#intra familiare

[divulgatoriseriali]

Violenza di genere intra-familiare: comprendere le radici e le dinamiche

Il tema della violenza di genere intra-familiare è oggi molto sentito e dibattuto. Colpisce tanto le donne, ma anche gli uomini. Si tratta di una questione delicata perché, oltre a smuoverci emotivamente, richiama l’attenzione sulla responsabilità sociale di noi tutti, che costituiamo quel contesto culturale e quell’ordine sociale che talvolta accetta la violenza anziché condannarla. Continue…

[germiyahu]

If someone derails your conversation about Israel to be about Israel's treatment of this or that group, Mizrachim, Beta Israel, etc. you may just want to consider their motivations, and do a little digging into the kinds of subjects they normally talk about on their own blogs.

If someone who has staunchly antizionist views, like I'm talking thinly veiled genocidal fantasies about destroying Israel and reveling in the chaos that would bring, and having no concern for the future of 7 millions Jews, their concerns about Medinat Yisrael's treatment of minority groups are not valid.

This is Concern Trolling.

If someone is derailing you to accuse Israel, through accusing you, of sterilizing Ethiopian women, stealing Mizrachi babies and having them raised by "white" parents, trying to destroy Yiddish, all these alleged violent assimilationist policies that Israel employs against fellow Jews?

A non Jew barging into your space and bringing up intra-community issues and grievances is a red flag. Do not fall for the sealioning trap. Do not turn out your pockets. Do not fall for the concern trolling.

Because what is their solution to these problems? To eliminate Israel as a state? And what about these minority groups within Israeli society then? Their answer is the same as their answer for the Ashkenazim: who cares? They largely imagine all Israeli Jews can simply move to the United States or France or something. The fact that over 95% of Israelis cannot just go to the countries of their parents or grandparents is of no concern to them.

That's why it's concern trolling. They're trolling you by pretending to be concerned, and baiting you into discussing an intra-community issue because they think that'll be the argument that finally gets you to disavow Israel. Because now you'll have no choice but to agree Israel is irredeemably problematic, because now it affects other Jews. So they are exhibiting a kind of bitterly envious brand of antisemitism. They think that all Jews believe in Jewish supremacy. They're quite mad about it. This is an aspect of the Chosen People canard.

But the main reason concern trolling is bad is because they don't care about these groups they bring up. They're not defending them, they're not championing their rights. They're trying to distract you and make you look like a hypocrite. When they cheer for Hamas raping and pillaging and spraying bullets into Israelis, they don't care if it happens to Beta Israel women who've supposedly been mass sterilized against their will. They cheer all the same. So much for their legitimate concerns that Israel is antisemitic in of itself I guess?

If the solution to a problem faced by a minority group within a country is "destroy their country which they also believe has saved them from ethnic cleansing and mass death, and figure out the rest later," you're not an ally to that group; stop pretending you are!

This is tied into pinkwashing, but from a sort of opposite approach. If any societal progress that Israel makes for minority groups is a psyop and a marketing ploy to cover up Palestinian Genocide, the concern trolling is antizionists holding Israel hostage to any societal progress it has not made. But they never intend on letting Israel improve these relationships. Israel is too nice to gay Jews, and not nice enough to African Jews. The only course of action therefore, is to let Hamas butcher them alongside straight Jews and "European" Jews.

So if you see someone trying to engage in this game, ignore them! Your time is worth so much more, and the vulnerable minority groups of Jews (both in Israel and the Diaspora) are much safer with Jews who discriminate against them than goyim who tout social justice rhetoric but want to see them dead. Plus, so many Jews are already doing the work, learning and listening, and trying to improve. This enrages the concern trolls like nothing else.

Call out Israel's bigotries, but you know, maybe don't trust the people who aren't affected by those bigotries invading your space and demanding your allyship to groups of people they'd be content seeing die en masse. Like "Israel is actually antisemitic against this vulnerable group of Jews!" and "All Israelis are settlers, none are truly civilians, and any form of violence against settlers is justified" are two stances that do not mesh very well...

Because at the very least, they're separating good Jews from bad Jews again, just based on what they perceive intra-Jewish oppression to be like. And they expect these good Jews to cheer and happily live as dhimmis in the absolute chaos that is a 100% inevitable Hamas-Fatah civil war and total societal collapse... and spit on the graves of their kinsmen.

And at worst, the concern trolls won't bother distinguishing these vulnerable Jews from their alleged oppressors anyway, and happily watch as they all flee with the clothes on their backs or get gunned down or enslaved by Hamas "Resistance" Fighters.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, smut mndi, chronic pain mention, I always feel like my confessions are awk so sorry if you think this one is too

note for minors: a lot of this chapter is smut, but you can read up until the red line without worrying about it. There's no summary this time because it really is just smut for smut's sake and all the character development happens before it starts, so you won't need it for the plot. There is one vague mention of boners before the red line (sorry it's just for a laugh), but that's it

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

You catch on quickly to what’s happened between Sirius and Remus. What you don’t understand is why they’ve interrupted it to come talk to you. And how you could be wrong twice—do they cancel out if you were truly right the first time? 

Clearly, the chemistry you’d felt between Remus and Sirius wasn’t imagined. You’d convinced yourself you must’ve gotten your wires crossed—otherwise why would Remus have kissed you?—but evidently they’ve come to some sort of agreement. Are they here to ask for your permission? Intra-team fornicating: approved. 

You’re not sure if you wish they’d waited until they were less hard to pop by. 

“Um.” You keep your eyes very intentionally on the boys’ faces. “What’s up?” 

Sirius looks almost nervous, skittish even, but Remus’ hand wraps around his to pull him closer to your doorway. Your heart does something funny in your chest. 

“Could we talk?” Sirius asks. 

“Er…yeah. Of course.” You step aside, letting them into your small room. Remus sits politely on the edge of your bed, giving you deja vu from the night before, while Sirius makes himself comfortable further back. He leans his side into your pillow where it’s propped up on the wall. 

“We were talking,” starts Remus, “and I told Sirius about what happened between us.” 

Your next breath seems to come slower. Unwillingly, your gaze flits to Sirius, but he looks impassive, only like he might be scrutinizing you in turn. You look back at Remus. “You did?” 

“I did,” he says gently. “But it wasn’t—” 

“Babe,” Sirius interrupts, “don’t look so freaked. What’s the matter? And why are you still standing there?” 

You realize you’re hugging yourself around your middle, standing awkwardly in front of the bed. “I’m not sure it’s meant to hold three people,” you say weakly. 

Sirius snorts, whatever nervousness he’d arrived with vanishing. Sirius has always been good this way; he can only ever panic when no one else is, but the second you’re panicking too he’s all ease. 

“Don’t be silly.” He pats the space between himself and Remus. It’s as ample as the bed allows, which isn’t saying much. “It’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s your bed.” 

You can’t think of a good reason to argue. Something in you calms as you settle in between them, Sirius’ hip touching yours and the warmth of Remus’ body on your other side. It’s familiar, safe. 

“Are you upset?” you ask Sirius. 

His brows pinch. “Why would I be?” 

“Because…” You cringe. “Aren’t you two…?”

“There’s been a lot of confusion, I think,” Remus says kindly. “But when we were talking, we both sort of came to the realization that we fancy each other…and you.” 

There’s a dense pause. 

“And me?” you echo. 

Remus’ lips tilt slightly. “Yes.” 

“As in…” You rub your eyes, dumbfounded. “Sorry, I did just wake up.” 

Sirius laughs. Remus too, reaching over to rub your knee like he can’t help himself. 

“For the record, I didn’t plan any of this,” says Sirius, “but if I had, I’d have done it exactly this way. It’s very gratifying to finally disturb your sleep schedules the way you pricks have been doing to me all these weeks.” 

“Oi,” Remus chides teasingly, reaching over you to push at Sirius’ thigh. You marvel at this new easiness between them, now given even newer context. “Anyway, we thought we’d come see if you might be interested.” 

“In…you.” You rub your lips together, looking between them and noticing Sirius’ gaze has fallen to your mouth. Unless you’re terribly mistaken and you’ve got it all wrong, this means he fancies you as well. Your partner, your best friend. 

The idea isn’t as upsetting as it ought to be. 

Do you fancy him too? You’ve never thought about Sirius in that way. You love him, of course, but you’ve never taken the time to parse out if it might be a different sort of love than the kind between friends. And as for the rest—well, who wouldn’t be attracted to Sirius? You’re only human. 

“In both of us, yes,” Remus confirms patiently. 

“Is that something you’d be into?” Sirius asks. 

Your answer leaves you on a breath, thoughtless but true. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius grins. 

You nod. You’re suddenly fixated by the way his cupid’s bow flattens out when he smiles like that. It’s something you’ve noticed a thousand times before, but now…

“Yeah,” you say again. “Um…what do we do?” 

Remus chuckles. “I don’t really know. I’ve not been with two people before.” 

“Believe it or not, this is a first for me as well,” Sirius says lightly. 

“Right,” you laugh. It breaks up some of the apprehension in your chest. 

“If you want to,” Remus’ voice softens, “I suppose you could start by kissing him.” 

You look at him, then at Sirius. For the first time, something like insecurity flashes across his face. 

“You don’t have to,” he says quietly. No longer the brazen flirt, but the kind, considerate boy you know. “It’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply. 

It’s like he’s afraid to touch you until you get to him. You steady yourself with a hand on his jaw, your other pressing into the mattress as you lean towards where he’s reclined against your pillow and bring your lips to his. 

You know all the ways that Sirius moves, and even this new, completely uncharted part of him is consistent. Sirius’ kisses start out slow, probing, feeling out what you like and what he can do, but then he gives himself over to it. His hands find first your hips, urging you closer to him before one slides to the small of your back. Greedy fingers curl in the fabric of your pajama top. 

You make a small, accidental sound in the back of your throat when his teeth tease your bottom lip, and Sirius pulls away. You’re both breathing hard. 

Sirius stares at you for a weighted moment before his eyes drift behind you and he huffs out a laugh. “Enjoyed that, did you?” 

You look over your shoulder, and Remus is watching you both with a low flame burning in his gaze. He flushes a tad at the question but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward, kissing you, tasting Sirius on your lips. 

───────────────────────────────────────────

The three of you don’t need to speak much to communicate. Remus pulls you back into him, his length hardening against your ass, and Sirius follows. He kisses Remus over your shoulder with a relieved sort of sigh. All the while, his hands are roving your thighs, pushing up your pajama shorts until they crease and pinch at your crotch. 

You exhale and tilt your head to the side when Remus drops his lips to your neck. “We have a competition tomorrow,��� you remind them both. “We ought to be resting up.” 

You feel Sirius’ grin as he brings his mouth to yours again. “Yup.” He nips your bottom lip. “I’m aware this is a bad idea.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t condone it,” Remus agrees, one hand covering your ribs while the other sneaks down to tease the waist of your pajama shorts.Your poor shorts are being attacked from both sides. “How far do you want to go?” 

Sirius pulls his lips from yours to watch you think. They still tingle, and you rub them together unconsciously. His eyes darken. 

“You drive me mad when you do that,” he says. 

“Do what?” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. He brings his thumb to your lower lip, pressing down on it gently. His own lips are swollen and gleaming prettily with spit, eyes nearly all pupil. Remus’ hand strokes lazily at your side. 

“I want to go as far as you guys want to,” you say without breaking Sirius’ gaze. 

His grin widens, and he looks at Remus, shrugging. “We could just go until somebody says stop.” 

“Alright,” says Remus. One of his hands leaves you, finger hooking in the waist of Sirius’ trousers. “Can we take these off, then?” 

Sirius isn’t shy, but you didn’t think he would be. He sits up on his knees and pulls them down, letting Remus help them over his ankles before they’re discarded in a heap on the floor. Remus gets rid of his too, and then you’re staring at the outlines of both boys through the far thinner material of their underwear. 

Remus ghosts a touch over Sirius’ cock, making the other boy’s expression pinch with want, before pulling down the waistband. Lithe, graceful muscles and hip bones curving inwards. Sirius curses as Remus’ long fingers wrap around him. 

Remus pumps slowly, his own arousal an insistent heat at your hip. You find your attention torn between the feeling of his body against your backside and the sultry droop of Sirius’ eyelids as he watches Remus work his cock. 

“Doesn’t he look pretty?” Remus murmurs. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s speaking to you. “Yeah.” Your mouth feels dry. You swallow, and watch as Sirius’ eyes flit up to the motion. “He always does.” 

Remus hums in agreement, pressing a light kiss to an exposed bit of skin beside the neckline of your top. “Do you want to try, lovely?” 

You turn your head to look at him. Remus’ eyes are glued to Sirius. “What about you?” 

A chuckle, and another soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll be alright.” 

Remus waits until your hand is around Sirius’ shaft, pumping a couple times against his own fist, before letting go. You choose a slightly less languid pace than Remus had. Sirius twitches in your grasp, taking your face in his hands and setting his lips to yours with a muffled groan. 

Behind you, Remus moves closer until his length is pressed against your ass. One of his hands steadies you by the hip while the other dips below the waistband of your shorts, palming you through your underwear. You shift, and he hisses when you move against him. 

You turn your head on instinct, Sirius’ lips smudging across your cheek. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is breathy, amused. “You just surprised me.” 

“What’d she do?” Sirius is never one to be left out of the loop. 

“Just backed into me.” 

“Oh. Gorgeous,” he smiles, turning you by the chin to capture your lips again, “who wouldn’t want that?” 

Their praise soon has you devolving into a thoughtless, sensory creature. Sirius’ hands caress your face and neck and Remus’ fingers brush your panties aside to toy with your cunt. Every movement of your hips makes him push more insistently against you. Your shirt comes off, Remus dotting your shoulders with sweet kisses. Your grip tightens on Sirius’ cock, and a low, needy sound tears out of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.” 

Your heart flutters at the endearment, but you don’t let your movements stall. Soon he’s pushing his hips into your hand, kisses turning messy and desperate, your own sounds harder to suppress as Remus bullies your clit with two fingers. You’re glad to know at least Sirius’ room is empty on your other side, because you’re beginning to wonder how thick these walls are. Remus pushes his length into the crease between your asscheeks through your shorts, Sirius’ cock beginning to twitch in your hand, and you press your lips together to contain a sound that promises to be both loud and mortifying—and the bed collapses. 

You fall backwards onto Remus as the cardboard on his end gives out, sending all three of you to the floor. Sirius’ teeth knock into yours and Remus catches you around the waist with both hands, keeping you from fully sitting on his hard cock. 

“Fuck.” Sirius brings a hand to his mouth. “What the fuck?” 

“Oh, shit.” You scramble away from Remus, onto the floor. Both boys look at you in alarm. You’re looking to where Remus’ leg is bent underneath him, not at a terribly cruel angle, but still— “Your hip. Is your hip okay?” 

“Oh.” Remus glances down as though he’s forgotten it himself, realization dawning over his features. 

“Fuck,” Sirius breaths, remembering as well. His hand moves toward Remus but lingers in the air, afraid of hurting him. 

“It’s…yeah, it’s okay,” says Remus. His eyes meet yours. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

Sirius’ brows pinch, but his hand makes it the rest of the way, rubbing tentatively over Remus’ hip joint. “Are you sure?” 

Remus shifts slowly, sitting up off his knees to move closer to Sirius. “I’m sure.” A little smile graces his lips. “You worried about me, Pads?” 

Sirius’ face splits in the sort of grin you can only ever surprise out of him. “Fuck off,” he laughs, pushing Remus away when he tries to kiss him. Remus catches Sirius’ hands, his own smile unfurling slowly, almost unwillingly. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How sweet,” he hums, smug. 

You find yourself smiling at them both, your heart a balloon in your chest. 

“Okay.” You give the mattress a little tug. “In that case, could you guys get off?”

“What’re you doing?” Remus asks. Both he and Sirius move. 

“Having this on a slant doesn’t seem like a good idea, so I’m moving it.” 

It should be awkward, this break in the tension, but maybe it’s because you’re so used to working as a team that it isn’t. You all get the mattress situated on the floor, and then you’re dragging Remus’ underwear off, his hands moving kind and doting over the lengths of your arms. He inhales a small breath as Sirius takes his cock into his mouth. 

You watch Sirius’ lips move up and down his shaft, his eyes dark and growing shiny as he takes Remus as far as he can. You aren’t quite sure how to contribute, but when you rub the inside of Sirius’ thigh tentatively both boys moan. You take that to mean you’re on the right track. 

The muscles in Sirius’ back flex as he raises and lowers his head between Remus’ legs, mouth growing wet with spit and slick, and it’s not long before Remus’ fingers are curling in Sirius’ hair, curses spewing from between his lips in a Welsh accent you’ve not heard before. You can’t help but follow them back to the source, kissing Remus just before he cums down Sirius’ throat. He grips you by the arms with something like desperation. You’re happy to stay as the tension unwinds from his body, until his hands are moving down you, smoothing across the skin just above the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you planning on keeping those on all night?” 

It’s Sirius who asks, his gaze sultry as he watches Remus’ finger skim just underneath the fabric covering your ass. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a thumb. 

“How’s this?” Remus suggests. He pulls you gently into his lap, situating you between his legs with your back against his chest. Again, you can feel the impression of him pressed against your backside. 

Your voice comes out weak. “This is good.” 

He chuckles, soothing a hand down your side while Sirius grins. Sirius’ fingers grasp the elastics of both your shorts and your underwear. “Okay?” he asks you. 

You nod. 

He takes his time working them down your legs and off your ankles, his eyes locking on your exposed cunt and the arousal Remus has coaxed out of you already. Remus, too, is watching over your shoulder. His fingers gravitate back to it, dragging slick up through your folds idly, almost worshipfully. He kisses behind your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re lovely,” says Sirius. 

Both boys’ gazes stay glued to your cunt as Sirius positions himself over you, pushing into your warmth. You bite down on a small sound. Remus tuts at you, his hand spreading reassuringly over your navel. 

“You can do better than that,” he chides. “Don’t think we don’t want to hear you.” 

Sirius holds your hips as he sinks into you. His fingers dent your flesh, and you marvel at the fact that you’ve wasted so much time not doing this. That you’ve ever been in a room with either Remus or Sirius and managed not to kiss them dizzy. You’re not sure you’ll be able to manage it again. 

Remus draws slow, tight circles around your clit with his finger. You arch your neck back onto his shoulder, and Sirius groans as you tighten on him. 

“God—you’re so perfect,” he says hoarsely. “You feel so good.” 

Your reply gets lost on a lewd sound as he drags his cock along your walls. Remus kisses you rewardingly in the soft skin underneath your ear. “There you are,” he says. “Good girl.” 

Warmth unfurls through your gut. 

Sirius grins whatever reaction must show up on your face, his hands migrating to your ass as he thrusts into you. As he gets rougher, so do Remus’ ministrations to your clit, his slow circles turning quick and jagged. You feel yourself tighten on Sirius in little flutters that have him gripping you tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises. 

“Fuck, like that, yeah. Just like that, baby.” 

Your lips part at the pet name and Sirius’ eyes flick up to yours like he’s surprised too, like he’s let slip something he didn’t mean to. But you say, “come here,” and he goes, leaning over you to let you take his face in your hands and kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

Remus feels your high approaching before you do. His free hand smooths over the inside of your twitching thigh. 

“Are you close?” he asks you. 

Sirius parts his lips from yours, looking down to see the confirmation on your face. You give it.

“Good,” he says, picking up his pace, “good, sweetheart, that’s it. Cum for me, yeah? I’ve got you.” 

You nearly bite your lip in half when you do, Remus tsking amusedly and kissing your neck while the tightening of your cunt threatens to send Sirius over the edge as well. He starts to pull out of you, but you grab his hand. 

“It’s okay,” you manage. “In me.” 

“Really?” he asks in a strangled voice. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. Sirius’ expression pinches like you’ve said something cruel as he thrusts into you one last time, a shock that reverberates through you as he warms you from the inside out. He’s rigid for a few seconds before tipping forward, his head to your shoulder and to Remus' chest, which you’ve slipped down without noticing. His breath fans softly over your skin. 

Remus rubs your thigh comfortingly and with his other hand pets down Sirius’ hair, cupping his flushed cheek. “Alright, love?” he asks. 

Sirius’ blush seems to worsen. “Yeah. You?” 

“More than.” Remus kisses his head. 

It’s only after a few seconds of silence that you realize Remus’ question was posed to the both of you. 

“That was…” you shake your head, at a loss “...fantastic.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius nudges his nose into your skin. “I thought so.” 

Remus’ chuckle rumbles through all three of you. “Cocky,” he says fondly. 

“And decent enough with it, by all reports.” 

It starts up a round of sweet, half teasing kisses Sirius pretends to want to escape despite making no real efforts to do so. You give and receive plenty of your own, until not just your lips and shoulders but many other parts of you are wet with spit and slick. You fall asleep all three on a twin mattress on the floor, your head on Remus’ chest and Sirius’ arms wound around your middle. It might be the best sleep you’ve ever had.

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

Here I am back at it again with the Boueibu food analyses //bricked

I’ve been staring at the Melon Monster for years, trying to unpack what “the melon was just playing melon” and “melons are tops” meant because it’s definitely interesting wording, but nothing was coming up… until I came across a collection of articles and videos talking about the Yubari King Melon, a hybrid cantaloupe that has been specifically cultivated for its desired traits and is subsequently considered “the best melon” in Japan.

To be considered a top-grade melon, one must be perfectly round and have an exceptionally smooth rind. Upon harvest, part of the stem is left on top to add to its aesthetic appeal. [x]

Hmmmm don’t you look familiar!

As the Melon Monster alludes to, the Japanese fruit industry is an interesting rabbit hole to fall down, but this video offers a pretty good insight into the Yubari melon specifically.

According to this article, the Prince melon was developed in Japan and first sold in 1961, gaining immediate popularity in average households due to its low price. On the opposite end of the melon spectrum, the Yubari melon (developed in 1951) is exclusively grown in Yubari, Hokkaido and is so expensive it is considered a luxury fruit, which is in no small part due to its limited availability each year and sought after sweetness/aroma. Yubari melons are often given as gifts to show appreciation during the summer gift-giving season Ochugen and there are annual auctions where pairs of these melons regularly sell for millions of yen.

Furthermore, according to another article I found, the history of melons in Japan goes all the way back to the Makuwa (oriental melon), which Uriya gets his name from and which allegedly came to Japan during the Yayoi period (3rd century BC to 3rd century) via China. How prestigious! That certainly explains the choice of costume and no wonder the poor Melon Monster remarks that his existence is anachronistic when told by his peers that melon is just another fruit nowadays!

Here he is, trying his best to be a Yubari melon, cherry-picking what he thinks are his best and most interesting traits in an attempt to meet the expectations of others around him as someone with value, and the Battle Lovers immediately curb stomp every single one of his efforts by not only outsmarting him in the most effortless way possible (using the internet to solve his riddles and surviving his traps as though they were a children's obstacle course) but mistaking him for a common melon. The melon (Makuwa) was only playing melon… playing at something he could never hope to be… pretending that anyone could ever see value in him. But he is only an ordinary melon, so why would anyone go the extra mile for that?

[With this in mind, I feel like this monster must have sprung into existence as a result of a conversation about the popularity of melons similar to the origin of the Chikuwabu Monster (many thanks again to @intra-fiducia for the wonderful translations!! <3). XD]

On a side note, I wrote briefly about the paulownia box being a representation of how Uriya is trapped by his own anxieties and self-consciousness in his attempt to meet everyone’s expectations, but I didn’t realize that sometimes the gift of melon is delivered very cutely in one. So there’s an extra layer to that line about no longer needing to stay in one! Melon can be enjoyed in many forms and varieties, like the Battle Lovers said! He doesn’t have to be the best because the people who like melon pan, melon soda, and shaved ice will like him just the same for what he already is.

[apocrypals]

Is there a way to tell which Latin words derive or are borrowed from Ancient Greek?

There’s no one simple way other than of course learning Greek, which may or may not fit your definition of simple

One trick is to look for certain letters or letter combinations that are not common in Latin outside of transliterations from Greek. Y and z are almost exclusively used in Greek loan words, and ch, ph, and th are often indicators of a Greek word, but not invariably so. A native Latin word is not likely to start with a letter combination like pn, ps, mn, or even just x. K is in the Roman alphabet pretty much only because of Greek, but even then the Greek kappa is usually transliterated with a c.

There are also some endings that signify a Greek origin and often lead to a noun having an irregular declension pattern. These will typically be names, but nouns ending in -os, -as, or -e in the nominative singular are probably Greek. -on usually gets Latinized as -um when borrowed, but not always, and that’s a good sign of a Greek loaner.

You can also familiarize yourself with common Greek prefixes and other word elements, which is probably the most helpful thing to do.

All of these come from Greek:

amphi- (Latin equivalent is ambi-)

ana-

anti- (Latin contra-)

apo- (Latin ab-)

cata-

dia- (Latin per-)

dys-

endo- (Latin intra-)

epi-

eu- (Latin bene-)

ecto- (Latin extra-)

hyper- (Latin super-)

hypo- (Latin sub-)

meta-

para-

peri- (Latin circum-)

syn- (Latin con/com/col/cor/co-)

Hope that at least gives you a small start!

[chaninfused]

The Altar of Angels | Lee Minho

◤“If the jester wanted to play, then the Prince of the Underworld would happily oblige.” In which a mafia heir seeks the aid of a wildcard to upturn his court. ◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. Chapter five from the ‘dead men don’t speak’ series. Enemies to worse enemies (seriously, there’s not a shred of affection between them, only toxicity). Action and angst. Descriptions of violence, death, blood, and injury. Usage of vulgar language. ◤Word count: 3.3K ◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction and do not reflect the idols' true characters. Please do not take my content without my consent. Masterlist. ◤From the author: I'm sorry for the long pause! It took me longer than expected to get back into the groove of writing, but we're back, and I wish you happy reading!

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The Prince of the Underworld had learned many lessons at thirteen. Most notable was the revelation that his life was merely a game of cards. Every person had their pre-assigned place in the deck, and he played them all with a serpent’s ease and a devil’s grin.

A restless mastermind, Minho survived by being in control, and it seemed that his guest was keenly aware of that fact.

He glanced at his silver watch. Seven minutes past the meeting time. He’d known that this alliance was never going to be peaceful when he sent that invitation.

Still, he was patient. Two could play this game if his valued guest so desired.

Ten minutes.

He was sure it was on cue when the doors swung open right then and his guest strode in, that infamous burgundy coat billowing around her, her entourage of one man tailing behind her. She was all too relaxed when she met his gaze, faux apology leaving her lips, “My, what a maze this place is!”

The legs of the chair opposite to him screeched against the floor, but she didn’t seem to care as she flopped onto the leathery cushions, tossing a familiar envelope his way.

“So,” her eyes didn’t crinkle when she smiled, “Do spill. Where did you find the spine to summon me like one of your lackeys?”

Straight to the point, huh?

Minho wanted to laugh. She was just as he’d expected.

A Joker card.

Unruly, unpredictable, and incredibly special. If the jester wanted to play, then the Prince of the Underworld would happily oblige.

“I believe our meeting was supposed to happen at eleven. Seeing as to how it’s ten past that now, I think I’ll be taking my leave,” Minho remarked coolly, barely rising from his seat when the air next to his ear whistled as a bullet tore through.  

“Stay put, will you?”

He mentally cursed at his body for freezing involuntarily. Of course she’d be the type of madwoman to shoot at him in a room full of his men. Any closer, and it would have been his brain matter splattered on the pristine walls alongside the imbedded bullet.

“I did have to make a long journey here, so make it worthwhile, your highness.”

Her mockery didn’t go unnoticed, though the real mockery was the desperation that made him ignore that address and hold her cold gaze. He didn’t know if it was stupidity or confidence that made her and her second so nonchalant despite the guns aimed at them for the transgression.

Minho remained standing. “I’m not fond of tardy people, miss Y/n.”

“And I don’t like to be ordered around, but I guess we can’t all have it our way,” she twirled her handgun lazily, eyes and words sharp.  

Touché.

Minho supposed this made the two of them even, so he decided to let it go, motioning for his guards to lower their arms as he reclaimed his seat.

“I called you here because I would like to propose an alliance between us,” he began once he had settled.

“And what purpose would that serve exactly?”

“My uncle has been running Taunt to the ground lately,” he leaned back into the leather chair, voice dropping, “I think it’s time he fell.”

“Not interested in your intra-organization power struggles,” she shrugged in immediate dismissal. “Besides, it seems to me you’re forgetting the agents Taunt had planted to assassinate me and the Right Claw two weeks ago.”

“That is precisely why this alliance benefits both you and me,” Minho stressed. “My uncle was reckless enough to attack you and spur the Shadow Front’s wrath—against my express advice, I’ll have you know. I want him and his moronic execs gone before my organization is destroyed, and I’m sure you want payback for the hospital.”

She glanced at her second in command, an unspoken exchange flitting between them, before pointing out, “And you think associating yourself with the Shadow Front is gonna fly with the rest of your people?”

Of course it wouldn’t fly. The animosity between Taunt and the Shadow Front was as ancient as the sun and the moon, but the Seraph’s Ring was becoming impatient.

“I don’t plan to associate myself with the Shadow Front,” he corrected, “I’m associating myself with Shiver."

The Six Claws were the highest-ranking individuals in the Shadow Front, and their power allowed them to create their own divisions or even found their own sub-organizations, so long as they answered to their Boss at the end of the day.

Shiver was one such sub-organization, belonging to none other than the Left Claw who sat across from him, murmuring to herself, “I see.”

“Well… I do agree that the executives should perish,” she finally said, and Minho nodded, “And I won’t stand in your way when the time comes. Do we have a deal, then?”

The room held its breath, and then she laughed, “Sure. I’ll kill your boss for you.”

Minho exhaled.

He had done it. The King of Diamonds would finally topple.

“But what do I get out of this?” her question shattered his moment of triumph.

Eyes sparkling with amusement, she rested her elbow against the armrest of her chair and propped her head against her palm. “It isn’t like I actually need your permission to take revenge if I wanted to.”

But of course, Minho wasn’t so naive.

“I’ll give you free access to Port Three for a year.”

“Two years.”

She hadn’t missed a beat, still boring into him with those unnervingly bright eyes as though nothing in this world could ever be worth taking seriously. Her drawl dripped with poison, “Two years or I make a beeline out of here to your uncle’s office and tell him about his little traitor of a nephew.”

Right.

Port Three was under Minho’s control, and the charges he collected from it were only a small portion of his fortune. He could afford to relinquish control temporarily.

“Fine,” he yielded, perfectly composed, and that same grin stretched her lips again, not quite reaching her eyes.

“Nice doing business with you.”

Hatred was a mistress of many faces, and Minho was familiar with all of them. The Left Claw smiled and her second was expressionless, but Minho saw it.

Those two despised him to their very cores.

It mattered to him none.

He had his flimsy alliance and he finally had her.

A Joker card to add to his collection.

•⭓•

Minho wasn’t born a prince.

He’d been nothing one day, and then he was the chosen son of one of the most powerful men in the underworld, the closest thing to royalty among criminals.

And it was only right that the King’s son be raised a Prince. Blessed, untouchable, divine, he could have the very sky that you were now captivated by in his palms if he so wished.

“Haunting, isn’t it?” he remarked as he approached the balustrade where you stood with your second, so still as if meditating. The stars were invisible tonight, but the moon was a bleeding orb of light and terrifyingly close. It had a presence that sent a shiver down his spine, as though it were an omen. A promise of bloodshed.

“That’s not the word I’d use,” you scoffed, turning away from the balustrade to face him. You wore an altered version of your notorious coat, sharply cut to suit the party, and a displeased frown. “Let’s get this over with already.”

You didn’t care to wait for his response before stalking toward the grand doors, and Minho caught up to you with ease. The two of you walking in together would be a statement, and it would create just the kind of fuss needed to ruffle his uncle’s feathers.

More than that, actually. It would set the King of Diamonds’ metaphorical plumage on fire, and the thought of that almost made Minho dizzy with excitement.

The sea of dark suits seemed to still, conversation dying and voices falling into a hush upon your entrance into the hall. He stifled a victorious smirk at the scene.

It worked like a charm.

Every gaze was a spear that directed at you, and Minho felt it then, a gaze hotter and sharper than the rest. The Cardinal Ring, fuming with betrayal and unbridled rage.

They all recognized that deep, reddish color—the Joker card at his side.

You paid them no mind, marching through a crowd that parted for you almost naturally, and Minho matched your pace until your path collided with his uncle and his three executives, huddling close to one another as though to intimidate the two of you.

“You have some nerve, Minho,” his uncle all but spat at him, his name sounding like a curse from his lips.

He only smiled cordially, coldly, in response. “I’m afraid I disagree, sir.”

His uncle seethed silently, snapping his eyes to glare at you. Minho knew he wouldn’t make a scene with him so publicly, but you were a known enemy, so you weren’t spared when he jeered at you, “What, that one-eyed brute finally bored you? Cozying up to your enemies for some excitement?”

You didn’t so much as blink at his provocations. Lips pressed into a flat line, you leveled him with a look so unamused that it stilled the air. Only your second in command expressed any semblance of agitation, a lone vein twitching in his jaw.

Han Jisung was his name. A Jack card, so loyal to his boss.

Silence yawned between the two of you, a depthless canyon, so thoroughly uncomfortable it caused Minho’s skin to prickle. It felt like hours, though realistically, he knew it was a mere few seconds before his uncle scoffed a swear under his breath and turned away with his posse.

You watched them disappear into the crowd for good measure and then faced the direction you had come from. “Let’s go, Han.”

“You’re leaving?” Minho was a little surprised, and you gave him a withering glare.

“I only came here to piss off your uncle, and we’ve done that. Your company doesn’t interest me otherwise. Goodbye."

Minho could only watch as your burgundy coat melted into the mass of black suits. He might’ve been offended at your curt dismissal, and maybe he should’ve, but Minho found the grace in his heart to forgive you.

After all, the Joker, the harbinger of chaos, had but a single instinct driving their every action.

Bloodlust.

He would entertain your antics because as long as he wielded your insatiable craving for bloodshed, you were practically dancing in his palms.

•⭓•

Kings were made to fall.

Minho also learned that at thirteen, when he cradled his father’s cold body in his arms. The King of Spades, he’d later dubbed him. Mighty, boundless. Fallible.

The current boss, his uncle, was also a King and so were his executives. It was a fitting assessment because he had to fall too, for the sake of Taunt’s survival.

That was why Minho considered himself a perfect ‘one’. An Ace. He would only rise, like an angel outstretching a hand for the salvation of humanity.

Blessed, untouchable, divine.

His faction was thus aptly named the Seraph’s Ring, and they had become ravenous beasts praying on his uncle’s downfall.

The doors of the meeting room burst open when Minho charged in, quipping without a drop of lightheartedness, “What’s this? A secret club meeting?”

The stunned faces of his uncle and his three executives greeted him. The Cardinal Ring looked as though they had been caught red-handed.

“I wonder, did our invite get lost in the mail?” Minho sneered as he ambled in, followed by the two other executives who constituted his faction.

Sitting at the head of the long table, Taunt’s boss hissed, “You have no right to sit at this table after sleeping with the shadow bastards.”

What a vulgar mouth.

“I slept with nobody," Minho deadpanned as he dropped into his usual seat. "Your problem has always been that you’re severely short-sighted.”

One of the Cardinal executives slammed a fist against the table, features contorting in anger. “You arrogant little—”

“I learned something interesting.”

Minho savored the small victory of their silence at his announcement. They were all the same at the end of the day.

Vultures.

“Those shadow bastards have quite the deal to close with Six-Six,” he wielded the foreign organization’s name like weapon and saw the executives' eyes darken in response. “Three hundred million dollars or something along those lines.”

“I hear the Claws will be in attendance too,” Minho leaned back, triumphant when he met his uncle’s hungry gaze, “Doesn’t that excite you, uncle?”

“So this was your play all along?” his boss huffed his surprise.

“I’m not as airheaded as you think I am.”

Once again, Minho had played a flawless hand. He could practically see the schemes brewing in his uncle’s head.

“Two weeks from now. Two in the afternoon,” he smiled, drinking in his sweet, sweet greed. “I’m sure Six-Six doesn’t care who meets them at the West Port.”

Foolishness was the downfall of all Kings.

•⭓•

The rusty aluminum ceiling of warehouse 5B would be the last thing Taunt's boss would see. What fine taste you had.

Mino’s gaze roved over the space and the abandoned containers lining its walls. “And you’re sure no one will interrupt us here?”

“Yeah,” you said behind him. “Just make sure your boss shows his face.”

“He will.”

That man was a slave to his greed. Minho was more than glad to pull his leash into this trap.

“And the execs?” you asked.

“They’ll likely stay behind. Wouldn’t want to dim his spotlight.”

 “Right.”

You were as riveted by the plan as one would be by an ant crossing the pavement. It ticked him off, just barely.

“You’re awfully relaxed,” Minho commented as you strolled past him.

“What, haven’t killed a man before?” you paused to side-eye him. “No wonder you sought outside help.”

“Hey.”

“Or wait, there was that cruise incident last year, right?”

His blood chilled. Too late did he notice the sly grin on your lips. He’d basically confirmed your claim with his silence.   

Damn it.

“How did you know about that?” Minho demanded. He had ensured that the coverup was flawless, that it could never be traced back to him.

So how—

“A little fox whispers to me.” you shrugged, resuming your aimless walk. “Anyway, let’s go over your sob story again.”

That fox must have been your informant, and quite the skilled one. Minho bit back his frustration. It didn’t seem like you planned to use the information against him anyway.

“You purposefully fed me wrong information and made me lead the boss here. You then ambushed us and killed him as revenge,” he recited.

“Exactly! I betrayed you,” you lamented mockingly. “Poor Prince of the Underworld.”

Poor Joker card, he thought in response.

The hatred in your gaze never shied from the light, but it was pointless. No matter how much you fought him, you would never be able to truly betray him.

For only he held the cards in this game.

•⭓•

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

There was blood on the ground, seeping from bodies long still, pooling until it appeared like an extension of your burgundy coat. Four bodies, crumpled unceremoniously, and you stood in the midst of the carnage like a Reaper. 

This wasn’t the place the two of you had agreed on. These weren’t the victims the two of you had agreed on.

“What the fuck did you do?” the shout tore from Minho’s lungs, blistering and painful, colliding with your back which you still gave to him.

He saw your shoulders raise and drop.

“I told you they had to perish.”

“You killed them all!” a roar sounded from somewhere seemingly outside his body. Minho couldn’t tell, couldn’t think.

They were dead. They were all dead.

He stumbled and his legs gave out, splattering him in the blood of the executives of the Cardinal Ring when his knees met the ground.

This wasn’t my plan. This wasn’t my play.

You half turned toward him, that smile of utter distaste on your lips. Pity burned in your eyes. “It’s personal, don’t feel too bad.”

Personal? His stomach twisted and threatened to empty itself out on the ground. Minho’s assessments were never wrong. The Joker card was bloodthirsty, and that thirst was easy to control. It should’ve made the finest tool out of you.

So why—

His hands moved before he could process the thought, his instincts taking over.

A wildcard ruins the entire deck.

His gun was warm in his hands, and he aimed it at your head.

You can’t continue to exist, Joker.  

He might have been too late in realizing it, but he saw it now. You were a threat Minho couldn’t afford to ignore.

There was a step before he felt the barrel of a gun press against his temple.

“Wanna test my reaction time?” Jisung’s voice was void of humor and he ordered, “Drop the gun.”

It was futile. The moment Minho’s finger twitched on the trigger, his life would be snuffed out. He likely wouldn’t even see you fall before that. His resolve splintered and cracked, and his aim fell lower and lower until his weapon clattered on the bloody ground.

Jisung kicked the gun away instantly, and Minho felt a scream clawing its way through his throat.

But it was barely a whisper that left his lips, “Why…”

He wanted his uncle dead, yes, but not his executives. As much as he despised the Cardinal Ring, he needed its members alive to keep Taunt stable. There was no way he could avoid a revolt now.

His father’s kingdom. His family.

Taunt would destroy itself, and you would dance over its grave.

“You ruined everything,” he spat, hoping the words stung as he glared at your relaxed form. There was no hint of violence on your person. Your hair was undisturbed and your coat was pristine. No bruise nor blood marred your skin. There was only light in your gaze.

Blessed, untouchable, divine.

Corrupt.

“And who’s to blame for that?” you wondered aloud. “You were the one who led me right into your den, or did you forget that already?”

Minho had done just that. He even promised not to stand in your way.

A mistake so terrible, it would haunt him for the remainder of his days.

His distress must’ve shown because you frowned, disappointed, disgusted, even, “You’re still incredibly boring—”

An explosion shook the earth below you, deafening, and you immediately looked to your second. Alert with your gun ready for attack, you uttered a single word of command, “Han.”

He moved wordlessly, a specter drifting over the corpses as he made his way toward the shabby window of this warehouse. A few seconds later, he declared in the suffocating silence of the explosion’s aftermath, “It came from 5B.”

Minho’s heart sputtered. He didn’t remember setting up any bombs there, and judging from the grim shift in your expression, you didn’t either.   

“Didn’t he say he would be scouting the area?” you asked, and your second answered as he returned to your side, “He did, yes.”

“Well, then. I guess I’m glad I took his advice and changed locations,” you shrugged after a moment’s thought, stuffing your hands in your coat pockets and beginning to make your way to the exit. “Let’s hope we don’t meet again, Prince of the Underworld.”

Minho didn’t have the spirit to bite back. He had become a plummeting angel, his wings torn and his halo dimmed. He grappled with the realization that perhaps he’d been wrong all along.

Alone, surrounded by the corpses of his arrogance, Minho screamed until his mind’s pandemonium ceased.

Maybe Kings weren’t the only ones made to fall.

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Thank you for reading this far! We're nearing the plot's apex, so a lot of answers will be revealed in the upcoming few chapters. I would love to hear your thoughts! A reblog and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you have a spectacular day, and I'll see you next week for chapter six! ♡

[intuspluric-culture-is]

Blog Introduction

Hello! Welcome to our very own "___ culture is" blog. We hadn't seen any for this topic yet, so we decided to make it ourselves! In this post, we'll explain what this is all about and the rules we have in place before you can think about sending anything.

So, what is this about?

An intuspluric or intra-system relationship refers to relationships, attractions and connections between headmates of the same system. This is often understood within a romantic context, but can apply to any sort of relationship, be it platonic, queerplatonic, familiar or anything else. Definition adapted from the following Pluralpedia pages:

The purpose of this blog is to share culture (AKA relatable situations, moods or personal anecdotes) by any system who experience those kinds of relationships! If this sounds interesting, be sure to read the following rules before participating:

1. Submissions must be posted in the form of asks.

This is just for uniformity's sake. Instead of sending submissions, select the option to send an ask and share your ideas through there. Additionally, all culture asks must start with "Intuspluric culture is", "In-sys culture is" or any variations that might fit the specified relationship type.

All types of relationships are allowed, and we will try our best to tag accordingly.

2. This is not a social blog.

While it's fine to send non "culture is" asks, please still keep them on topic. We might occasionally try to answer questions related to being a system, having intuspluric relationships, etc. But don't forget that this is not the focus of our blog and we won't always be able to help you. Please look for specialized blogs, Discord servers, or r/plural for dealing with such matters.

If you want to be friends with the mods, that's great! Go follow us on our main account @kazanfamily and interact us with there!

3. No syscourse allowed.

For the sake of remaining impartial, anyone is welcome to interact with this blog, regardless of their syscourse stance. If that makes you uncomfortable, simply block or ignore this blog. That said, avoid making references to your opinions on the topic, or bringing syscourse to the notes. I don't care which side you're on, this is not the place for it. Just keep it civil and stay in your lane.

(Flag made by us, using the symbol from the Intra-System Relationships page on Pluralpedia. The colours don't mean anything, we just chose them for aesthetic value.)

[kingprilbusbignaturals]

i haven’t watched critical role in years, but i’ve been thinking abt how much i love how each campaign has a “found family” element to it while having a completely different group dynamic and a different way of interacting with the world around them.

at the start of c1, vox machina is already well-established, both as a successful adventuring party and interpersonally. they have powerful npc allies, they’re making grand confessions of love in the first “major” arc, everybody is already very comfortable with each other and they all know where they stand with one another. throughout the campaign, we see relationships slowly shift and grow, and we see them become more powerful and influential than their most powerful allies. they go down in the history books as heroes.

in c2, the mighty nein are a group of strangers with a bunch of secret trauma. there’s a lot of intra-party friction at first, they don’t have any powerful npcs they can really trust, and for a while they barely have any gold or any meaningful influence. we see them build their relationships with each other brick by brick into something beautiful, until each character is virtually unrecognizable from episode 1. by the end of the campaign, they are a unit that powerful people fear, but no layperson would recognize their name.

c3 (which admittedly i only watched ~40eps of), is kind of a combination of those 2 dynamics. most of the party has meaningful relationships established with one or two other characters at the start of ep1. they open up to one another quickly with relatively little tension. they have a trusted, powerful mentor quickly appointed, but that doesn’t last long-term. they have a character intimately familiar with the city they start in, but they have to move on to other parts of the world. they are relatively unknown to the average person, but simultaneously have powerful enemies and seem destined for something great.

it’s just very interesting how the same group of people can play the same game 3 times, each with the same goals of falling into that family dynamic and making their impact on the world, and make each one feel unique.

[alienidolism]

hello! might i ask for some robot themed npts? :3c

of course ! 🧪 hope these are alright! some of these are references to robots/ai in media I'm familiar with, hope you don't mind that.

robot themed npts (names pronouns and titles!)

names 🥼

metal, tin, glitch, AI, neo, alan, giga, motherboard, shard, badnik, krudzu, satellite, solar, nucleus, ultramarine, auto, aerobot, axis, delta, cobot, care, hydra, andromeda, gynoid, automaton, holo, kinect, nyquist, parallel, radar, servo, sonar, stochastic, waldo, unimate, synchro, selsyn, motor, robonaut

pronouns 🥼

turing/turing, bio/bioplastics, data/data, rubber/rubbers, coil/recoil, stem/stem, steel/steels, propeller/propellers, bot/bots, shine/shiny/shines, signal/signals intra/intranet, command/commands, entry/entries, metro/metros, retro/retros, neon/neons, core/cores, test/test, text/text, buffer/buffers, chaos/chaos, blast/blasts, nuclear/nuclear, 10110/101s, code/codes, algo/algorithms, exo/exoskeletons

titles 🥼

(prn) who needs repairs, (prn) who tangled (prn) in wires, the one trapped inside a cybernetic dream, the one with the antenna, the professors greatest creation, the one with the faulty program, the new and improved (name), (prn) who has cold metal hands, (prn) who is sending out a signal, (prn) with bombs for throwing at you, (prn) who is one of the Aperture Science Personality Constructs, (prn) with the opera singer turrets/oracle turrets/defective turrets, the robot at the top of the tower, the one who requires the four thangs, the one with many powers, (prn) who is revolutionary, the metal overlord, mecha (name) mark II, the winner of robocup, the singularity, the robot deep in space

hope these are to your liking, thank you for requesting the SRL!

[weiszklee]

Same anon.

I totally get what you’re saying about pragmatic ends coming into conflict. For me, 90% of the time when I say I’m ace, I’m specifically trying to communicate that I’m not interested in having sex with anyone. This is because I don’t experience sexual attraction, but I can see someone else who does using the term for the same purpose because of other reasons.

However, someone else who also doesn’t experience sexual attraction, so is definitionally asexual, but is actually interested in having sex, is going to want to communicate something entirely different by the word “asexual.”

What i want to communicate via the word ace is in direct conflict with what they want to communicate, despite us both meeting the dictionary definition. Intra-community, this is handled with micro-labels, but those aren’t going to be super useful for communicating with people who only have a passing familiarity with the term “asexuality” (which isn’t even most people).

As you said, we probably have to wait for this all to become more mainstream, as then both groups of people won’t have to compete for limited word real estate.

Oh yeah this touches on another maybe more abstract problem which isn't even specific to ace stuff which is that our society is kind of obsessed with identity and inner truth, like ... If you don't want to have sex, then "I don't want to have sex" is a very short sentence, there is no real need to go the circuitous and ambiguous route of communicating it by saying you're ace. But somehow the ace route is easier, because it fits into the mainstream thinking of ... how do I say it, people BEING their identity, and acting in accordance to that instead of as individuals.

Not like I don't do the same thing myself. I also tell people I'm gay, a roundabout and imprecise expression of my feelings. And it makes it seem like the only reason why I desire men is that I "am" gay, when really it's the other way around: The only reason why I call myself gay is because I desire men.

This reversal works well enough usually, there aren't many hiccups caused by it in everyday life, otherwise we would have long come up with a better way to talk about these things. But that doesn't make it less weird if you think about it. And I think it does confuse people, many think that actually yes there is some "essence" to gayness, as if my desire says something deeper, is merely the tangible sign of an intangible truth. Like some vulgar Platonism. Really hard to free oneself from this thinking, but very much worth it.

[gayleviticus]

in intra-christian arguments about LGBTQ+ issues i think there's always two main levels: 'what does the Bible say?' and 'what is our overarching narrative about queerness?', and i think a lot of resources that promote an affirming stance don't always take this into account.

by this distinction i mean that there's a difference between arguments like 'Leviticus 22.18 is about incest' and 'Know them by their fruits and the fruits of being non-affirming stink' - they're both biblically based, but one is defensively batting away clobber verses used as weapons, and the other is casting a broader narrative that gives queer affirmation some kind of weight.

conversely, for traditionalists, the difference is between something like 'Romans 1 says homosexuality is unnatural' and 'we all need to carry our crosses so suffering with suppressing your sexuality is noble and Christlike'. Again, both biblically based, but one serves to tell you what to do, and the other is the underpinning ideological justification.

(incidentally, i think it's quite frustrating that the anti-trans position in Christianity essentially relies on maybe one Bible verse we all ignore anyway by letting women wear pants, and is otherwise entirely dependent on having constructed an anti-trans narrative that is hardly the only or even obvious option for Christians)

so i think there are four quadrants to arguing for LGBTQ+ affirmation: 1) dismissing traditionalist readings of Scripture (e.g. 'Paul was only familiar with pederasty not committed adult homosexuality') 2) offering queer-affirming readings of Scripture (e.g. 'David and Jonathan were gay' or the Ethiopian eunuch) 3) Dismissing traditionalist narratives about why suppressing queerness is justifiable and good (e.g. 'carry your cross', 'gender complementarity', 'your identity is in Christ alone) 4) Constructing narratives about why queer affirmation is good (e.g. 'Know them by their fruits', 'Love is love', 'God created transsexuals the same reason he created wheat but not bread')

Now, I think a lot of arguments you see tend to focus on 1, 2, or 4.

Arguments for 1 I think often lack a lot of nuance and can honestly be quite bad, at least the passing ones you see online ("'homosexuality' as a term was added to the bible in the 1940s" is a huge oversimplification for starters, and i think the idea Leviticus is talking about pedophilia is confusing it with Paul's Epistles). But I think there are definitely good arguments out there, especially in books like Brownson's Bible Gender and Sexuality.

Arguments for 2 I think, to be honest, are often far too speculative and anachronistic to be helpful - we can certainly read David and Jonathan or the centurion and his slave etc queerly, but I think it goes too far to definitively project it back onto them for the sake of arguments. I think there's fruitful potential in reading things like Gentile inclusion in Acts queerly, or perhaps even, idk, the Book of Job. But these are easily the most spurious and least helpful arguments (which is not to say the Bible can't be interpreted pro-queerly; just that that comes out more in #4 in constructing pro-queer narratives).

Arguments for 4, I think, are actually quite powerful because they provide the underlying engine of actually wanting to be affirming. It's all well and good to argue dry technical points of ancient Hebrew or Greek exegesis, but if there's otherwise no compelling moral issue at stake - oppression of LGBTQ people, rejection of love, the risk of being locked into legalistic thinking, even just alienation from your LGBTQ+ loved ones - why would anyone care?

BUT on the other hand, they can also lapse into cliche and feel like arguments from emotion when they get prioritised over arguments about the actual text/theology. Which is frustrating, because in a sense these arguments are 'more important' - what's going to keep you committed to an affirming position long term, a realisation that the meaning of 'arsenokoites' in 1 Corinthians is ambiguous, or wholeheartedly believing non-affirming theology is ripe with bad and harmful fruits?

Finally, arguments for 3, I think, are relatively lacking. Arguments constructing pro-queer narratives implicitly counter anti-queer ones, obviously, and I think a bit of work has been done around dismantling gender complementarity (albeit not always in the context of LGBTQ+ issues) and the whole 'my identity is in Christ' (probably thanks to the Side B community tbh).

But I feel like there are other narratives that have gone not really explicitly addressed, like 'we all carry our crosses', 'Christians are called to be in the world and not of it; LGBTQ+ inclusion is a secular whim'. And I think these especially are narratives that we progressives are inclined to just dismiss out of hand, because they just feel inherently culty and authoritarian; they don't start from a place of good faith, the assumptions are faulty, let's not bother.

But I think it would be worth picking these apart further for the sake of people stuck in homophobic churches - fruitfully deconstructing what 'carrying your cross' means and the role of suffering in the Christian life, or clearly identifying where LGBTQ+ affirmation comes from within Christian theology, or working out why it's not a problem the secular world took the lead on this (because the Holy Spirit is working throughout history and is not so weak as to be limited to the church, because the church's role isn't necessarily been to be the only arbiters of moral progress, because religious institutions becoming corrupt and losing sight of justice is not a new concept to Christians etc)

[cosmopolitan-cosmonaut-lancer]

Channel Open

Greetings from those who wander the open sky.

I am Matthias Edam, though some of you may know me better by my callsign Twist. I've spent much of my life traveling the galaxy at nearlight speeds, part of a clan of Cosmopolitans known as the Horticulturalist Cluster. Most who are familiar with our ship cluster know us for plying our trades of biotech, genetech treatments for local adaptation and ecosystem engineering skills.

While my primary trade aboard my homeship is related to deep space astrogation and piloting, I also am part of the cluster's militia force, and will often mount up to provide security escorts for trade runs or on short patrols during intra system operations.

Stay safe out there pilots, and may the stars always guide you to your destination.

Until we spool up to nearlight again

[mathamaniac]

Worlds Beyond Number E26

Spoilers for Arc 3 [thoughts from the Suvirin Kedberiket defense squad]

In this week's episode, Suvi is consciously giving a cold shoulder to her True Friends Ame and Eursalon. Her Horse Girl instincts and her relief that Eursalon is alive both caused cracks in the facade, but she doubled down on the intra-party conflict when she asked Eursalon about the "cataclysm of his own design".

It was a character beat that I found to be extremely familiar because there are lots of situations where social inertia can carry a group right on past a moment of hurt that never gets addressed. If you go with the flow, you might have a good time, and certainly the tension will pass. But swallowing your hurt at a betrayal only disguises the natural consequence that hurting you affects your relationship. Performing a cold shoulder is one way to communicate those consequences in a way that will be heard and considered before they design their next "cataclysm".

On the other hand, punishing your friends also punishes yourself. Suvi's conflict-resolution skills seem to be lagging way behind her other abilities. Now that the gang is back together, and presumably working to prevent Ame's destruction, Suvi had the opportunity to clear the air. It was childish to run away back to her private quarters. That childish instinct is reinforcing the learned (performative?) helplessness that we saw during the start of the Port Talon crisis.

In conclusion: Suvi is a mess and i love her

[thewebcomicsreview]

What does, "intra-left" mean in your latest answer? I've never heard this term before and a quick search hasn't been very useful.

It just means "between people on the left", but god do I envy you for not being familiar with it.

[cuffmeinblack]

Veil

Richard Jackdaw x f!MC (Lila Kirke)

Chapter 10: Intra Muros

Series tags: explicit | pining | romance | sex | angst | death | canon-divergent

Summary: Lila and Richard make preparations to use the stone as Sebastian discovers something Lila has been keeping secret.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to you at the weekend, then? What in blazes is going on, Lila?” Lila dropped her voice to a whisper as she began scrubbing the outside of the cauldron. “It’s hard to explain everything, but…well, suffice to say I met Ominis’ family that night and it didn’t go terribly well.” “His family? Why in Merlin’s name would you do that?” “Like I said, it’s a long story.” Garreth sighed and shook his head, his hair flopping into his face as he scrubbed the cauldron ever harder. Lila’s familiar and unwelcome companion of guilt reared its ugly head then, gnawing at her chest with sharp fangs that threatened to tear her composure apart. Why was she keeping one of her best friends in the dark? Garreth would know soon enough, when Richard returned whole and mortal once more. The answer only dredged up the fears she’d fought so hard to bury. He might ask her questions that she hated to dwell on. 

[theboywiththepurplesocks]

DND Characters I've made that I will probably never get the chance to play:

Middle Aged Lark Sovaan - An older version of a character I played in a Rime of the Frost Maidan Campaign. He's a half elf, Swarm Keeper Ranger/Soul Knife Rogue. He's being called into service to the Platinum Dragon via a pact made by his father, but he's denying it, instead focusing on the goal of freeing his twin sister who has been held captive in hell by Tiamat for the last 40 years. No, don't mention the 7 golden canaries that follow him everywhere he goes. I always thought this would be suitable for a Descent In To Avernus campaign or something.

Jules - A Coven of the Green Witch (From the Homebrew Witch Class From Worlds Beyond Number). I originally conceptualized Jules as a character for a modern, urban, magic setting. He's a culinary student who has an apartment full of plants and he grows his own herbs and all the food he cooks have magical properties. He's also trans and has a big ole Rottweiler familiar who is a sweety goober.

Caspian Blackpearl - Caspian is an Eladrian Elf, Fathomless Warlock/ Echo Knight Fighter. I made this character for a paid campaign that fell through. The setting was an intra-dimensional adventuring academy. His mom is a sea witch and he lives under the sea and has no social skills, but he desperately wants to become a brave knight like the heroes in the books he reads. So he manages to talk his mom into letting him go to adventuring school, but only on the condition that he take a warlock level to keep him safe...no other reason. Also featuring: Mysterious Magic Sword, Family Secrets, and Unrequited (Secretly Mutual) Crushing on your best friend.