#concision

[dogsuffrage]

Another question for my tumblr census...

Do what you feel is most accurate, even if there is some nuance. If nothing feels accurate enough for you, do other.

[domlarkin]

Poetry Captures...( Haiku)

Poetry captures

warm, golden moments in time.

Summer is too brief.

Nostalgia is heightened by

concise language that

represents Nature's essence.

Poetry captures

life before it disappears.

[stimpunks]

Concision and Why Sheets

Chomsky uses the term concision to discuss the way mainstream media outlets respond to power. Having concision means that ideas which align with forces of power in our society need no explanation and those that do not align with those forces of power need significant explanation. This allows the narrative of the “state religion” to be told across the media, because it’s quick and easy since it…

[suntails]

✨ Once upon a time ✨

[qunaributts]

Gamers this has been on my mind for a while, and I've been Going Through It so I can't thoughtfully articulate it yet but: the little things can, and absolutely will, save you.

[spookyfluffy]

A perfectly normal response to a rage god asking "Why do you not burn?"

[valtsv]

"dipshit" is an underrated insult tbh. there's a certain scalding disdain to it that nothing else can hope to match.

[last-tambourine]

Guernica: In what ways is poetry magical thinking—what does it effect that no other art form can?

Lucie Brock-Broido: Well I’m not sure that poetry is singular. There are more powerful arts, such as music. Maybe twice in my life, if I were lucky, have I wept from a poem. Get me near music and I can be bent into tears. It holds my heart and manipulates me more than poetry. Language itself, though, is at the top. Real speech: what people say and what’s withheld from being said is of the essence to me. In real speech, that which is withheld hurts. On the page, that which is withheld is the most pure form of speech.

That’s what interests me in poetry. That withholding, that white space, the pressure, and my long-term faith in violent concision, is still with me. When I feel most powerful, as a writer, is not in the art of composition. I feel I am at the mercy of the hour, the moment, or the eccentricities of my own circuitry. As an editor of my own work and others’, that is where I feel at my most powerful. I am Edward Scissorhands. For something—an image or a phrase to get to live in a poem, it has to be a big deal. Earned

[meyhew]

In times like these, Black and Brown men are dehumanized and erased. We focus on talking about the women and children of Palestine, but what about the men? Are they not worthy? Are their lives not divine? Are they not deserving of mourning? (x)

[on-leatheredwings]

Mr. Sandman (18+)

Yandere Jason Todd / AFAB Reader

> romantic  > tw/cw: non-con, somno. reader has a vagina, piv sex, creampie(s). > Jason just can't get enough of you when you're awake; why would that change when you're asleep? > a/n: my first jason solo!!! WE UP! im a sucker for simpering, weak, vulnerable jason sowwyyyy . he needs u spiritually what can i say . > word count: 1.1k

Jason knows he shouldn't be doing this.

But who could blame him? You’re just so gorgeous. And so smart, so funny, so generous and so– so perfect. You are his god. He is your faithful acolyte. And your cunt is his altar of choice.

Jason glances himself in the mirror across your bedroom. He’s a hulking mass of muscle on all fours, hovering above your gently sleeping body. It would be a shock you haven’t woken up yet, if not for his stealth. He padded onto your bed, knowing just where the mattress would give soundlessly under his solid weight. Underneath him, you’re none the wiser. Innocent. Ripe and for the taking.

He shouldn't be doing this, he reminds himself, despite his bare erection already weeping precum in anticipation. 

You took him into your embrace, like a savior to a wounded dog. You decided he was loveable, of all things. 

He shouldn't be doing this, he tells himself again, despite his hands starting to wander. Your nipples poke sinfully through his wifebeater, breasts nearly spilling out of it anyway. You’ve dictated it to be your new set of pajamas. It’s much too long for you, falling past the start of your thighs. He peels it up, slowly, carefully. He leaves it to bunch at your collarbone, revealing your naked breasts. He swallows an appreciative groan, leaning forward and suckling on a nipple.

It’ll just be some heavy petting. Just some kissing. Just some marks so people know you’re his – he knows what to say so you won’t mind that too much in the morning. Just– just a few touches.

But then Jason’s hand wanders downwards. And when he cups your cunt with his hand – his throat tightens; he bristles, stiffens; heady desire intoxicates him and fogs his mind – all restraint comes crashing down. 

He was a damn idiot to think he could resist.

“Okay– Just a little. Just a little, I swear,” Jason groans, little more than a whisper, betraying his attempts at being quiet.

Jason, with expert vigilante fluidity, hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. He lowers and shuffles back to an eye-level view of your cunt, waiting prettily just for him.

He draws circles around your clit with his fingers, using his abundant precum as lube. A man possessed, he could watch all day at how easily and nicely you let his fingers in.

Fuck, you were made just for him, he bets. It’s not only his cock your pussy remembers; your body accommodates, obeys, and wettens in response to every part of his own. He’s barely even trying, pumping his digits back and forth. You’re basically drawing him in. 

Your mouth drops open, a soft whine falling out, and he freezes. His fingers are still stuffed in your puffy cunt. After a few seconds, you continue dozing off, although your brows pinch together with pleasure.

If you can wake up at any second, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least go the full mile. He slips his fingers out. Another whine from you. I know, I know, baby, he thinks. You’ll be full again soon enough. Jason slides forward and makes you both fit together puzzle pieces, cock against your folds. “Just the tip, I promise,” Jason says again. And so he continues. 

He’s in. He lets out a relieved sigh, nearly moaning. He’s in.

… But it’s not enough.

Before Jason knows it, he’s pushing forward, entering you fully. And every inch is well-earned – your tightness has him choked, panting and gasping. Yeah, he reassures himself. He fucking belongs here.

It takes him no time at all to start fucking his precum into your cunt. A near-frothy ring of cream grows at the fat base of his cock, a product of his speed and fervor. If he had the mind to, he’d be embarrassed at his desperation. But then he grinds your clit down against the root of his cock, frotting against your walls, and he could not be at all fucked to care.

Jason could start laughing, fucking you with wild abandon. As soon as he climbed on this bed, this was out of his hands. How did he ever think he’d be able to stop? He can’t even try to quiet down anymore. There’s the sound of skin colliding bouncing through the room, your mattress creaking from the intensity of him pounding you, and of course, his own heavy breathing. Fuck, fuck. Despite the noise, he can’t help it – he needs this.

Finally, the hot coil in him snaps. He shudders violently, veins visible in his arms and temple, mouth falling open into a moan. Face-to-face with you at this point, his breaths tickle against your cheek.

On his third orgasm, he’s finally spent. He marvels at the mess he’s made – the inside of your thighs is slick with his own makings, pearly white smeared across the canvas that his your skin. Your abused cunt is swollen and so, so pretty. His cock is still firing ropes into your body. 

Jason can't bear to withdraw himself, mind drunk with pleasure. Suddenly drowsy, Jason has to stop himself from collapsing on top of you. He gently lowers himself to lie down facing you. Both of you are on your sides, his cock still buried in your warmth.

You start to wake up, blinking away the blearly tendrils of sleep. You glance black hair and a shock of white. Mm. Jason, your sleepy mind thinks. Good. Great, even. The allure of continuing your slumber calls, as he rocks you back and forth, the motion almost sedative. Hips meeting yours, cock rutting into you…

Wait–

Your eyes fully snap open, body on high alert. You gasp.

“Jay–?” you squeak. Now fully awake, you register the full presence of his length in you and the pleasurable throb in between your thighs. And the utter stickiness of your thighs. 

Startled, Jason wakes up with a jerk. He doesn’t normally fall into such deep sleep. He feels panic rise. He was supposed to wake up after just a few minutes…!

“Fuck–” he begins, fumbling to roll away and unsheathe himself. But you curl a fist around the collar of his shirt, like pulling on a leash. You two stare at one another, both bodies still sweaty and warm. Your cunt is still full with him, his seed. Leaking. 

Fear thunders through Jason at getting caught. 

But then you pout. So cute, his dumb animal brain instinctively thinks. Even though you’d argue to him that you’re nothing of the sort. You smile mischievously, sinking onto his cock an inch.

“Now, Jay,” you say, tutting. “You should’ve woken me up first.”

[halalchampagnesocialist]

I've probably made a gazillion posts of this iteration over the many years but it bears repeating. What frustrates me about liberal discourses on Palestinian-Israeli violence is the implication that violence is sporadic on both sides. It's frustrating because people will act like the only real issue with Israeli violence towards Palestinians is ones that come solely from extremist settlers or from right-wing governments.

You might argue that perhaps Palestinian violence against Israelis is random, sporadic and so on, but that is not the case with Israeli violence towards Palestinians at all. Israeli violence towards Palestinians is systemic but also is a daily occurrence. Not only does Israel kill Palestinians every single day, even prior to the current war, but it acts as a bystander to settler violence, even actively supports the settler violence. Violence does not even have to be murder but just the sheer control over Palestinian lives. The fact that Israel can cut water, electricity, etc to Palestinians at any time without notice. The way that Israel can come into any city and bulldoze streets like it's been doing in Jenin and Tulkarem in the West Bank. Of course, can't forget to mention the land grabs and that Israel can designate any piece of land a closed military zone whenever it wants. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to Israel's actions at all but just does so to play with the lives of Palestinians.

The Israeli hostages did not deserve to die but you absolutely cannot talk about the tragedy of their deaths or Hamas' 'brutality' in isolation without also mentioning that Gaza has been effectively turned into a death camp or that Israel holds thousands of Palestinians in its prisons without trial. This isn't mentioning that Israel as the occupier can kidnap any person it wants at any time and treats those prisoners very inhumanely.

The worst part about all this is not just the obfuscation of these facts but so many of these same people acting like the violence is sporadic act so nonchalant towards Palestinian deaths in 'normal times.' Or even towards whoever Israel kills as long as Israel gets their wanted guy. It's also this discourse that leads certain people to deny Israeli culpability, minimise Palestinian suffering, etc.

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 6

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5]

[meruz]

u kno what it is

[nateglogan]

Very glad to have a poem in the new issue of Concision!

[blown-to-kingdom-come]

the fuck was up with this guy anyway

[brennan-lee-mother]

You ever think about how the Rat Grinders represent what the Bad Kids could have turned out to be if they hadn’t found each other freshman year?

Fig, the depressed rocker, all performance

Riz, the highstrung control freak who never found Penny

Fabian, the asshole jock who looks down on dancers

Gorgug, the uncommunicative loner

Kristen, the chosen

Adaine, the unwilling participant in her rich evil family’s plots

Because I do, and now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go scream into my pillow