#field: politics

[linddzz]

I can’t stop thinking about how unhinged Jayce would’ve acted if Ambessa “Twink Hunter” Medarda tried to come onto Viktor

Ambessa keeps showing up to the lab and it takes him a bit to catch on tbh. until the moment Ambessa is leaning over Viktor with one hand on the table crooning that she's always been fascinated by what fine work such delicate hands can accomplish ("yes thank you" says Viktor cooly, obliviously homosexual and annoyed, "it is often easier when I do not have someone breathing on the back of my neck.")

Rack focus over to Jayce in the background. realizing what is happening. shocked. outraged. absolutely aghast. ExCUSE you Viktor needs a lot of space he is very busy! there's only room for one brick house in this lab anyway they both have a lot to do actually so if you can be on your way ma'am??!

Mel and Jayce look over at some event just in time to see Ambessa pulling off a full kabedon on Viktor (still obliviously homosexual and still annoyed, his expression mostly a "can I help you??") saying that she admires the determination, the will, the sheer grit he must have to get where he is. Especially when it's all in such a...disarmingly dainty package...

And while Mel is desperately trying to find some other twink she can throw in front of her mom, Jayce just broke the sound barrier barrelling over to swoop Viktor up and get him the fuck out of there. You hear a doppler effect on startled/infuriated Czech Freljord cursing as they vanish down the halls

[inkjetpaladin]

I'm crying. Toji's trending because of Donald Trump. The fact that I came to know the news because of Toji trending lmao

[nathaniacolver]

i feel like tumblr NEEDS to know about Dr. Ally Louks, and the term "Olfactory Ethics"

(long post incoming)

storytime/timeline:

on november 27, 2024, an excited English Literature PhD recipient posted a picture of herself with her thesis, titled:

"Olfactory Ethics: The Politics of Smell in Modern and Contemporary Prose"

as you can see (on the bottom row, above), the tweet has been viewed over 119 MILLION times, and has received over 250k likes. unfortunately, within days (most of the replies dating december 1st), she had garnered what seems like every possible insecure man with a twitter account to post their vitriol and rage concerning the fact that a woman is clearly more well-researched than them. regardless, she tanked it ALL with kindness and with a smile:

AND I MEAN VITRIOL (queen of making boundaries clear):

(inserting reading break for the timeline's space's sake):

here's her abstract:

and in case the abstract wasn't clear, she has since (date: december 16th) taken the time to re-summarize her thesis for the layman (yes that is a link! click it! 3min read!)

she has repeatedly shown just the perfect amount of kindness and understanding for those who are simply Not Comprehending (mostly december 1st):

(the chatGPT hate in the next one is my favorite:)

has upheld an incredibly high moral standard of how she interacts with the situation (december 2nd):

ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS: regardless of this crap, she made it clear that as a professor, her FIRST priority at the end of the semester would be taking care of them (december 3rd)

(CAN SHE GET MORE BASEDDDDDDDDDD)

she stays both 1) educating the masses, and 2) engaging with pop culture as much as a normal person would (december 9th-17th):

she also supports a free palestine (WHO IS SURPRISED. NOT ME.) ((december 15th))

here's the BEST FREAKING THING ABOUT THIS. since this all has happened, RANDOM TWITTER USERS, UNKNOWINGLY, have REPEATEDLY proven her thesis to be true,

again,

and again,

AND AGAIN.

EVEN CARDI B DO YOU HEAR MEEEEEEEE

COMBATING MISOGYNOIR WITH HER OWN BARE HANDSSSSS

oh she knows she's mother

here's some more she never saw/commented on (INCLUDING SOME FROM TODAY. IT IS STILL GOING ON. EVERY SINGLE DAY LIKE CLOCKWORK SOMEONE POSTS SOMETHING THAT PROVES HER POINTS ABOUT OLFACTORY ETHICS):

THE WICKED MOVIE REFERENCE HELLO

apparently, OTHER academics are mad at her for being so famous and influential, but she stays unbothered (december 16th, and TODAY, december 19th):

and she's partially getting her post-doc on how people's sense of smell has been altered (december 1st):

and the best part is!

all of these screenshots i've collected are only a SAMPLE, illustrating dr. louks' indomitably kind and ethical character.

anyway. i want ALL of y'all to start saying, out loud, "olfactory ethics", or even better, "dr. louks was RIGHT" (something something women's names are erased something) every time you see something that plays into her thesis. never let her influence die. THINK THROUGH what you're REALLY saying when you comment on the smell of something, or how your perception has been shaped by society. USE THIS PHOTO IF YOU HAVE TO:

follow her on twitter (@DrAllyLouks) or bluesky (idk her handle, if someone tells me i'll edit it in)

AND SAY HER NAME!! DR. ALLY LOUKS

[saccharinescorpion]

i’m sorry, i have to put my foot down: Juniper did NOT call the farmer stinky and do the ojou-sama laugh in her first scene for you to say “March is literally the only character in Fields Of Mistria who isn’t overly nice to the player” this is blatant mean girl erasure!!

[bearfoottruck]

Not as closely related to the election, but here's a story about how actress Sally Field had an illegal abortion in 1964. Let's do our part to make these a thing of the past!

[atoltia]

March can be easily flustered...

...If he was aware that the things that he did or were done to him were to be taken as gestures of affection, whether it be platonic or romantic.

There was a method to his madness. Simplicity in logic was to be preferred over convoluted solutions and discussions. The most direct course of action to reach perfection, even when that particular avenue could be misconstrued into something else.

But he couldn't always see it.

When you pointed out that he was being sweet when he gave you that hoe (after fully insulting you, please do not forget) knowing full well how much pride he has on his work, how much blood and sweat he spent on meticulously crafting it to the best it could be, he was a blubbering mess.

He was sober that time so he had the mind to throw you out of the shop with a rather hasty slam to the door, leaving you cackling loud enough for him to hear from inside the blacksmith (loud enough, mind you, to wake up Olric from wherever the hell he was taking a nap).

That one moment you told him that you found it sweet that he took the time to teach you on how to use his forge (with the thickly veiled threat that he will break your arms if you so much as damage his equipment. Don't worry, you threatened to shove his sorry ass into the fire if he ever tried. Both of you had to pull Olric away from the forge because he would have actually fallen into it after laughing so much at the both of you), you were sure he was gonna have a stroke.

When you heard him mention at the Saturday market that he liked hot chocolate, he banged his shin into the stall accidentally when he saw that you bought him a cup (he did accuse you of bribing Darcy to poison it, though. Little shit had the gall to slap your hand away like a greedy little gremlin when you tried to take it back. Both of you were bickering so much that the poor cup of hot chocolate had to be saved by Olric lest it get spilled).

Little instances led you to believe that the man was just a blubbering mess of nerves and embarrassment whenever he ever gets associated with being sweet.

But then there was that time when he took your hand into his, examined every digit, ever crevice, every scratch, every contusion with such intimate concentration that you thought your heart would fail from beating so fast (you didn't even hear him lecture you about being a dumbass in the mines again while he bandaged you, so congratulations on that little victory).

There was that time where you injured your hand (again) and was unable to properly eat your meal. Josephine offered to help you but the gremlin of a man already took it upon himself to feed you himself, all the while continuing the lecture that he started two days before (don't worry, you were much too focused on his very close proximity to you and not choking on the food that you didn't have the mental capacity to process whatever the fuck he was saying).

And then there was that time, one horrible autumn morning, that that fake redhead came barreling towards you, come to a full stop, and rather abruptly press his forehead into yours. You felt yourself short circuit for a moment, hyper aware of the fact that he smelled like nice cinnamon chocolate, both his warm, calloused hands gently pressed at your shoulders to keep you steady, that you didn't even realize that he was berating you for sporting a fever after overworking yourself for the nth time this season (not even when he hauled your ass up his shoulders and dumped you at the clinic himself. Valen wasn't sure if she was impressed or horrified).

None of these changes the fact that he was a wuss at being given compliments. But maybe, just maybe, he was also too dense at being able to pick up on the way his method of care ripped your heart into a torrent of emotion, turning you into the blushing, heart clutching disaster that you often thought of him as. And yeah, maybe you were a little lovestruck. Him too, possibly. Probably. Who the fuck knows. Neither of you surely don't.

(And between you and me, you wouldn't have it any other way.)

(You still hope the son of a bitch kisses you sometime soon, though.)

-0-

check out my masterlist lmao

[milflewis]

david cameron essentially shit the bed and pissed in all your expensive wine bottles and tried to fuck your dad And your mam AND your dog. left and went on a sabbatical for his mental health and personal growth. and then came back to your house still a fucking mess that He caused and went damn bitch you live like this ???

[letterful]

Romanticism is the primitive, the untutored, it is youth, life, the exuberant sense of life of the natural man, but it is also pallor, fever, disease, decadence, the maladie de siècle, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, the Dance of Death, indeed Death itself. It is Shelley's dome of many-coloured glass, and it is also his white radiance of eternity. It is the confused teeming fullness and richness of life, Fülle des Lebens, inexhaustible multiplicity, turbulence, violence, conflict, chaos, but also it is peace, oneness with the great `I Am', harmony with the natural order, the music of the spheres, dissolution in the eternal all-containing spirit. It is the strange, the exotic, the grotesque, the mysterious, the supernatural, ruins, moonlight, enchanted castles, hunting horns, elves, giants, griffins, falling water, the old mill on the Floss, darkness and the powers of darkness, phantoms, vampires, nameless terror, the irrational, the unutterable.

Also it is the familiar, the sense of one's unique tradition, joy in the smiling aspect of everyday nature, and the accustomed sights and sounds of contented, simple, rural folk — the sane and happy wisdom of rosy-checked sons of the soil. It is the ancient, the historic, it is Gothic cathedrals, mists of antiquity, ancient roots and the old order with its unanalysable qualities, its profound but inexpressible loyalties, the impalpable, the imponderable.

Also it is the pursuit of novelty, revolutionary change, concern with the fleeting present, desire to live in the moment, rejection of knowledge, past and future, the pastoral idyll of happy innocence, joy in the passing instant, a sense of timelessness. It is nostalgia, it is reverie, it is intoxicating dreams, it is sweet melancholy and bitter melancholy, solitude, the sufferings of exile, the sense of alienation, roaming in remote places, especially the East, and in remote times, especially the Middle Ages.

But also it is happy co-operation in a common creative effort, the sense of forming part of a Church, a class, a party, a tradition, a great and all-containing symmetrical hierarchy, knights and retainers, the ranks of the Church, organic social ties, mystic unity, one faith, one land, one blood, `la terre et les morts', as Barrès said, the great society of the dead and the living and the yet unborn. It is the Toryism of Scott and Southey and Wordsworth, and it is the radicalism of Shelley, Büchner and Stendhal. It is Chateaubriand's aesthetic medievalism, and it is Michelet's loathing of the Middle Ages. It is Carlyle's worship of authority, and Hugo's hatred of authority. It is extreme nature mysticism, and extreme anti-naturalist aestheticism. It is energy, force, will, youth, life, étalage du moi; it is also self-torture, self-annihilation, suicide. It is the primitive, the unsophisticated, the bosom of nature, green fields, cow-bells, murmuring brooks, the infinite blue sky.

No less, however, it is also dandyism, the desire to dress up, red waistcoats, green wigs, blue hair, which the followers of people like Gérard de Nerval wore in Paris at a certain period. It is the lobster which Nerval led about on a string in the streets of Paris. It is wild exhibitionism, eccentricity, it is the battle of Ernani, it is ennui, it is taedium vitae, it is the death of Sardanopolis, whether painted by Delacroix, or written about by Berlioz or Byron. It is the convulsion of great empires, wars, slaughter and the crashing of worlds. It is the romantic hero — the rebel, l'homme fatale, the damned soul, the Corsairs, Manfreds, Giaours, Laras, Cains, all the population of Byron's heroic poems. It is Melmoth, it is Jean Sbogar, all the outcasts and Ishmaels as well as the golden-hearted courtesans and the noble-hearted convicts of nineteenth-century fiction. It is drinking out of the human skull, it is Berlioz who said he wanted to climb Vesuvius in order to commune with a kindred soul. It is Satanic revels, cynical irony, diabolical laughter, black heroes, but also Blake's vision of God and his angels, the great Christian society, the eternal order, and `the starry heavens which can scarce express the infinite and eternal of the Christian soul'.

It is, in short, unity and multiplicity. It is fidelity to the particular, in the paintings of nature for example, and also mysterious tantalising vagueness of outline. It is beauty and ugliness. It is art for art's sake, and art as an instrument of social salvation. It is strength and weakness, individualism and collectivism, purity and corruption, revolution and reaction, peace and war, love of life and love of death.

— from Isaiah Berlin's The Roots of Romanticism.

[nyc-goth-tradwife]

Watching this debate is insane because politics is so fake. You can run for president — literally be a presidential nominee — and say "THEYRE EATING THE DOGS" on stage and half of America is just like "yeah this is fine"

[frownyalfred]

Oml!! According to one of ur posts you go to galas sometimes? Ur so lucky!!! How do you get invited??

Lots of modern galas/fancy events are pay to play, i.e. buy a ticket, make a donation, etc. if you serve on a board or volunteer for an organization, you also often get tickets. For political events, it’s more about networking. For big fundraisers, it’s easy to get your foot in the door as someone else’s plus one, or there are sometimes scholarships (not kidding, financial support exists for the more expensive events). I’ve been invited to a lot of events purely because I already have a few black tie outfits, I’m decent arm candy for a variety of conversations, and I can be ready quickly.

They aren’t as fun as people might think. Sometimes they can be, but usually it’s 200-300 people in black tie crammed into a hotel ballroom trying to figure out if the bar has more than one kind of vodka without actually going over there. Because that means running into people, which means talking to people. And if I’ve learned anything from those events, being seen by several people is the goal; after that, you can leave and do whatever the hell you want. Including taking off your heels…

[ivorysodapop]

I've been playing a lotta FOM lately so here is the guy I dropped in there in an approximation of its style.. (bc pixel art is. An endeavor.) Hi Torrey yayyy yayyy

[summerofspock]

I like to keep my fandom spaces free of talk about current events but that doesn't mean I don't care and this sucks and my heart is with everyone and that is all I'm going to say about it

[generalelectionmusings]

Apparently he didn’t have a dish. He was 9 when sky went mainstream in the UK. He was also at boarding school. At c. £50k a year (today’s equivalent prices)

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

[x]

Can we go back to the fields of wheat? Do you guys remember running through the fields of wheat? I miss the fields of wheat.

[thegreatyin]

come shadow, come follow me

i've been waiting to introduce him for months. the plutonian shadow my beloved. aka my completely normal bag a legend protagonist, who is definitely not only normal but also mundane in nature. Definitely.

[athenasdragon]

Well not to catastrophize but today has felt like the floor suddenly dropped out from under me