#but understand that centralized will never be weird

[chanaleah]

today i got four different gazan go-fund me asks. which is kind of weird, considering I haven't gotten any for a few weeks.

but I don't understand two things.

first, who in the world looks at my blog (zionist, bring them home now, etc) and thinks "now that is a person who's going to donate to my gofundme." like are there not thousands of people on this site who are advertising themselves to be incredibly more pro-palestine and thus more willing?

also, I donate to charities, not random people whom I've never met nor interacted with asking me via tumblr to donate to them. because the fact of the matter is that I have no idea who you are. I don't donate to random people in my ask box.

i'm not completely convinced that every single gofundme is a scam. I'm sure there are people out there running gofundmes for their families in gaza to help them get out or get care they need. but I don't know who they are, and I can't say that I trust the so-called "verification" from other random people I've never met. I'm not willing to take the risk that the money may be going to helping Hamas build more rockets to send towards Israeli civilians or to some dude in a basement in Ohio.

so this Chanukah, I'll be donating to World Central Kitchen, HEAL Palestine, and ANERA - organizations I hope are actually making a difference for Gazan civilians.

[emeryleewho]

People on here are always like "fuck capitalism, why can't things be weird anymore" and then write up a whole dissertation about how the biggest IPs need to change to be weirder.

Like, you are so close. You are so close to getting the point. "Big" IPs *can only exist because they are normal*. They will *never* be weird. They will *never* do what you want. Go find some smaller IPs. Bring back discovery. Bring back never having heard of a book before you buy it. Bring back watching obscure anime online that none of your friends know about. Bring back trying new things, even if they're bad or cheaply made. That is how you get *weird*.

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—��� to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[llycaons]

writing under ‘cons’ for a fic: wwx is too normal :/

[qqueenofhades]

i registered to vote for the first time ( i feel old) now that im an adult but my state has closed primary elections which i was wondering if you have an opinion about. my initial thought was that its bad because i had to register democrat (rather than my states green party which represents my beliefs more) just so i could vote between democrat candidates, which feels like being pressured into supporting the weird pseudo two party system we have. but then i looked it up and apparently a reason for this is so that people from opposing parties wont purposefully mess up the votes just so that their preferred candidates have an easier time winning, and i think that makes sense too. but is that actually the reason theyve closed it or is it just to force us dem/republican?? cause it feels strange

Okay, look. I respect the fact that you're a young person, and I appreciate that you have not only registered to vote, but plan to vote in the primaries, so I don't want to lecture you too much. That said: I am taking you out for coffee, I am sitting you down, I am looking into your eyes, and I am urgently telling you the following:

The Green Party is a scam. It is a scam. It has existed for decades in American politics as an empty shell corporation weaponizing the good intentions of young people like yourself, because all it theoretically stands for "it's good to save the planet maybe." Which is not something that any non-insane person seriously disagrees with, but there is no world in which that cause is actually furthered by registering/voting Green (you mentioned that you did vote for Democrats, which -- good, but listen to me here, youngun, okay?) It ran Jill Stein in 2016 to siphon more votes from HRC, and this election it plans to run Cornel West, a pro-Russian tankie who positively equated Bernie and Trump, as another spoiler candidate. It does not stand for "protecting the planet" or America in any real way. It has never elected a single senator or congressman, let alone a president. It stands for empty performance/grievance political theater by those people who feel too morally superior to vote for/affiliate with Democrats, often because the internet has told them that it's not Cool or Hip or Progressive enough.

If your main priority is climate/the environment, you're doing the right thing by registering as a Democrat and voting for Democrats. (Also: the adjectival form is Democratic. It is the Democratic party and Democratic candidates, otherwise you sound like the Fox News host who wrote a book literally entitled "The Democrat Party Hates America.") They are the only major party who has in fact passed major climate legislation and have made environmental justice a central tenet of their platform. As opposed to the Republicans, whose Project 2025, along with the rest of its nightmare fascist prescriptions, openly pledges to completely wreck existing climate protections and forbid any new ones, just because we weren't all dying fast enough under their death-cult rule already. That's the main logical fallacy I don't get among both the Online Leftists and the American electorate in general: "the Democrats aren't doing quite enough as I'd like, so I'll enable the active wrecking ball insane lunatics to get in power and ruin even the progress we HAVE managed to make!" Like. How does that even make sense?

On a federal level, the Greens have contributed nothing whatsoever of tangible value to American or international climate policy/legislation, environmental justice, or anything else, because as noted, they don't have any elected candidates and mostly focus on drawing voters away from Democrats. There might be plenty of good candidates on the local or city level, which -- great! Vote away for Greens if they're available, or the only other option is a Republican! But on the federal/primary level, please understand: once again, they are a scam. There is no point in affiliating yourself with them. You're welcome to register Green and vote Democratic, if that makes you feel better or if you prefer having another label next to your name, but once again, I'm telling you in my position as a salty Tumblr elder that they have done nothing but harm to the causes they claim to care about, because "environment" is such a nebulous priority and has demonstrably been hijacked to stop the American government entity, i.e. the Democrats, that is actually working to improve on it.

As for your question: nobody is "forcing" or "pressuring" you to vote in primaries. By your own admission, you made a conscious choice to register as a Democrat in order to vote for Democratic candidates. If you were just a regular registered voter of whatever party affiliation, you would vote in the general election for whatever candidate the primary process produced. But if you are sufficiently vested and committed to that process that you would like to have a say in who is running under that party label, it is not unreasonable that you would register as a member of that party. Nobody has twisted your arm behind your back and made you do so; you are taking a considerable level of initiative on your own. Likewise, open primaries can be both a good and bad thing. This falls under the "the political system we have is flawed, but we can't magically pretend it doesn't exist and act according to our own fantasyland versions of reality" thing that I keep saying over and over. So yes, if you want a role in shaping the Democratic candidates who emerge from a Democratic primary process, you will usually register as a Democrat, and nobody has forced you to do that. It's that simple.

Likewise as a general programming note: I'm trying to cut back on politics a bit right now, because I don't have the spoons/bandwidth/mental health to deal with it. I apologize. So if you've sent me a politics-related ask recently and haven't received a response, I'm not deliberately or maliciously ignoring you; I just am not able to handle it as much as usual and will have to put it on pause. However, I feel as if this is important enough to be worth saying, so, yeah.

[marvelandponder]

one amazing thing about the Owl House finale is that it finally contextualized for me one of the central metaphors of the show. Spoilers for the series finale Watching and Dreaming ahead.

we good? no one spoiling themselves? beauty

for a long time now, I thought we had a pretty standard coming-of-age metaphor dichotomized by the show's central antagonists. you've got your protestant witch hunter Belos who introduces a maturity and ugliness to Luz's narrative; he clearly represents a particular, restricting form of adulthood, and just when Belos becomes his most threatening, boom, enter the Collector, Luz's dangerously naïve inner child to ruin all her development on the Boiling Isles. Seems simple enough

what I didn't anticipate was just how specific and personal their roles in the story actually are to Luz once you have the full context from the series finale

look again

this story - this whole series - is about the grief that a neurodivergent kid experienced at a young age, introducing the cruelty of loss and adulthood before she was ready to handle it. and, how to reclaim a more whole understanding of herself as she rebuilds her life with people who get her

Belos is designed to infect the titan carcass like a disease. a cancer. it's super goddamn significant that the titan is King's dad (King, who became Luz's younger brother). they set up Belos not just to be another fascist kids' cartoon villain (although yeah, he do be doing some of that), but to specifically become a force that oppressed the weirdness from the one place that understood Luz. the Iles. the dad. And by the end of the story, Belos's goopy body-horror isn't just for show, he's just like the cancer or other terminal disease that took Luz's dad from her

he's the thing Luz hasn't processed in season 1 that comes in at the end like a warning. he's the threat that forces Luz to grapple with her own humanity, feeling somehow (often completely unjustifiably) harmful to those around her, through the grief she doesn't want to be a burden or the weirdness (neurodivergence) others don't understand. he's the force that says there is something wrong with you, Luz, give in to your grief, this is what you can't face. this is the lie you've been telling to those closest to you: that you're okay

then you have the Collector. (notable that he's a collector, and we see Luz's mom and dad had quite the collection of nerdy memorabilia)

the Collector is the child too young to understand death. Too young to understand consequences, or why their playmates don't feel like playing anymore with someone so weird and maybe a bit too involved in their own world. The Collector is Luz's inner child, that kid we see right before the "worst week ever" — the one who didn't and couldn't understand what was about to happen even as it was going down. unapologetically weird, a bit destructive and short-sighted, but wholly colourful, wholly themselves. that's why the Collector wants to live out Luz's adventures, but without all the depth. just the fun escapist fantasy

but don't think I forgot the internal conflict! :D

because Camila's role also gets an added depth too: Camila was framed at the outset of the series as someone who loved Luz, but wanted her to fit inside a box that she just didn't. later, Luz completely misconstrued her mom's breakdown when she learned that Luz chose to run away. as many people have pointed out by now, Luz misremembers the actual dialogue that Camila says: Camila only wanted her daughter safe, not to lose her. Luz meanwhile felt like she had to choose to destroy this part of herself, or give up her connection with her mom altogether

but we know now Camila actually deeply relates to Luz. she may not understand Luz's fascination with horrific things like on the boiling isles (very akin to a kid getting more grim hobbies in the wake of a death, like Luz's taxidermy), but she loves Luz for who she is. all of her. she never wanted Luz to change

Luz was the one framing the central conflict of the show as go back to her mom or stay in the boiling isles. Luz was the one who felt like she had to punish herself by rejecting the one place where she felt like herself. once Camila realizes what's been going on, and how deeply connected it is to the loss of Luz's dad, she knows Luz is trying to make a "very bad choice for herself." And she won't let that happen (what a great mom!!)

But Luz does have one real choice ahead of her

because of the inner child who once again has to confront death (this time, Luz's own), Luz is able to connect with a father figure, the titan, the one place she feels understood. in the form of a power-up that makes her into a fantasy witch straight out of the Good Witch Azura, the one place she got joy after that huge loss, the titan gives her the strength to face the cancer—a force draining everything good in her life from her and making her question she deserves it in the first place—but only if she can choose herself

and that means choosing happiness, choosing found family, choosing love and friendship and self-discovery in the place she feels most at home! every bond she's forged, everything she's worked for, it all comes down to choosing to face grief and move on in life with weirdos who stick together.

hoot hoot, that's some good metaphor

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[headspace-hotel]

I've been reading a lot of articles trying to understand how the ranges of various plants expanded and contracted throughout the glacial and interglacial periods,

and it sucks, it SUCKS that we just cannot know about ecosystems in the distant past with the same amount of detail as today's ecosystems!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED TO KNOW WHAT KENTUCKY WAS LIKE IN THE UPPER MIOCENE. BITING CLAWING KILLING DYING

I've been reading about palynology which is the STUDY of POLLEN, so different plants have very different looking pollen grains so if you get some mud from a sediment layer from 11,000 years ago and look at it under a microscope you can see what plants were dominant in the area and therefore how the ecosystem was different

ONE PROBLEM: Only the especially numerous plants will be easily detected this way, and it is rare for insect-pollinated plants to have detectable records in sediments like this, because pollen made to be carried by insects, doesn't blow away in the air and end up in mud the way wind-pollinated plant pollen does.

TWO PROBLEM, ACTUALLY: Pollen grains aren't that different between individual species, you could only say "This is an oak" or "This is a ragweed" and probably can't detect which kind specifically.

So there could have been all sorts of crazy herbs and trees that we would NEVER KNOW about because they were not very numerous, they were insect pollinated (80% of plant species are insect pollinated!) or they are closely related enough to a species we DO know, that the pollen is indistinguishable.

The quality of data on actual plant fossil records in Southeastern USA is kinda shit for some reason. I've read papers about it where the scientists are trying to make sense of the data and they're like "This paper from 1979 says this species of walnut was found in Tennessee, but we think it's full of shit because the fossil was just a tiny chip of bark" or something like that.

Compared with the rest of North America, we know next to nothing about the prehistory and the Pleistocene environment of the Southeast, I guess because it's so warm, humid and wet, everything rots away super quick.

Which is PAINFUL because the Southeast is the most biodiverse part of North America, and the ranges occupied by various plants suggest some wEIRD SHIT was happening.

There are ~100 genera that have one species that lives in SE USA and a sister species that lives in SE Asia,

and furthermore, there are several species that are found in SE USA but ALSO found high up in the cloud forests of Central America, in a totally different habitat that just happens to be hospitable temperature wise.

There are tons of plant species found EXCLUSIVELY in Florida and nowhere else on Earth. There are also loads of plant species found only in the highest peaks of the Appalachian Mountains. And there's a bunch of species that are found only in random speckle-like patches in various places, like how did it get HERE and then all the way over THERE 200 miles away with none in between?!?!

[inkdrinkerworld]

Inn Love Chapter 3

one two

cw: money issue talks, feelings of failure, james and reader being in love and idiots, a little angst (?) friends to lovers

wc: 2.6

“It’s not looking good,” you mutter to Mary, head in your hands as you go over the accounts one more time. 

“It’s the off season, we’ll find something else to do.” 

She’s too kind, too understanding. You wish she’d blow up at you and quit for not being able to pay her on time. 

You sigh, long and hard. You have to figure it out. The Secret Garden is your baby, and even though this is your second year owning it, you’ve still not figured out how to supplement the off season so you make a profit. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to. 

“We might have to. How do you feel about starting up line dancing lessons for a little bit? Just until I figure it out?” 

Mary grins, nodding her head. “I’ve missed it some. Won’t exactly be hard to get back into.” 

Mary’s the best worker you have. The only one you have really, but she’s still the best. 

You close up your books, and double check that all the rooms have been checked out of and begin locking up. 

James is waiting for you on your front steps, hat tipped low as he leans against one of the beams. 

“Hey Jamie, didn’t know you were stopping by.” 

You try for chipper, a smile in your voice as you hold your tote bag on your shoulder. 

“Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

You pause, reaching right in front of him. It’s instant, the way a frown fights for the space of your smile. It’s also instant the way James notices. 

“What’s wrong?” He takes your bag from you, leading you to his truck. 

“Nothing. Where are we getting lunch?” 

James frowns a little bit, but doesn’t press. “Had Chinese dropped off to the house, got all your favourites.” 

You grin, James does this a lot and it makes your stomach flip every time. 

“Meet you there?” 

James frowns again, then shrugs. “Yeah, darling.” 

You double back to your own truck, James setting your bag in the bench seat. 

You watch James pull out first and take a moment to collect all your worry and all your anxiety and stuff it deep in your chest, burying it with a bit of hay before sighing. 

You can’t let James see you’re worried or anxious, he’ll sniff the information out of you and if you tell James then you’d have failed. 

The first year it was understandable, the second year; you’re not sure you could tell the person who helped you build the inn from the ground up that you’ve been having months of money troubles. 

You pull up behind James, sliding out of your car and racing him to the front door. 

“You still cheat.” he says with a smile, you shrug while pushing open the door. Inside James’ house, you’d think it was hot, all the southern heat trapped in the walls, but it’s always cool. 

He’d explained it to you once, the stone and wood kept it cool, but also he had put in a central air con to maintain the chill. 

“I got shorter legs than you James, it’d never be fair.” 

James shakes his head, following you to his dining table where all the boxes are already laid out. 

“How much noodles am I allowed?” James rolls his eyes. You always eat most of it and he always gets you your own box because why deprive you of your favourite thing?

James doesn’t think there’s actually anything he could deprive you of. 

“Does lack of sleep mess with your memory?”

You grin when he passes you an entire box, and then the rest of what you usually like.

As you eat, the talking kind of subsides, which is weird by yours and James’ standards.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” He asks when you migrate to the living room, laying out long on his sofa while he sits with your feet in his lap. 

“What do you mean, Jamie?” You try hard not to stiffen your body as you respond. 

He sighs, hands squeezing the arches of your feet. “I dunno, something feels wrong. Like you feel down.” 

God you could cry right now. James has always been in tune to you like this, as you are with him, but it sometimes gets to be too much because lying to your best friend hurts. Especially when he can tell something is off. 

“Just tired I guess.” you shrug one of your shoulders. James hums but doesn’t say anything and you feel guilt like a hot poker in your stomach. 

You wiggle your toes in his lap and his hands fall back to massaging them. 

“Wanna watch ‘How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days’?” 

James never has to ask twice. 

You don’t mean to, but you and James fall asleep right there on his sofa. Some time during the night you’ve shifted, he’s laying under you and your head is on part of his chest with your legs tangled up. 

The only reason you wake up is because James’ alarm is blaring and you’ve got the worst crick in your neck.

“Make it stop,” you grumble, hiding your face in his chest as he stretches. It’s comfortable even for friends, the way James holds onto your waist as he leans over you to grab his phone. 

“Shit, s’nearly four. You gotta go darling.” 

You’d lasted nearly a whole three minutes without thinking about the fact that The Secret Garden wasn’t doing well. 

Almost awkwardly, which is strange for you and James, you sit up. As you stretch all your joints crack and you sigh where James winces. He’s always hated how you can just crack your bones like that- he worries you’ll break them one day. 

“Nah I got the day off.” 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “So the TSG is closed today?” 

You wish your friend wouldn’t ask so many questions. Lying to him is hard work. 

“Mary’s running the morning shift today.” James looks a little sceptical but drops it, making his way to the stairs. 

“M’gonna get ready. You staying on the ranch then?” 

You nod, what else is there for you to do? Plus if you use your ‘day off’ to be anywhere but the ranch, say going job hunting or to the bank, your quiet little town will somehow have your going-ons back to James in no time. 

“Heat up breakfast and I’ll make us coffee.” James is back down in ten minutes, showered and changed into his wranglers, a thin white t-shirt and his work boots. 

You’re sure you’ve got yours around here somewhere.

James and you work like a well greased machine, making breakfast and coffee and doing the dishes all in one go. 

He tilts his head to the screen door in the kitchen that leads to his side porch.  

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me and then go round do some ranch chores?” 

“Still got my boots in the coat closet?” you ask and James rolls his eyes. 

“When has anything of yours left this house? You’re everywhere in here.” His gaze is too intense for you to laugh it off. It also makes you feel like you’ve caged race horses in your stomach and they’re butting their fences. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Jamie.” is all you can manage before going in search of your boots.

James doesn’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Honestly, he wishes there were more of you in his house; he’s just not sure if saying that to you will cost him everything. 

Shoving your feet into the boots you sigh, then take a peek out at the sky and shiver. “I’m taking a coat.”

“Take anything you want.” 

This is why you can’t tell James about your money troubles. He’s going to give you anything to turn it around, but you’re not sure if anything he can give will. You also can’t use him anymore than you already do. 

“Race you to the stables!” James takes off before you can even put down your empty mug. 

“You’re such a cheater!” You whine as you race behind him, his laugh floating back to you as you reach the stable doors. 

“Takes one to know one,” he says playfully, causing you to roll your eyes.

James holds the door open for you and as soon as you get in you head for Snowglobe. 

“My baby,”  you coo, already kissing the side of his face while James lets his own horse, Landslide, out.  

“You’d swear he wasn’t nearly twenty three.”

“Don’t remind me Jamie.” you grab a brush and go through the usual maintenance just as James does with his horse. 

“We’re riding up to the fences to check on the horses, then we’re feeding them.” James talks about his day like it’s easy, but you remember the hard work that goes into ranching. You’ve got your work cut out for you, and you’re not even doing the hard stuff like moving hay or any of that. 

“Lead the way, Cowboy.” 

After a couple hours, you go back to the big house and take a shower, well and truly exhausted. James wouldn’t let you haul hay, so you’d been feeding the animals, cleaning the stables and doing a bit of general cleaning up around the ranch while he and his farmhands mended parts of the fence, herded the cows and hauled the dried heaps of hay. 

By the time James comes in, you’re halfway through preparing dinner- beef stew. 

“I would’ve cooked after my shower, darling.” James says as he hangs up his hat and boots. 

“Yeah, but now by the time you come back down, we can eat together.” 

James frowns again, you’ve never been away from TSG for this long since it’s been opened and it’s worrying him that you won’t talk to him about it. 

If he’s honest, you haven’t gushed about the inn since you left it yesterday- which is very unlike you. That place is your pride and joy and everyone knows it. Especially James. 

He holds his tongue on his worry and nods. 

“I’ll be back in ten.” 

Through dinner, you’re on your phone, checking your accounts, trying to see where you can make more money or if you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to. 

After your sixth sigh in ten minutes, James sets his cutlery down and reaches a hand for you.

“Darling, I know you said it’s nothing, but it’s clearly not. Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Before you can answer, Sirius bursts through James’ house. 

“Did you see TSG’s been closed all day? Wonder if everything’s okay.” 

You freeze in your seat when James turns to you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 

Sirius coughs to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry doll face. But why are you closed? Is everything alright?” 

You can’t even be upset with Sirius because for all of his faults, he’s always concerned about you. He feels very much like an older brother in that way, even when he’s giving you shit. 

You rest your head on the table and sigh. 

“Don’t be upset Jamie,” you start, slow and more than a little nervous. You don’t know how you’ll feel if James is angry with you. You don’t want to feel like a failure to him. You don’t want to fail yourself even more. 

“I think I’m gonna have to close the inn.” 

Sirius gasps, James frowns. “Forever or for a while?” 

You lift your head, “For a while. I’m not sure how long. I’ve got to go over the account but we’re not making a profit right now.” 

“Darling,” he says at the same time Sirius swears. 

Tears spring in your eyes. “I know, it hasn’t been making profit or any sort of money for a couple months but I thought it would pick up again, but I guess late summer is not our season.” 

James stands quickly when your first tear falls and Sirius ruffles your head. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it happens. I can help you work through it.” You shake your head at James’ proposal. 

“You helped me start it up and I can’t even keep it running through the entire year. I can’t expect you to help me every year that I have a slow period.” 

Sirius tuts, “You could always sell your bakes in the off time, dollface.” 

James wipes your tears away, “I can still help. I don’t mind helping out.” 

You shake your head. Sirius seems to get it before James does, and what it is you’re trying to say. 

“No Jamie, I think maybe working on the ranch or doing a little baking on the side would be good. Right doll?” 

You nod, “I don’t wanna keep using you Jamie.” 

James tuts, tilting your chin up. Sirius takes his cue and goes into the kitchen, looking through James’ pantry. 

“You don’t use me. You’ve never used me.” It’s hard to argue with James when he speaks with such conviction but you know you have. 

“But I did. When I was opening up TSG, it was you helping me.” 

James smiles then, “Yeah I helped, darling. It was a mutual thing. We’re friends, of course I helped you. And I can help again, but if you want to do this part on your own, I’d get it.” 

James wipes your tears, gentle and sweet as ever. “I need to go do a final closing for the season and set some things in place, but can I stay here in the meantime?” You force the words out, soft and whispered against the space between you and James. 

“You can stay here as long as you like,” 

“Thanks Jamie.” 

He shrugs, dimple poking out in his cheek as he smiles at you. “You’re always welcome darling, c’mon I’ll drive you to TSG and help with lock up.” 

As it turns out, telling James you’d been struggling wasn’t that bad. It was hard and you’d felt like a failure for a little bit, but he talked good sense into you and now you’re staying with him till the start of autumn. 

“I can work the ranch, Jamie.” You proposed on your second night on his sofa. 

“You cannot work the entire ranch.” James wasn’t even being funny about it either. You really can’t. You get cut up easily and you blister worse than he does. 

“Okay, I can work the stables.” 

James rolls his eyes good naturedly, tossing a bit of popcorn at you. You’d both been watching a new horror that James had seen advertising. Watching is a generous word because you both talk through all the dull parts and you squeeze his fingers in anxiety during the freaky parts. 

“As opposed to?” 

You giggle, “Hey, I can work the garden or help milk the cows.” 

James chuckles then, his dimple on display making you want to poke your finger in it. “Same cows you’re afraid of? You can work the stables darling, you know your way around it.” 

You squeal, leaning up and closer to James to kiss his cheek. You love doing it because James goes red hot and can’t stop his flush. Even as kids he’d go beet red the minute you gave him a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re the best James. The best ever.” 

He grins, “I’m glad you finally noticed.” The pillow behind your head whacks him in the face as you groan. 

“That was yuck, don’t ever say that again.” James laughs through your disgust, slotting your pillow behind your back again and holding your feet in his lap as the horror builds. 

[kcokaine]

Hi sorry but people on twitter are saying you’re a nazi and I was just wondering if that was true??

Not only is this quite outrageous take on someone without like 0 actual proof. I can admit in the "proof"(the zionism thing which people mean as Nazism) people used against me was me at most being insensitive/ignorant which i already sincerely apologized for because i wasn't edjucated on the matter whatsoever. It was not right of me and I never repeated that after i found out about the truth of things.

But also this is ridiculous. I'm not american, I'm from a country that has been wartorn by nazis and communists. All my life I was taught about atrocities these two sides did to central europe and other countries. If you had a swastika tattooed on you here you would get literally arrested or killed on the street. But that isn't even an argument, that's just me stating how stupid and hypocritical it would be of anyone to support such things from the area i was raised in. I'm highly anti nazi, anti facist or anti anything that is even similar to that. I stand with civilians and innocent people that are being collateral damage to war and governments. Therefore I'm not a trump supporter, i was always left leaning i was always for rights. Hell I'm a bisexual woman, how could i ever support someone like Trump in my right mind?

I do not understand where this claim is absolutely coming from and i dont understand how people disregard the severity of saying this online with confidence. This is such a serious accusation that can ruin reputations unrightfully and just shows how people have no interest searching for more proof or anything before saying serious things because all they care about is drama and that the finger is not pointed at them in that moment. We as society got too comfortable about canceling and just saying anything, growing into complete parasocial relationship within each other. You are either no person to them, no human being or you are a glorified idea. Everyone is a person behind that screen and if they ever got over they pride and looked themselves in the core they would understand they also do mistakes and not everything is black and white.

I'm hurt by these accusations. This isn't anywhere close to calling someone names or weird for having odd preferences and stuff in fandoms. This is claiming that I support actual genocide, suffering of real people which is fucking awful. It makes me sad, deeply hurt. I'm not saying im better than anyone else, i dont need to be, I want this genocide to end same as anyone else would. I reflected, I took criticizm to heart and I'm now trying to truly do something with my following, i retweet donation links and donate to the charities with spare money i have.

The truth is, no matter what I say, it will never be enough for the people that just want to have moral highground, they act like they never made a mistake, like they were never ignorant in their life. I wonder how they would like it if someone took something terrible out of context and endlessly kept posting it on social media just to feel better without you having a proper chance to redeem yourself, always being seen as a "nazi" in some people's eyes because someone lied about you. It's sad and I'm sorry you keep seeing this lie about me. I think about it every day. And with this message I wanted to let you know what I truly feel and think. If you believe it is on you, but I'm finally putting my thoughts out there after months of thinking.

[thedream14]

I really love the idea of ​​Logan assuming that Wade has always been a mutant, only to find out in some random way that Wade was actually a “fail” experiment.

In his home universe, Wade Wilson was a human with extraordinary physical abilities and reflexes, but not a mutant. So, upon seeing his face for the first time in the Void, Logan automatically assumed that this variant of Wilson was definitely a mutant. Besides, it made sense that he wasn't a human. Deadpool could survive literally anything.

(superrrr Angst/Fluff stuff over here)

****

The prompt would go something like this:

One day, while walking through Central Park, they came across a small exhibition of mutant artists. This caught Logan's attention, as he has always openly supported any kind of mutant project.

Without explanation, he dragged Wade towards the exhibition. From the beginning, Logan could notice Wade's nervousness and discomfort. He had become strangely rigid in his movements and for once… He shut up voluntarily.

Feeling a little weird with his partner's attitude, Logan decided to get away from the crowd with Wade. Once in a more private place he asked:

- Ok… Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with ya, bub ?

- Ahhhh nothing, noopeee, nada !

- You know that I can tell that you are lying, right? Like literally I can Smell it all over you…

- Well… It's pointless really… like really dumb. You don’t have to worry about it…

- Quit the bullshit, mouth! If it was a “dumb” thing, you wouldn't be like this. You didn't even comment on one of the paintings with a fucking tennis ball on it

- Gagged ! No pun intended.

- You fucking idiot - Snikt!

- Ok ok relax !!! Pull the kitty claws away…

- I swear, I never thought I'd say this, but starts talking Wade…

- Ok, it's just that... I felt a little out of place. All those mutants… like everybody was happy and talking to each other, I don't know... It's not that I have anything against mutants, of course not, I support the cause. I fuck with all the equal rights for mutants and stuff… it's just that, I don't know... I felt like I shouldn't be there... Also, what if you were recognized, Peanut? Then your community would associate you with me and let's be honest, almost nobody wants that... Nobody wants to be seen with lil old Deadpool, imma right?

Logan is a man of few words. He has always kept control of his thoughts and actions. There are very few times when he decides to remain silent, simply because his mind has gone blank. This is one of those times.

- Hey !!! Earth calling Wolvie… are you okay? Holy shit I think I talked too much again… Look, I’m reeeeeeally sorry…

- What the actual Fuck…

- Excuse me… what?

- Like What the actual Fuck, Wade… I don’t understand. How can you feel out of place among your own people? And what is all that shit about me being seeing with you?

After Seeing his partner's worried face, Logan decided to be a little gentler with his words. He didn't want to close the opportunity of communication between them. Also, Logan didn’t want to make him feel even more insecure.

He really didn't understand the situation and wanted to know what’s going through his lover mind. Soooo with an extreme delicacy, he grabbed his partner's hand and with a sweet gesture, he commented:

- Ok… Princess, don’t worry. I just… want to understand you. Please walk me through it…

- I mean… If you ask that kindly - Respond Wade with a small smile. - Like I told you, I don’t feel welcome between mutants at all… Like the X-men didn’t want me close…

- Fuck the X-men! If they don't want you around, it doesn't mean that any other mutant will feel good in your company. I love your company. As mutants we have to watch our backs together…

- Wait wait wait… I truly loveeee all this sweet speech of yours, I truly am… but peanut… Their is a detail. I’m not a mutant… or at least, I wasn’t born as one… you knew that, right? Righttt ???

Again, mind blank. This is a record, Logan should treat Wade with an ice cream as a reward.

- Ok… Well, I guess you didn't know

- How?

- Excuse me, love… How what exactly?

- How you become one? I mean… you are saying that you aren’t a mutant. Then what happened?

- Ohhh Peanut, buckle up for a sappy Origen story !!!

To say that Logan was not prepared for the story would be an overstatement. He had no words to describe the pain that was crossing his heart.

Logan could empathize with Wade's suffering, but fail to assimilate the fear and hopelessness that Wade probably felt in those darker times. It’s not easy to accept the end of the road when you have loved ones around you.

- And like I told you, I'm not exactly welcome anywhere… I'm not human enough to be well regarded on the streets and I'm not mutant enough to play nice with the X-Men and their little joy club. It's not like I want to be with them either... They're all idiots who can kiss my disfigured fucking ass ... But I'd be lying if I told you I wouldn't like to belong somewhere... I don't like feeling lost, Logan. That’s why I take good care of my family… That’s why I try to take a good care of you…

- Wade… I…

- Nope, no words Peanut. It’s ok. I’m used to it. I… I just need time. Besides, I don't want to cause you any trouble. Like I said, I want you to be happy. I don't want any doors to be closed to you because of me. I would hate myself even more if you were excluded because of me. That's why I'm worried that you'll be seen with me in such a public way…. I love you and I want the best for you, Logan…

- Wade… This is too much… I

- Ohhhh I’m sorry… I don’t want to be overwhelming… I just…

- No… It’s not that… It’s too much to process… I… Wade, I love you… I truly love you. I’m not good with words, but I could tell you how much I love you and how much I love and crave your company. I don’t give a fuck about anybody else… I want you by my side all the time.

- Ohhh Peanut, it’s ok…

- No, it’s not ok. Stop it. It’s not ok what you been through. It’s not fucking ok how you being treated and I swear to god, it’s not ok how you been excluded by the people that was supposed to help you… So fuck it ! Fuck them ! Fuck all of them !!! We don’t need them, princess !!! We are better without them !

- Come Logan, don’t say that ! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you…

- No, Wade. Don’t ever lie to me about this things. We are partners, lovers, whatever you want to call us. We are together. If you are not welcome, neither I am.

With even a greater gentleness, Logan released Wade's hands to hold his face. His eyes were tearful with emotion.

At that moment, Logan remembered how beautiful the love of his life truly was. He also made a promise to himself, he would never let anyone hurt Wade again.

- I need you to engrave this inside your head my princess, I would never be ashamed of loving you. Of holding your hands, kissing your face and hugging your body. I will never regret chosen you !

Immediately, Logan ended that promise of love with a sweet and slow kiss.

Wade did not deserve to be an open secret. Wade was his mutant lover and no one could change that fact.

***

I was cooking this in my sleepless nights… I need to rest, but my insomnia is severe and F up…

I hope you liked this 🤯

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

The thing that really annoys me about the conspiracy theories going around (especially the Izzy-centric ones and especially That One Meta, iykyk) is the complete and utter lack not only of genre awareness but any realistic understanding of how OFMD operates.

If you actually watch the show, you should understand two things.

This is a rom-com. The central romance between Ed and Stede and comedy are therefore the two most core parts of the show, with Ed and Stede's romance taking priority over everything else. That's not to say OFMD doesn't have dark themes, it absolutely does; it's to say that comedy is always important to how the show is written, acted, and filmed. If the most obvious explanation for "what is this line/scenario trying to tell us?" is "it's funny," then that's clearly why the scenario is in the show.

This is not a subtle show. That's not to say it's a simple one; one thing I love about OFMD is all the background details and gags you only pick up on a rewatch. It's amazingly layered and emotional responses by characters are often extremely complex. However, when the show is trying to tell you something, it's not subtle and it never tries to hide it. The closest it ever gets is Ed in the gravy basket, and even then it's written so we find out the instant Ed does and we've already had clues to suspect something from how the mutineers are acting. If you're watching OFMD and thinking "hmm I wonder what they're trying to tell me here," you're probably doing something wrong.

That's why I'm so completely baffled by conspiracies such as

"How much was Ed hallucinating/dreaming??" After he gets out of the gravy basket, none of it. Very obviously none of it. Why would you assume they had time to waste this season on trying to confuse us about what's actually happening?

"What if Ed actually killed Buttons?" Okay, putting aside that just not happening on screen and therefore the most reasonable assumption being that he didn't, what would that actually do for the story? Buttons turning into a seagull underscored season themes of change. Ed killing him would be confusing, weird, and extremely out of character.

"What if Ed was the one who killed Felix the cabin boy?" This one absolutely baffles me. That story is transparently there to show us what Hornigold was like as a captain and illustrate why Ed hates him. Ed doing that instead of Hornigold would be wildly out of character and inconsistent with everything Ed does.

And my favorite, the one that made the author of That One Meta instantly lose all credibility for me when I skimmed and saw it:

"What if Ed and Stede's new shack is stinky because they actually have Izzy's body in there and Ed's in denial of his death, etc. etc."

Well. Given my awareness of the show I'm watching. I feel pretty safe in saying that it's stinky in there because, and I can't stress this enough, this is a comedy and sometimes it is funny for things to be stinky.

[sy-on-boy]

Anya + unraveling the mystery of the Desmond family (and Damian being different)

When Melinda debuted, I wrote a post about how she was potentially a character against the Forgers because Anya hadn't met her (we gain insight into characters via our deus ex machina Anya meeting them and reading their minds). Anya has met her now and the narrative has established that she genuinely cares for Damian (even if she's still a mysterious character).

After a long time, Demetrius is finally here. He's still mysterious, but not antagonistic to his brother and still cares for him. Like I said in a previous post, Demetrius subverts what I said above because Anya cannot read him fully even if she's met him. But regardless, Demetrius is here, we've seen him, all four Desmonds have finally debuted. And in my mind, I can vaguely connect them to the Forger-Briar extended family:

Anya - Damian: The kids aiming for stella stars and seeking parental approval. Attached to their dogs. Occasionally heroic (dodgeball, handkerchief, bus hijacking), but ultimately silly kids dragged into "adult" political matters (Anya with more awareness than Damian).

Loid - Donovan: Standing in for WISE vs war, one of the central conflicts. They are fathers and authority figures. Loid, faking a job as a psychiatrist, seeks to understand people (as a fake job, but he also does this as a spy). Donovan famously declared that people would never truly sympathize with each other. A good, attentive father and a neglectful father.

Yor - Melinda: The mothers, the narrative kind of puts them in the background compared to their husbands, but we know they have plot behind them. Yor's job as an assassin is unknown to her family (sans Anya). Melinda has struggles of her own when it comes to parenting her kids / being married to Donovan.

Demetrius - Yuri: Bit of a stretch, but they're both characterized as genius brothers and on the side compared to the main father-mother-child trios. Yuri works for the SSS, in direct opposition to Loid. Demetrius is a middle schooler?? He’s a child so he’s probably not that involved in the main plot, and if he is, it’s not willingly / he was brought up that way. They're both younger (and less experienced) compared to the adults- Demetrius is still a child and Yuri is 20. Yuri's affection for Yor is overflowing and the Briar siblings are very supportive of each other. In contrast, Demetrius is passive and apathetic, but not uncaring.

Anya has met everyone except for Donovan. Anya thinks both Melinda and Demetrius are weird. And Anya thinks of Donovan as the evil super boss. To her, the Desmonds are "weird". "All of Sy-on boy's relatives are such weirdos" - not sure if it's just the translation, but this line seems to imply Anya thinks Damian is exempt to the weirdness of his family. After all, unlike Demetrius, she can read Damian's thoughts normally. And unlike Melinda (and Yuri, and Fiona), she usually doesn't get bombarded with an overwhelming wave of intense thoughts when she reads Damian's mind.

And that brings us to the next point - Damian's time in Eden and the positive influences he receives (away from his family). Damian and Anya are better friends now. E&E's loyalty and affection for him have been established countless times. Becky congratulates Damian this chapter. Despite Damian thinking people suck up to him to get close to his father, he has a group of friends who do care about him (including Becky who doesn't suck up to him). Outside of what we see from Anya's pov, Damian has teachers and his dorm mother (Jeeves too) who care for him. Damian isn't alone.

Damian is shown to be disconnected from his family for whatever reason. His parents didn't come to his orientation. Damian says he doesn't see his parents often. Melinda cares for Damian but isn't allowed to see him often / afraid to be seen with him (?). Damian has called Demetrius before but this is the first time we see him meet Demetrius in person. And we all know about Damian's goal of impressing his father. Damian seems to believe Demetrius and Donovan when close when they were younger (when Demetrius was slightly older than Damian’s age), but Damian receives no such attention. Despite this, Damian still manages to have a fairly happy school life with his friends and supportive adult figures.

I think Damian's growing friendship with Anya and the recent complete reveal of the Desmond family will push Anya into thinking Damian is not like his weird family. If anything, Damian is more like Anya and her associates. Post bus-hijacking, Damian from Anya's POV is seen as more likeable / sympathetic, even more so now that we know about his mother and brother.

Anya is a child who is exposed to some of the darkness in Melinda / Demetrius' heads (trauma from being close to Donovan?), and she doesn't really understand them. Melinda / Demetrius seem off to outsiders (we saw Yor’s reaction, Becky thinks Demetrius is creepy) but it’s only Anya who’s capable of reading their minds and knowing how weird their thoughts are. But Anya has a much better understanding of Damian, the youngest Desmond, who is a kid like her with understandable motivations (getting stars, impressing his dad) similar to Anya's own motivations.

Interesting to note that Demetrius, while at Eden, seems rather lonely and disconnected even within his peer group. When he walks down the stairs, the panel frames it as him being alone, while Damian has four friends with him. When Damian and Anya get their stars, their classmates are shown to be smiling / impressed. When Demetrius gets his stars, we see two of his peers sweatdropping, almost looking wary, while a blushing girl has her hands to her mouth. The story doesn't show Demetrius' peers celebrating his success. It feels like Demetrius' peers are used to him getting good grades but still in awe of how good he is, but... they're not really close to him. Demetrius is not social and says he doesn't understand people, and maybe he doesn't interact much with his peers.

This chapter also reveals Demetrius is not in regular contact with Donovan anymore, contrary to what Damian believed. So Demetrius seems removed from the Desmond family sphere, but also isn't super integrated into the Eden sphere (in contrast to his 6yo brother and his friends). We can believe Demetrius isn’t close to Donovan because he is annoyed (and triggered?) by the mere mention of his father. Clearly Donovan has done something scarring to both Melinda and Demetrius and their thoughts look weird to Anya. Damian, despite craving for his father's attention and being stressed about it, is still relatively unaffected.

From now on, I think we'll slowly get more information about the Desmonds while Damian remains separated from them in the narrative. Damian is introduced as a vital part of Plan B due to his connection with his father, but even Damian himself admits there's not much of a connection. Plan B is working (sort of) because Damianya are friends, but that doesn't mean it's easier for Anya to meet Donovan. I think the narrative has been pushing Damian away from being a plot device for Plan B to being Anya's genuine friend and a victim of the Desmond parenting. At this point, Damian is not really useful to the main plot and there's not much mystery to this 6yo child.

Damian still thinks of himself as a scion of the Desmonds and he’s desperately trying to get his father’s attention. But his dad doesn’t really care, his mom loves him but doesn’t want him to be near Donovan, his brother is similar and also seemingly doesn’t want anything to do with Donovan. Meanwhile, the story establishes him as a boy with a crush on Anya, a boy with friends who will readily sacrifice themselves for him, a boy who’s willing to protect his classmates. All around Damain, his peers, associates, and the story itself has long been defining Damian as someone outside of being the Desmond family. But Damian naturally holds onto it.

Damian isn’t mysterious to Anya because she can read him. Okay, she still thinks he’s a brat sometimes, but that’s Damain being Damian, not Damian being a Desmond. But everyone else in the family is mysterious and it makes Anya feel at least vaguely uncomfortable.

The Desmonds are probably connected to Project Apple, and with the recent hints of Anya’s backstory, we might get some of that. But Damian is framed as almost completely separate to whatever went on, while Melinda and Demetrius are portrayed as victims of Donovan, mysterious and a bit weird but still sympathetic.

And that’s why I think it’s coming together— hints of Anya’s backstory, Damianya becoming better friends, the Desmonds all here. We’ve scratched the surface off and we’re hopefully going to see more.

(Also, just a thought: if Damian indeed goes through a “dark arc” and becomes more like the rest of his family, Anya will know because she can read his mind. She will be able to tell if Damian’s thoughts also start being “weird”. But they are better friends now which could be a lead up to her helping Damian deal with the pressure and struggle.)

[bobbile-blog]

Not sure if anyone’s said this yet but now that we have Laterano events plural I’m fascinated by their (imo) very deliberate choice of protagonists, and there are almost a couple of layers of narrative going on there. I struggle a little figuring out how to get this into words but specifically I think they’re chosen to be people who can carry a narrative without contradicting the orthodox morals of the church. There’s a LOT of vaguely anti-authoritarian rambling below the cut so please kindly bear with me and my English major brain.

I can’t really start there though. One of the reasons this is so brain hurty is how deeply it’s woven into the storyline, so to start, I have to verbalize how Laterano and Arknights writing more generally is different from other, similar settings. Because like, I hear the words “morally negative church in a grimdark setting” and my brain immediately shuts off. Come on, that’s so far beyond low-hanging fruit, if you’ve seen any grimdark setting ever you know exactly what that looks like. And sure, it was fine the first two or three times you saw it, depending on your tolerance for that kinda thing, but it gets boring quick and even when it was new it was kinda uninteresting story-wise. “Religion is always fake because it inspires hope which means everyone who takes meaning from it is either a corrupt grifter or naive and misled” isn’t just edgy nonsense, it’s also basically useless as an actual critique. It tells you absolutely nothing except how to tune out a particular kind of story, and a story that tries to get you to hear less is doing its job wrong.

So, Arknights does something different. Instead of denying the premise of the church entirely, it actually takes it at its word. Laterano is, in almost every definition of the word, a paradise. It is basically unmatched in terms of actual quality of life, with its only competitors being the Durin cities and maybe Aegir, and is worlds apart from now much the rest of Terra sucks. More than that, though, the paradise is specifically tailored to the worldview of a religion with a strong central authority - when I say it takes it at its word, I mean the authoritarian bits too. Laterano is a city that lives in perfect order and peace because everyone follows the law perfectly and they all understand each other and never fight. Empathy is really important for this, as it allows for a believable amount of superhuman societal order. Laterano has very little crime, political drama, or quarrels in general. It’s the promises of a strict higher authority actually taken at face value: everyone follows the rules and that means they have effectively unfettered freedom, because they don’t want to break the rules and therefore they can do anything they want.

Laterano is specifically written to be a believable paradise in a setting that has none, so that when the story then turns around and criticizes that setting, it has significantly more weight. Even when the promises of paradise are taken at face value, there are still issues that cannot be addressed because the system is inherently flawed even in the imaginary scenario where it works. Even worse, the problems that poke holes in the imaginary perfect scenario are the same problems that they face in the real world, like “how do you deal with the interpretation of scriptures” and “hey there’s this racism thing I keep hearing about should we be worried about that or what”. Because of the way this imaginary perfect system works, we then look back on our real world in a new light and understand it a little better. It’s good critique.

Okay so how did we get here and what does this have to do with the protagonists? Well, this starts with Fiametta in Guide Ahead, because she’s a really weird protagonist. This is a cold take at this point but despite being the character on the front of the box, she has very little to actually do with the central conflict of the event. Most of the conflict is handled by Ezell first and Andoain second, and Fiametta mostly putters around putting holes in people until the finale where Andoain receives the answer he’s been looking for, he turns to explain it to the world, and he runs into the only person in the whole of Laterano who does not care about his motivations or his revelation. Her role, in other words, is to replace the climax of Andoain’s story with her own, and in doing so she makes it much harder to actually get a resolution and a meaning out of the story (this should not be taken as a criticism of her character, let me cook). Guide Ahead’s ending is hazy, with only small piecemeal resolutions to its conflicts, and for the longest time that was just the way the event was written and it stood on its own.

But now, Hortus de Escapismo is out and the monkey brain see patterns. Specifically, with the choice of protagonists. Because Executor is definitely different from Fiametta as a protagonist, but there’s one particularly important connection between the two, and that’s that as I mentioned in the beginning, they allow for stories don’t contradict orthodox morality. Fiametta we went over, as she’s uninterested in any of Andoain’s morality and just wants him dead. Executor, though, is purely focused on his mission and views the world through that lens. He only wants to achieve his objective, and while helping the needy is in line with the stated objectives of the church and he does do so when able, it’s secondary to his assigned task. He does change as he gets further into the story, and we’re not gonna ignore that, but we’ll be back to it later. What I mean is more that he is designed as a person who is able to lead a story that doesn’t contradict with the morals of Laterano. He sees the injustice and suffering around him, but that’s not his job, so he doesn’t need to solve it to have a complete story with a happy ending.

This is where it really gets complicated, so I apologize if I don’t explain this very well. I see this as us dealing with multiple layers of fiction: the events of the story, the perspective of the church, and our perspective as readers. Back to the first point - authoritarian institutions almost always use stories to sell people on their brand of order. Simple stories, simple enough that even calling them myths seems like overselling it a little, your “Saint George slays a dragon” kinda thing. This is the point of the second layer, the perspective of the church. I don’t really have an in-world justification for this layer - maybe you could make the argument that it has to do with Law’s perspective on things, but I don’t totally buy that - I think it’s more in a weird narrative transition space for people who don’t read very carefully. Regardless, Fiametta and Executor’s shared indifference to the questionable circumstances surrounding them is designed to let them tell a story to prop up the existing order. Their protagonist status and their missions are specifically constructed to allow them to ignore the suffering around them, and as such ignore the larger questions that might poke holes in the larger order. They’re both playing out the story of Saint George, where they go and find a bad guy and kill them and that’s all there is to it. The story is designed and told specifically for that “that’s all there is to it”.

But, as we said earlier, this is a good critique, and as such it intentionally undercuts this story with the third layer: what we actually see as readers. We are shown the suffering and the injustice, and then get to see our protagonists ignoring that to pursue their goals. This is what gives Guide Ahead’s ending its unique texture, which sets it apart from every other event with a vaguely unresolved ending. We have seen the actual issues with Laterano, and also watched our protagonist explicitly ignore them in favor of her own story. It’s unsatisfying in a way that only really makes sense to me if we as the readers have an understanding of intentional authorship. Whether it be Yvangelista XI or Law or The Actual Real Life Pope, there are issues here that we want to see a resolution to but people are choosing not to address them. Again, it’s good critique. Not only does it push the reader to unpack and understand the actual real-world technique, but it also helps blunt it. You have just seen a plot and protagonist ring uncharacteristically hollow. You then look around to see why that is, and you realize there are many things that should have been resolved that weren’t. The next time you see a story resolve with that same hollow-ness, you know where to look. Surprise! Harry Potter was propaganda the whole time. It’s okay, it was never good, you were just twelve.

I guess the last thing is where we go from here, because Executor’s story breaks this mold somewhat. In Hortus de Escapismo, he has to deal with a mission that isn’t actually bounded by his normal rules, and because of that he actually does have leeway to help the people around him. He starts as someone who is totally mission-focused, but by the end of the event he’s done a total 180 and is blocking Oren’s attack, which makes the mission harder but helps the non-mission-critical civilians of the monastery. He breaks from the rigid thinking of “kill the bad guy and that’s all there is do it”, and gives his attention to the people he isn’t supposed to see. I think this is an indication of the direction we’re going to be headed in the future with Laterano events. The events aren’t going to get better - they’re going to keep being just as morally murky and complicated as in the past - but the characters are going to get better at handling it, and when they do, they’re going to actually start to change things for the better.

Goddamn that was a lot of writing for 1 AM. I still have a. Lot of thoughts on this event with stuff like empathy and Lemuen and Federico being an autistic icon(my beloved) but I’m going to leave things there, I think, because if I write for any longer my phone is going to crash when I try to post this. Anyway if you actually made it to the end thanks for listening to me rambling and I hope that made sense. Cheers.

[kradogsrats]

Stars & Staffs: What the Heck, Guys

So. The staffs. The staffs.

Prior to this, we held the belief that the Staff of Ziard was made specifically for dark magic. I made a meme about it once (why yes, I do think I'm funny):

Now... that could still be the case. The Aaravos/Sauron parallels have always been off the charts, so "the dark lord forged in secret a master ring, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life" is still a definite possibility.

Aaravos also has a strong thread in his plans to bring about the stars' downfall through a vector they had overlooked—humans—and with warped mirrors of their creations—himself, characterized as "their dark brother," and possibly dark magic, itself.

—Ripples

—Patience

So yeah, still strong possibility that the Staff of Ziard is Aaravos's creation for humans, a mockery of their works delivered with irony.

However, the other possibility—that the Staff of Ziard is one of a set conceived for some magical purpose—is super interesting, because it's actually not strictly a dark magic staff in the way that Ibis's staff is a Sky magic staff or the Sunforge staff is a Sun magic staff.

Staffs for primal magic are pretty explicitly sources of power and focus for the mage. The Sunforge staff contains a small Sun primal stone, Ibis's staff appears to similarly contain a Sky primal stone—it's not clear whether these primal stones are powerful enough to be used on their own by a non-mage, but the corrupted Sunforge staff is at least powerful enough for Claudia to use it easily and immediately.

We also have Karim's staff, which doesn't have a visible stone and appears to be somewhat less powerful, acting more as a channel to focus his magic than a source for it. While we see a lot of rune spells cast using staffs, we also see several spells cast with staffs apparently instead of runes.

Most staffs are probably a lot more similar to that, because like... the Sunforge staff is obviously incredibly powerful, being linked directly to the Sun nexus and wielded by former Sunfire monarchs. Ibis's staff also tracks as a powerful artifact—I would not be surprised if Ibis was an archmage of Sky, or equivalent to one in power. Ibis even uses his staff for some rather complex magic—picking up objects, aiming, and launching them at Claudia—without a rune or a spoken draconic incantation.

The Staff of Ziard, on the other hand... it's not actually a dark magic staff in the same way. Instead of itself being a source of magic or using the mage's own connection to a primal source the way primal staffs do, the Staff of Ziard is all about siphoning away the essence of living creatures, whether that's primal magic or souls. Being able to then empower or release that essence seems to potentially be a matter of knowledge—Viren doesn't do it until Aaravos has basically taken over his subconscious, and the only other person we see do it is Ziard himself, draining the sunbirds directly into a corrupted fire capable of burning an Archdragon of the Sun.

Conceptually, siphoning essence to cast spells is very in tune with dark magic... but not exclusive to it. "Magic that takes," as Aditi describes it, apparently exists in several forms.

Additionally, like I said, Viren literally never uses the staff for any magic that isn't unique to it until mid-late s3.

All the dark magic spells he does before then, except for the ones that are explicitly done with the staff alone, he does without it.

(Yes, there's whatever he does to hold Thunder immobile, but that has always been a weird outlier we don't fully understand. We don't know whether it's a spell from the staff—unlikely, given that it doesn't involve or affect the central stone—or a reagent-powered dark magic spell he cast while the camera was focused on Thunder and Harrow.)

So what is the deal with these?

We know that the Celestial elves are guardians of artifacts related to Star magic, Startouch elves, and presumably the Stars/First Elves in general. So the staffs could just be being stored. They do have nice little display niches. What's kind of weird is that first of all, they're apparently powered up in some way, given the glow of their stones. Secondly, they're in full "open" configuration—the way Claudia uses the Staff of Ziard when opening the chrysalis.

Like the soul-trapping spell that is one of the staff's specialties, the chrysalis spell uses a dark magic incantation (rather than the Draconic-based deep magic or corrupted Sun magic spells). It's described as channeling the power of the "sun's first light," and what it does is, I'm fairly convinced, imbue the being inside the chrysalis with essence—on some level giving it consciousness or a soul.

So what if all the staffs work that way, but for different facets of energy or magic or whatever? Why create something like that, whether for the sorts of energy corresponding with primal sources, or for souls and consciousness? Why would Startouch elves need staffs, if they're so absurdly powerful?

Theory one: let's get the least likely one out of the way first. As a whole, the staffs are components of a machine-like spell or group ritual that maintains the flow of primal and other magic through the world. Yes, this is about my theory that the Starscraper is a kind of world-pillar or bridge that funnels magic to Xadia from elsewhere, and yes, I am a big fan of Pillars of Eternity. There's not really a lot of evidence for this, aside from the different stone colors and the arrangement and kind of strange location of the stored staffs. Like, what is up with this?

Theory two: we know the First Elves in some way divided into at least the five other kinds of primal elves. Could the staffs have been somehow related to that, intentionally consolidating and focusing the First Elves' magical nature into separate forms? Again, there's not really any evidence for this beyond that staffs are meant to be carried and used by people, and the theory that the First Elves may have consciously taken on becoming the different primal elves.

Theory three: this is the forbidden magic that was given to humans, not primal stones. We have two sources for the "Leola gifted primal magic/stones to humans" story, and each of them contributes different things—the one that specifies primal stones doesn't mention Leola by name, attributing the gift to unicorns as a whole, while the one that specifies Leola doesn't mention the primal stones, instead specifying that she provided them with the runes and Draconic words for spells. If the staffs are like the Staff of Ziard but for other energies, including primal sources—if they're all "magic that takes," it would make a lot more sense why the stars got so fussed about humans having it. There isn't really any more evidence for this than for my other theories, but shut up I like this one. It would be the chef's kiss Uno-Reverse cap on the entire mangled and obscured story of the history of human magic.

Anyway, my insane TED Talk aside, what in all heck is going on, because every time I think I've gotten this shit kind of figured out, they do this kind of curve ball.

[hungwy]

What are you reading lately?

recently finished audiobooks:

the invention of nature: alexander von humboldt's new world by andrea wulf (5/5 stars, extremely based takes for an 1800s european on the immorality of slavery, rights for indigenous people in the americas, and the negative effects of colonization on the environment. basically THE blueprint for all naturalists after him. probably one of the most beloved scientists ever)

central asia: a new history from the imperial conquests to the present by adeeb khalid (5/5 stars, just a wonderfully researched and presented book. a [necessary] focus on the role of islam, nation-building, ethnicity, and communism in central asia)

when we cease to understand the world by benjamin labatut (4/5 stars, i will never get enough of the history of quantum theory)

the art of communicating by thich nhat hanh (3/5 stars, he writes the same book every book but i still like it every time)

a brief history of equality by thomas piketty (2/5 stars, some good history but essentially a "we must discuss these problems further" book with sometimes weird possible solutions to problems. overall one obviously good point: economic reparations are necessary in many, many places)

currently reading/listening/holding/sensually imbibing:

system of transcendental idealism by fwj schelling (pdf)

a short commentary on kant's critique of pure reason by ac erwing (book)

the case against the supreme court by erwin chemerinsky (audiobook)

next on the to-read list (not in order):

non-places: an introduction to supermodernity by marc auge (admittedly a shot in the dark for whether i like it or not)

immediacy or, the style of too late capitalism by anna kornbluh (zizek and so on podcast did an interview with her that i really liked)

views of nature by alexander von humboldt (hopelessly humboldtpilled)

essays on transcendental philosophy by salomon maimon (imo kant's greatest critic and also has a cool philosophy of difference)