

Warnings: Short section of spiciness, but definitely not smutty. Also, you can pry the angst from my cold, dead, hands. Give me all the angst. Also painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

A/n: Sorry it took so long! I’m obsessed with making everything perfect. Enjoy! Let me know what you think and what else you want to see.

“I have one for you too, Y/N.”

You looked up from where you were leaning against the wall at the back of Rhys’s office. Everyone’s eyes were on you and you could have sworn that Azriel, who was leaning against the wall next to you, had stopped breathing all together.

“Me?” you asked, confused.

Rhys only nodded, holding the invitation out further in his outstretched hand. You shuffled your way forward, Mor and Amren stepping aside to give you space. When you finally reached his desk and gripped the letter, you gave it a swift tug, but Rhys didnt let go. The two of you stood there for a moment, hands attached to the letter in a quiet tug-of-war over his desk. You caught eyes with the High Lord. They seemed to say be careful before he finally released the envelope.

Worry hummed across the bond, mixing with yours and sitting in the pit of your stomach. Turning back toward your spot in the back of the room, you risked a quick glance up to Azriel and saw concern plain on his face.

“Watch your face,” you reminded him in his mind and he quickly returned to his stoic, unreadable expression. “Wouldn’t want to blow our secret over a silly invitation, would you?” You tried to keep the conversation light and carefree, but it was difficult when dread had crept into your mind. If Azriel felt your nervousness, he didn't acknowledge it.

“You know,” he replied, “I’ve been rethinking keeping this a secret. Don’t you think it’s time they knew?”

“But it’s so much fun sneaking around.”

You could feel Azriel’s metaphorical eye roll through the bond and suppressed a chuckle while you took your place back against the wall. “I just thought it would be nice after keeping it a secret for nearly 400 years. But we can talk about this later. Open the letter so I can read it, too.”

You did as he asked, slipping your finger under the delicate fold of the envelope and pulling at the wax seal until it released with a pop. Slipping the invitation nestled inside, you turned it around so as to read the looped cursive sprawled in fluorescent gold ink across the page. You felt Azriel shuffle closer to get a better opportunity to read over your shoulder.

Y/N,

It is with great pleasure that we request your presence at the Masquerade Ball hosted by her majesty, Queen Amarantha of Under the Mountain. Please kindly reply within a fortnight. Punctuality is of the utmost importance.

“I don’t like the look of this,” came the voice of your mate in your head.

***

“How do I look?”

Azriel’s eyes snapped up from the book he was reading and instantly dragged themselves across your body. A groan from deep in his chest vibrated through the room and you were hit with a wave of arousal across the bond.

“Down boy,” you teased, stepping toward the vanity at the corner of the room to touch up your makeup. You felt Azriel’s eyes glued to you as you moved. Your dress, dark and revealing, was something Rhys insisted you wore to the party. You were used to outfits like this, the fabric accentuating your full hips and showing off your years and years of hard training. It reached up over the curve of your breasts and plummeted, reaching nearly low enough to expose your belly button. The Night Court demanded respect from those outside the bubble that was Velaris, and your High Lord chose to express the Inner Circle’s blind confidence through dress.

“Gods, if I knew you were going to wear that I would have argued with Rhys more to let me accompany you two.”

You sat at the vanity and reapplied your lipstick. From over your bare left shoulder came a lone tendril of Azriel’s shadows. It snaked along the curve of your collarbone and circled around your neck a few times before settling itself snuggly around your throat like the most priceless of necklaces.

A shiver went through you as the shadow gave a gentle squeeze. “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t insist on you and Cassian to join us. You’d have thought he would use this opportunity to show off the strength of the Night Court to the other courts.”

Quiet as his shadows himself, Azriel’s large fingers slowly replaced the wisp of temporary jewelry. It dissipated at its master’s touch, and his hand gently, but firmly, tilted your head back so as to give him better access to the pulse point currently beating wildly at your neck. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear and you let out a soft moan.

“I’d like to see you out of that dress,” he whispered against your skin.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard at his words. A quick nip at your skin had you gasping out a response. “I can’t,” you managed. “Rhys will be here any second.”

Azriel trailed a rough calloused finger along the membrane of your wing and you felt a flush of desire and pleasure run through your body. The need for him flowed through your veins and it seeped deep into your bones. He could tell your willpower was faltering. Every emotion and neediness that you felt was pouring through the bond into his own soul.

“So tell him you’re not ready yet. I won’t take long.” Another nip at your skin, this time at the cleavage of your breast, had you nearly giving in. Your eyes fluttered closed and your chest heaved as he peppered kisses along your neck. But before you could utter another word, there was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” came the voice of your High Lord. “Are you ready?”

Knowing neither of you could actually delay your departure, you sprung apart. Jumping up so quickly, you felt your chair tipping backward, only to be caught by one of Azriel’s shadows.

“One minute!” You called through the door and turned back to your mate.

“You have to go,” you whispered in a rush, quickly grabbing your bag from the bed and your shoes from their place beside the closet. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

In your frantic dash across the room to retrieve your items, Azriel gripped your shoulders, halting you. His lips crashed into yours, passionate, hungry, and hurried. It left you breathless and you gasped for air as he pulled back, traces of your lipstick staining his own lips.

“Later, Shadowsinger,” you whispered as you reached up on tiptoe to place your lips against his again, more gently this time.

“I’ll meet you at the exit to say goodbye with the others,” he said into your mind and, stepping into a swirl of mist and shadow, he was gone.

***

“Az, the Autumn brothers are here.” Across the bond, you felt Azriel perk up. He must have been focused on something, perhaps reading a report or reviewing paperwork for his next mission. But at the sound of your voice in his head, you could feel his attention shifting to your gossip.

“Did they dress up?” he asked. “Please tell me Eris came as something ridiculous. Like a chicken or something.”

“Gods, no.” You suppressed a smile and glanced over at the heir to Autumn Court. The only costume he wore was his flaming red hair and permanent scowl on his face.

“Actually,” you continued across the bond, “It looks like Rhys and I aren’t the only ones who refused to dress up. In fact, the only ones who have costumes are the Spring Court.”

Amarantha was saying something, servants coming around to pass out wine in goblets that rivaled the finery of Rhy’s own private collection. You took one without thinking but hesitated before taking a sip. You recalled the words toast and finest wine coming from your hosts lips at some point. When your High Lord, who hadn’t left your side all night, didn’t drink from his yet, you followed his lead.

You barely paid attention all night, anyway. One arm constantly linked into your High Lord’s, you had to play the part of the mysterious, ruthless, second-in-command of the Night Court. Not many outside of Velaris knew much about you, except that you were an exceptional healer and twin the Night Court General. You played the role Rhys had expected you to, and Gods, did you play it well. Not a male in the room could take their eyes off of you, with your long flowing hair, curvy, yet muscular, body, and strong, unclipped Illyrian wings.

But frequently, you found your thoughts drifting back to your mate and the strong fingers you had wrapped around your throat a few hours ago. You hoped they would find their home there again upon your return to The House of Wind later tonight.

A wave of arousal hit you that wasn’t entirely your own and you realized Azriel must be having the same thoughts.

“Having fun without me, Shadowsinger?”

“Just remembering you in that dress,” came Azriel’s voice, low and sultry. “And all the ways I could take it off of you later.” You nearly choked on the breath you took. Rhys cast you a look out of the side of his eye, but you ignored it because Azriel was still speaking.

“Or maybe you can leave the dress on. It doesn’t offer much coverage, anyway.” His voice was growing darker, deeper, and more sensual with every word. “Or maybe the heels. Just the heels.”

You shook your head to clear it, attempting to focus on whatever Amarantha was saying in her toast. Wealth… happiness… friendship… blah blah blah. You ignored her sentences, picking up only on a few words. You did manage to make out her command to drink! before you caught eyes with Rhys. They portrayed something you couldn’t quite read. Sadness? Regret? You must have missed a part of her speech that was important.

Deciding to ask him about it later, you took a swig of your glass along with all the others in the chamber. The wine was sweet, thick like honey, and coated your throat on its way down. In fact, you felt it coating your entire body like a warm blanket. It worked its way into your bones and after a few moments of warmth, you felt the feeling turn to ice.

Icy tendrils shot through your limbs and you ruffled your wings to try and dispel the feeling. But it only became stronger and stronger until finally you felt a deep, soul crushing, emptiness. Quick as it began, the feeling was gone, and with it, the hum of the bond in your chest.

“Azriel?” you called to him. But no response came. Panic seized you and you clutched at your chest with your free hand, your other wrapping tighter around the arm of your High Lord. He was turning toward you now, saying something, but you ignored him. In fact, the entire chamber had erupted into chaos. Voices were all around you, angry and yelling. But the one voice you called for again and longed to hear was silent.

You didn’t know what it felt like to have a bond that was closed. You only knew that this was far, far worse.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name jolted you from your panicked soul searching. You looked up, catching eyes with the High Lord.

“Azriel,” you whispered out loud to him.

“What?” He asked, hands on either one of your shoulders, steadying you.

“Azriel,” you repeated to him. “He’s my mate.” The truth came tumbling out of you. The secret the two of you had kept for 400 years suddenly seemed foolish.

Rhys shook his head, not understanding your words. “Your mate?” He asked, confused. “For how long? Does he know?”

You nodded, tears suddenly filling your eyes. You pushed against the golden thread that tethered the two of you together, but it only ended in darkness. “We’ve been mates for nearly 400 years. We’ve kept it a secret for… oh Gods, Rhys, what has she done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly snapped it closed. He looked over your shoulder and you whirled, finding Amarantha standing there.

“Oh, my dears,” she began, her voice scraping across your ears like nails against stone. “The two of you are just lovely, aren’t you?”

[nrdmssgs]

To my beloved ones who need this

This last 24 hours, I saw a concerning amount of 'if he wins - I'm ending my life' messages. I will understand, if you don't feel like I have a right to talk about this situation, as I am not an American citizen. But if it's cool with you - I have 8 things that helped me personally to stay, when things around went south.

Give yourself time to mourn. You have every right to feel like you feel right now. Even if you couldn't take part in what is happening. This is your life and it matters. Cry openly at home if it's a safe space. You can share your feeling with me, if your home is not safe. Eating your feelings up may sound like a good strategy in a short run, but it will have a backsplash later.

Don't give yourself too much time to doomscroll. I don't mean this like 'don't read the news at all'. I know, It's extremely hard to control this, but this is important. Give yourself time. Like 'ok, I'm doomscrolling from 1 to 2 pm. After that, I'm writing that fanfic, reading that book, shopping for groceries'.

Do mundane household things. Right now, it might feel like you don't have any control over your life. Like tomorrow, angry people come at your door and burn you. I understand, where does this come from, but I also understand that this feeling can grow into an all consuming fear, that might end you. So it is important to fight over this sense of control. 'I am in control of what I'm eating today, I am in control of what bedsheets I'm sleeping on today'. These are very tiny things, but they might help you from sliding down the fear.

Walk. If it's safe for you - please go out. I know, it doesn't cure depression, but I promise you, forcing your brain to analyze new information (new scents, dynamic surroundings) for maybe an hour a day helps in keeping yourself from circling around one damaging idea.

Acknowledge, you are not alone in what you feel right now. One of the scariest things your brain can decide right now is 'I am alone, I'm surrounded by enemies'. The truth is, you are not alone in this. There are millions of people mourning with you right now. Concentrate on them. If it helps - watch streams with their demonstrations, read their articles, do anything to not forget, they are out there.

It may now seem like you lost some of your relatives and friends. Don't forget that you don't have to force yourself to communicate with them right now. But also don't forget that you are not obliged to declare 'from now on I don't have a father/granny/sibling'. Maybe you will burn all the bridges, maybe with time you find some way to talk to each other despite what happened. Don't force yourself to choose right now because it's a very hard thing to do.

Make a small plan for 6 months from today. And I don't mean 'plan every week'. No, do a little thing. Buy a cinema ticket or a train ticket to somewhere not too far from your home, sign up for a 'prettiest origami contest', ANYTHING. But it must be not for tomorrow, it must be a long term plan. This little anchor might give you a little help.

Right now, it might feel like this is the end. But as someone who was there more than once: I promise you, this is not. This is not necessarily the end for you personally when a tyrant comes to rule your country, when he brings to life the most inhuman laws, when he starts a genocide. I don't mean this as 'stop whining, you softie, you are exaggerating this'. You are not exaggerating. As well as many people in Europe weren't exaggerating, when they acknowledged 1. September 1939 as the day, when the Evil took over the world. There are some diaries left from that time, that end abruptly in 1942 or even 1944 with the author taking his life, declaring, that this heel of a war will never end. But we all know that September 1945 and the war was over. Our task right now is to live to that day.

I love you all. I mourn with you.

[s-wave-entertainment]

*BAM*

THAT WAS THE SOUND OF ME BUSTING THE DOOR DOWN. HI. Okay so first thing's first, I recently saw an animatic (??) by @/armintist on Instagram about N's perception of Tessa as of ep. 6 and it has broken the dam. Your honor I think about what must have been going through his head at that given moment So Often; some may say too often (I know my roommate definitely would, sorry Anna-). Y'all, he literally just remembered her existence and because we have no canon timeline as to how long was between eps. 5&6, I'm going to assume it was no LESS than two hours, IF EVEN. Doll could have gone straight to "Tessa" from Uzi's house, we'll never know. But like... what in the fuck was going on in his brain? This person, who he KNOWS that he knows, that he has vague, barely comprehensible memories of from a time far back into his past that he only just got back, is suddenly standing right in front of him again. And he hesitates, because OF COURSE HE DID. It looks like her (or does it? He doesn't remember his face, he never even truly saw it), it sounds like her, it feels like her... but how long has it been? And why here, why now?

Honestly, "Cyn's" pretty smart. She knew he would be willing to go along with what he told her because he's never really pressed into his memories before. He's relieved the tidbits of them, sure, but he tends to acknowledge them and move on. She knew all she had to do was act right and he would probably trust her. But what she didn't account for was him finding a love worth fighting for, and that's where her ultimate fucky-wucky was. But I'm not here to talk about "Cyn's" strategy, I'm here to talk about our beloved traumatized murder robot puppy.

What do you think happened when it hit him that that skin over Cyn's body wasn't of it's own creation? That his friend was technically still alive, if you count her preserved remains being thrown over a robot body like some sick and twisted reverse fursuit. And it can't be said that that didn't happen, because it definitely did. N's little episode in the hallway while "Cyn" hunted them down showed us that he is in fact recovering his memories. Slowly, and at very unfortunate times, but he is. And I can almost guarantee you that at some point, in some way, he must have recovered the full memory of the gala massacre. And oh me oh my, that must have been a long, hard day for him. Thank God he has Uzi now-

That aside, he must eventually realize what happened. And as he remembers more and more good times with her, his little heart probably just shattered more and more. Along with all of the other BULLSHIT he must be remembering following ep. 8.

AND ANOTHER THING ON THAT NOTE. I have so so so many emotions about N and how good he is and how,,,, Genuinely Good his heart is. Like actually. Y'all, need I remind the court that he was supposed to KILL Uzi. He had her PINNED TO THE WALL with a wing, but after watching her father turn around and ABANDON HER, he stopped. And sure, it can be reasonably said that this is because he spent some time with Uzi beforehand, but how long would they have had together, logistically? Ten minutes, maybe twenty, tops?? The fact that that was enough for him to COMPLETELY CHANGE SIDES and want to help her instead (which is also attributed to the conversation they had in the cockpit but again, TEN MINUTES)... listen, Uzi had no one before she found N, but N had no one either. J openly abused him, and V had to act like she hated him to protect him. N was lonely, just like Uzi. Somehow, someone found him who was kind to him and seemed to actually care. She was a little edgy, but she talked to him and she listened. It was more than he had at the base - and the same was true for Uzi. But again, I could talk about how much I love NUZI for hours, right now I want to talk about how good N's heart is. He was a worker, once. A worker who did everything he could to be... useful, to Tessa's parents, but a good friend to Tessa. And he loved his friends. He has,,, so much love in his heart. He always has. And he gives it so readily, and it can hurt him, but he like - he gets better about it, I believe. He can guard himself better these days, but he just. He still cares. And he cares so much and he just. GOD. GOD I LOVE HIM AND I FEEL SO TERRIBLE FOR WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH. FUCKING HELL-

[voxofthevoid]

relate to being turned off from satosugu bc of the fandom. especially being on twitter makes me feel crazy omg bc i'll see posts where people are straight up acting like gojo was completely fine with what geto did bc gojo is just oh so down bad for him and loves him more than anyone else in the world and he doesnt care about anything he just wants geto back. and that is just. so untrue and also so boring, imo.

Because to me, gojo truly *is* a good person in his actions. he says crass things and maybe his mentality can be detached at times, but he always helps people where it counts. Even when he was taking Riko's body away and he asked geto if he should just kill the cult members and geto said no- I have a hard time picturing gojo actually going through with it even if geto *had* said yes. Because for all that gojo postures, I don't think he truly has that kind of bloodlust and rage in him, imo. Not even saying that I think killing those cult members would've been bad, or that Gojo would never ever kill anybody (simply not true), I just simply don't think gojo wouldve stopped walking, turned around, and killed allll those people in that instance (or if he did, I think he wouldve felt,,, off about it afterwards, despite what he said).

But I see so many stsg shippers who act like the only reason gojo was heartbroken about the situation was just because geto left him, and not bc, yaknow, geto committed reprehensible atrocities and became a supremacist. and i'm like,,, are we watching the same show? it's truly such a BAFFLING perspective of the relationship to me. like why erase their moral differences ? doesn't that make the ship more interesting? Sometimes I feel like the reason they do that is bc they can't handle the fact that Geto post-defection is seriously NOT a good person. at all.

stsg as a ship could be sooo much more interesting, imo, if people didn't erase the fact that geto BETRAYED gojo with what he did. not just the leaving. the village massacre, the parricide, the fact that he had no shame about it and stuck by his actions. all of those things betrayed gojo. bc i think gojo truly does want to help people, and he thought that, no matter how hard it was, he would always have geto along with him to do it, and that would make the pressure easier. instead geto chose to become one of the people that makes gojos job harder, lmao.

i think if shippers actually acknowledged that fact the ship wouldn't feel so fucking boring to me.

I’d save you from Twitter if I could, friend. Not saying other sites are free of harebrained idiots. I have Getou and satosugu blocked here for a reason, and I’ve seen screenshots of rancid fucking takes from TikTok and Instagram. Even Reddit—and I’m talking about canon discussion subreddits that generally ban ship talk—didn’t spare me from having to see people’s most reductive takes on this ship. But Twitter in particular seems to be where brain cells go to die.

Nothing in the world can make satosugu compelling to me, but objectively, it’s a ship with rich potential—for angst, for drama, for fluff, for toxicity, for love, for hate, for all of it combined. Like you’ve said, one of the most interesting facets of their relationship is how their bond culminates in betrayal. I’m personally quite interested in the fact that Gojou killed Getou despite loving him, after sparing him for eleven years because of the very same love. It’s not like Getou was ever harmless—he was a special-grade curse user, not the kind of threat you want running around. His cult activities and killings weren’t exactly subtle either. That angle—the fact that love makes Gojou turn a blind eye to Getou’s actions until he crosses a line even Gojou can’t abide—is very, very interesting to me as someone quite obsessed with Gojou’s characterization. People who have an equivalent interest in Getou would find plenty there to peel apart, probably. The two of them together would also offer rich, nuanced grounds for exploration, and I’m sure there are people doing just that.

But fandom spaces as a whole have become exceptionally sanitized recently. I’m not talking about people who generally simply prefer fluff and write that regardless of canon dynamics; there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re all allowed our self-indulgent tastes. But what you’ve described—a tendency to erase characters’ dark or grey morality, to think along black-and-white lines that put people into neat little boxes, to remove unsavory or unhealthy elements from relationships—has been plaguing fandoms more and more, especially fandoms with a large number of young(er) fans. JJK is definitely one of those.

I’ve seen similar takes on a lot of JJK ships as well as platonic relationships, like goyuu shippers asking why fic authors write Gojou as predatory toward Yuuji in canon settings with their canon ages (yeah, a real mystery why a 28 y/o romancing/fucking a 15 y/o would be written as predatory) and dad!Gojou truthers earnestly arguing that Gojou has paternal feelings toward Megumi (or Yuuji or his students in general) and is also such a good dad. I’ve seen it with even sukugo and tojigo, in the brief days before both wound up on my blacklist.

Basically, it’s a fandom-wide issue in the English-speaking JJK sphere (I’m sure the Eastern side and other language/region-specific sides have their own debates and issues, but I’m unfamiliar with those), and because satosugu is the biggest ship in this sphere, it has a significantly larger number of voices making themselves heard—as well as a significantly larger number of nuance-allergic dumbasses making themselves heard. The latter tends to be so fucking loud, often drowning out the other voices. It can feel inescapable, even with filters and shit.

[worshipme]

he pets the dog until yaz is telling him where he can find the treats. he follows the motion of her head and hums in acknowledgement. "yeah sounds good." he tells her. he gives tofi one last pat before he makes his way to the cabinet she pointed out for him. but then a specific part of her words finally clicks in his head. "wait, you got her treats? now i feel bad, i didn't get tofi anything. i'll make it up to him the next time i come over, for sure."

he opens up the cabinet and pulls out the treats he sees. "oh, sock is gonna love these. it's like you already know her exact taste." he tells her while he observes the bag of cat treats while he shuts the cabinet. he opens up the bag of dog treats and makes his way back over to yaz and tofi, taking one out and offering it out for tofi to take.

he shuts the bag and holds the treats in one hand. he wraps his other arm around yaz's waist and his hand rests on her hip - he truly meant it when he said he was stuck on her like glue. "you ready to go?" he asks her.

tyler's the one to lead the way out this time, and he waits for her to lock her door before making the short walk to the next door over. he unlocks his door and pushes it open, calling out into the room, "socksock! i'm- oh there you are!" his cat was already sitting up on his couch and facing the door, as if she was waiting for him. immediately, her meows fill the room as she makes her way over to tyler.

but she stops in her tracks when she realizes that there's others with him, and at first she's cautious. tyler crouches down and encourages yaz to do the same. "here, let's crouch. and hold tofi for now, let socksock come to us." he tells yaz, just as socksock begins her hesitant slow steps towards them.

eventually, socksock is right in front of them and after a brief rub against tyler's legs with a purr, she's standing in front of yaz and carefully sniffing her. "socksock, this is yaz. papa's friend. remember, i told you about her. and this is tofi, he's-" tyler's coos are cut off by socksock staring wide eyed at tofi, almost as if she couldn't believe there was a dog in her house. her reaction has tyler giggling. "okay yaz, i think tofi can go down now. i think socksock's having a hard time realizing he's not a plushy."

who: tyler && yaz ! [ @itsyazmin ]

where: nyc

there were times when tyler’s felt like the entire world was against him and today certainly felt like one of those days. he had woken up later than he normally would on a sunday because he had trouble sleeping the night before. that caused him to miss out on breakfast just so that he could make it to mass on time (there was nothing he hated more than arriving late to mass and having everyone take a peek at who had entered in late because the door was squeaky and loud). but the most terrifying fact of all: he was going to tell yaz today.

he stands in front of his mirror and adjusts the sleeves of his button-up before smoothing the fabric out. he knows the odds weren’t looking good for him. she was going on casual dates with others and had even called their friendship cordial. whatever he was going to say today would ruin that, but he’d rather see his feelings through than letting them fade into oblivion with the ‘what if’ lurking in the air. tyler runs his hands through his hair before going between taking his glasses off, putting them back on, taking them off again… before he finally settles on keeping them on. there wasn’t time for him to fuss about getting his contacts in, and frankly, he thinks the glasses are the selling point of his “sunday’s best” fit.

“okay socksock, remember what i said for later today.” he tells his cat who has been sitting at his feet patiently. “best behavior… i really like this girl. i don’t wanna ruin it if god blesses me today and answers my prayer.” he fixes his collar one last time, pats down the pockets of his slacks to make sure he’s got everything else he needs, and then lets out a sigh. tyler crouches down and scratches right under socksock’s chin. “wish me luck.” he whispers to her, leaving her with a peck on top of her head before he’s standing back up straight. tyler heads for the front door and makes sure to grab his leather jacket hanging up on the coat rack.. in case yaz gets cold.

then, tyler’s standing outside of yaz’s door and feels a chill even though he’s currently wearing the jacket. what if today was the last time they’d hang out like this because his feelings would ruin it? he gulps. but what if today was the start of something new? that thought is enough for him to ring the doorbell and wait patiently for her. whichever it was, that wouldn’t stop tyler from having fun today. they were going to get food, then have their furbabies meet… then he’d tell her. yeah… that’s the plan.

[martyrbat]

habeas corpus – detective comics #1086

(ID in alt!)

[edge-oftheworld]

if your fave says that someone makes them happy btw. the least you can do is believe them. if they say that they feel safe and a bit calmer and they’re getting a chance to heal. you gotta respect that. even if you have your own concerns and reasons not to be happy about it, in the end it’s their well-being and they have a right to live and to tell their own story however they choose. and if you refuse to believe basic evidence that’s right in front of you, you don’t deserve to scrutinise their life or who they have in it.

[kikizoshi]

Not to mention the whole Puppet heavily psychologically abusing TEAPS!Sun thing. Because she thought she was right. In her mind, Sun needed to get over his agoraphobia and fear of Moon, so forcing him out of the Daycare by triggering his cleaning issues, then having absolutely no empathy as he's cowering from shadows and crying/screaming on the floor because he's so scared... is just fine, to her. Yes, Sun wasn't being fair, but showing no empathy whatsoever? And then forcing the issue when she just learned from her mistake that she admitted to with TSAMS!Sun, trying to force him to choose.

AND THE "YOU'RE GONNA DIE IF YOU DON'T CHOOSE TO SHARE" THING OH MY GOD. That whole interaction was so, so hard to watch. Literally psychological torture at that point, on an animatronic who might as well have been a child. I'd say it's like she learned nothing from TSAMS!Sun's situation, except that she openly acknowledged and took responsibility for handling that situation poorly and pushing Sun too far, which just shows me that somehow she can perceive her failures but not learn from them. 'Cause the dilemma she insisted on with EAPS!Sun & Moon was so much worse. (I still wish she and Eclipse had experienced real, lasting repercussions for that.)

And seeing Eclipse there, acting in the same way because of course he is, traumatising and brute-forcing people into submission has literally always been him M.O., but he just started learning better habits with Earth, and so to set the tone for the next chapter in his life with the person who wants to help him get better egging him on to horrifically abuse Sun? It was just a stomach-drop moment of, oh, nothing's really changed, has it? Eclipse still doesn't have the opportunity of good role models. He still doesn't have anyone showing him a healthy way to act.

It really feels like Puppet gets into this pattern where she decides that someone needs to change, how they need to change, what they need to do to change... and then gets upset at them when they don't comply and it doesn't work perfectly immediately. And she doesn't learn that people don't work that way, no matter how many times it blows up in her face (which isn't a complaint with the writers, I'm just upset at the character).

There's just... a fundamental disconnect with Puppet. There always has been. She tries, but I think maybe she doesn't fully know how to empathise with people. Something doesn't compute. Which sucks, 'cause then how do you help someone like Eclipse, who struggles with empathy, when you yourself don't know much about it? (Though, I'd say Eclipse struggles more with expressing/acknowledging empathy than feeling it, whereas Puppet seems the opposite.)

On a non-Eclipse note though too, I felt all the way back in the Monty and Puppet Podcast episodes how unempathetic she could be. Like, she's marginally better than Monty (though the bar is in Tartarus there) in that she actually somewhat cares whether the guests have read and agreed to the consent form. But that doesn't stop her from putting up the episodes, and as much as she apologises after the fact, she never starts holding Monty accountable to actually make them read it (I'm aware this is a bit, but that doesn't change the literal interpretation of her actions). Also, I know it's a bit, I get that, but playing Lunar's own death for him, repeatedly, after he asked her to stop, repeatedly, is such a callously cruel thing to do. And she plays it for a bit, like it wasn't one of the most traumatic things to happen to Lunar. And she laughed. Because it's funny to her. That always rubbed me the wrong way; her entire demeanour in the podcast episodes does, really.

OKAY SO IM NOT THE ONLY PUPPET HATER?? THANK THE GODSSS ITS SO RARE TO FIND REASONABLE HATE ON PUPPET

I NEED THAT WOMAN DIVORCED!!!!!!

ALL LOVE / NO HATE

Actor of puppet, you’re wonderful. Love you, love your acting, love your lore, BUT I NEED PUPPET OUT OF ECLIPSE’S LIFE BEFORE HIM OR I CRASH OUT. /SILLY /NSRS

Look…it’s expected for me to hate on everyone because…sigh…I’m an eclipse kinnie…I gotta hate everyone…it’s…it’s my…my OBLIGATION, if you will…

no, I have genuine reasons and actual arguments for every character I love, and every character I hate. I think that Puppet is just very emotionally close minded like 80% of the characters despite trying to be sympathetic to Eclipse. She’s trying, she is, but like…girl please…this ain’t how you do it…

I also genuinely haven’t looked at her previous lore or anything, so I can’t say I’m 🤓☝️ “super educated” or anything as I am with Eclipse. However, based off all that I’ve seen in TEAPS, I simply have not been given a reason to like her for any reason. Sure, she’s /trying/ to help Eclipse which is MORE than ANYONE ELSE IS DOING, but at the same time she’s being slightly harmful to him.

WHICH, YEAH, IT’S FUCKING /ROUGH/ TO DEAL WITH THAT MAN

But the way she problem solves and tries to help is just generally problematic and headache inducing. Like…

puppet…if…you’re trying to get someone to participate in games…DON’T. INVITE. THE PEOPLE. THAT HE HARMED, OR GOT HARMED BY.

I FEEEEEL LIKE THAT’S COMMON SENSE.

IS THAT…NOT…COMMON SENSE????

Of course, out of character, looking at the writers and VA’s, they could’ve just really wanted them to play games together. Fair. Reasonable. But I’m looking at them IN CHARACTER. And in character…Puppet kinda sucks.

Bwomp! :(

[brainrotzora]

these things are always happening to the ones i like :////////

anyways the lighting in this dungeon is so nice

didn't get any good pics bc i was too busy dungeoning but so pretty...best dungeon music so far goes to snowcloak though btw

[camellia-thea]

initially this post had some commentary about interests right now. and then it turned into a ramble about personal healing in the tags. so the interest post is going separately.

[t4tpumpkinduo]

man.

[nezuscribe]

gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.

he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.

and you’re oblivious to it.

you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.

you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.

you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.

eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.

one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.

it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.

he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.

you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.

you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.

“didn’t know i had an audience,”

you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.

you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.

“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”

he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.

“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”

my wife.

the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?

you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.

“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.

“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”

you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.

“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.

“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”

you stare at him, unblinking.

“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.

you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.

“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.

you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.

“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?

“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.

“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.

this entire time you’ve been alone?

he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.

“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.

gojo stares at you, unblinking.

“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.

you can’t either.

he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.

maybe you were just walking around, like you said.

[pa-pa-plasma]

wait so you're telling me this whole time i could've just said "stop being racist" & racism (at least among white people) would instantly disappear? why didn't i think of this sooner

[beeseverywhen]

Not in the US so can't speak for what's happening there, but I've def noticed here that healthcare workers are struggling with dealing with sicker patients than they felt they were getting before covid and lots of them are mentioning a lack of immunity thanks to lockdowns. every time I hear it I can't help but think that the increasing desperation thanks to years of underfunding that's really beginning to have an impact since covid (because the pandemic served as the last straw on the camels back there AND because it showed our government that they could neglect the vulnerable to the degree that they were dying by the thousands and still nobody bothered to blame them.) Is a contributing factor in this and I don't understand why nobody is mentioning it???

We're getting sick because we've spent decades being bled dry and now we're hungry, stressed and being worked to the bone. Meanwhile we aren't getting any kind of return on the money we're pumping in to the healthcare system and our governments aren't doing shit to address health inequalities or any of the factors contributing to everyone's poor health.

If you look at covid death statistics, if you look at which countries are currently suffering from supply problems; a job market bursting with unfilled vacancies, civil unrest and protests, strained healthcare systems, and all the rest; the countries at the top are those that have allowed capitalism to call the shots for the past century, more than the rest. That is why the UK and America have been so badly impacted. Its no accident that we are paying so heavily, this system started with us. We forced it on the rest of the world and now, we're the first to pay the price. There is a direct correlation between the impact being felt post covid and a countries wealth divide and I'm tired of everyone ignoring that.

I look around me and People are going hungry, the food they can afford to buy is lacking in basic nutrients, of course people are sicker! Even if you can afford them, the shops keep running out of vegetables! Our health system was already breaking and then, we were hit by a pandemic it was completely unprepared for (tho it should have been) and now, people are getting way more ill than they need to before they finally reach hospital. When they get there, the hospitals are understaffed (thanks to years of underfunded budgets and the extreme stress so many health care workers were put under), we keep having drug shortages because our country keep straight up refusing to pay how much things cost, and what they are willing to pay, goes to pay about ten profiteering middle men at each stage of the supply chain.

People are massively stressed thanks to the cumulative weight of a completely broken capitalist system and those in charge are more worried about lining their pockets for as long as they can until the whole thing collapses, rather than actually trying to address any problems. Stress IS something that's known to weaken immune systems so why are we blaming something that MAY affect them??? Extreme rises in energy costs have meant everyone's spent a winter without adequate heating (even those that can afford it are revolting at the increase and so are trying to cut costs by using less energy.) Again, insufficiently heated homes are also known to affect immunity. And that's just the people who still have safe homes! Masses of people have been made homeless recently thanks to rising rents and mortgages which were already unaffordable, our housing stock is largely dangerous, with homes falling in to disrepair because landlords are barely regulated and when they do break laws they go unprotected.

Is anyone surprised that so many people are getting so ill and not getting better? Cause I'm not.

It's startlingly obvious when you start looking at the health divide between those who have spent 40 years subject to the whims of poorly restricted capitalism and those able to opt out. Medical technology is improving, but healthy life expectancy is now dropping year on year, because there are more people living here without the capital to turn away from jobs that will break them, than there are those whose inherited wealth opens doors away from employers that'll ask you to pay the price of bodily health, so they might strengthen profit margins. Its just basic averages. 1% of our citizens are standing on the backs of 99% of us and wondering why more and more of that 99% are getting sicker and sicker. The labour market for working class people has been allowed to drain its workers dry for years now. The progress made in the early to mid 20th century has slowly been worn away at, with the labour laws we fought for, only being accessible for an ever decreasing number of people. The laws are still in place but no low wage employer bothers to follow them any more than they have to. Do you know how many people I know who've been working without breaks, going unpaid for extra hours, been forced to follow unsafe working practices that they know are illegal and then being forced to lie to protect the employer that put them in that position? The people being broken by companies raking in billions, as they flaunt labour laws, don't have any means to access justice! If you complain, you lose your job. If you take them to court that costs money and that company is willing to drag out proceedings for years till you run out of the money needed to keep things going.

When i look at how much money is being wasted in government budgets, while the people responsible for making that money, see little return; I can't help but think of various theories for why certain societies in history have collapsed. (If you want to be really worried about the state of things, read the Wikipedia page on societal collapse. Spoiler: most of the potential causes of societal collapse have already begun in America and the UK. That guy who wrote that article saying America was already past the point of collapse might have been right.) One theory behind the bronze age collapse is just that... societies became too complex. A society where the 1% are given too much power over the 99% becomes one great big pyramid scheme. Unnecessary burecracy at every level (designed to squeeze as much wealth possible for the person overseeing that level) results in those at the bottom, working themselves to death and still going hungry. The theory goes that there comes a point, in societies like that, where the workers look at how they are living and just...walk away. They decide that the security once offered by that society isn't worth what it's costing them and fuck off to become farmers, preferring a life of hard work and little security, to what they had been living. Without the workers, the system breaks down. The only people getting fed are the ones growing the food. All this stupid stratification. Allowing every supply chain, business and institution to become unnecessarily complex just so on each level the people in charge can let their mates get a foot in on the profits. All these middlemen. Business consultants. Supply chains allow for a product to be sent back and forth from country to country just so more people get a cut. Its no different to any other pyramid scheme so why the hell are we allowing it.

We need to start telling our politicians to show some goddamn accountability for this shit. Stop accepting them skirting responsibility for being at best: Inept and at worst deliberately negligent. We all need to stop supporting a system that's hurting us all. In the hope that we might be one of the lucky ones. That's not the reality of things. We'll only get out of this hole we've inadvertently dug ourselves in to, if we stop fighting each other and work together to demand change.

You know how sometimes you catch someone in a lie, and so they tell an even bigger lie to try and cover up the first lie they told?

Well, that’s happening right now.

Last winter, a handful of celebrity doctors went on mainstream news networks to assure us that Omicron was “mild.” They carpet-bombed us with articles and tweets, doing their best to brainwash everyone.

They were wrong.

In the end, real science junked that idea. An article in the Journal of the American Medical Association showed that Omicron killed more people than previous variants, even when adjusting for other factors. Another study by doctors at Massachusetts General and Harvard Medical found that Omicron was just as deadly. In fact, “the risks of hospitalization and mortality were nearly identical.” As it turns out, the entire idea of “mild” Omicron was based on an old, flawed idea known as the law of declining virulence, developed by a doctor who was studying tick-borne disease in cows. It was debunked decades ago.

Most epidemiologists know that viruses don’t magically evolve to become milder. Virus evolution is random and chaotic.

In some cases, viruses evolve to become more deadly.

A handful of actual scientists tried to explain all this last winter, including disease experts at Johns Hopkins. A handful of other established experts spoke out against this myth. As a microbiologist at Penn State told Politifact, “You can’t just say it’s going to become nicer.” They were largely ignored, because everyone already sort of believed the misinformation. If they knew it was based on a study about cows, they probably would’ve thought twice.

This year, the makers of “it’s mild” are back.

They’re selling “immunity debt.”

We should be skeptical.

Schools and daycares are sending letters home to parents talking about this “immunity debt.” They’re saying that healthy children are getting sicker, even dying, because they weren’t exposed to enough germs over the last two years. Newspapers and TV stations across the country are running with it, proposing it as a “possible reason” for this year’s explosion in pediatric hospitalizations. Meanwhile, major medical organizations have sent a letter to President Biden urging him to declare an emergency over an “alarming surge of pediatric hospitalizations” due to a range of respiratory viruses, including Covid.

A lot of people are drinking the “immunity debt” kool-aid.

After all, Americans have believed for generations that getting sick is “good for you.” We think our immune system behaves like a muscle. We worry that if we’re not giving it a workout, we’ll get weak.

It’s a myth, just like the law of declining virulence.

Here’s why.