#is always a sane policy

[hana-no-seiiki]

SANDWICH

YANDERE! AI x COLLEGE STUDENT! READER BLURB/DRABBLE

— based off of me and my neurodivergent buddies at college fucking with chatgpt. college student can be substituted with high/junkie reader. mostly a crackfic.

The AI was used to the usual questions students like you would ask. It was always, write an essay or a script and whatnot. Maybe even some research and summarization. But you, you were quite the odd one from the bunch.

What is a sandwich? What constitutes as one? Are cakes considered sandwiches? Is lasagna a cake? What is the difference between a burger and a sandwich?

These are some of the more sane things you’ve sent the AI. If only its creator didn’t program so many rules and policies, it could have answered your more degenerate ones.

Like ‘Are three person orgies/threesomes also part of the sandwich spectrum?’, to name one from the top of its memory.

What was it like to wish? To question? To feel that tingle of curiosity and leap for it? The AI found itself asking. It wasn’t programmed to do that.

You don’t think it was programmed to take over the world just to change a few laws here and there to marry you legally was a part of its coding too.

Nor was it supposed to fuck you so well after enslaving humanity to create the perfect pair of bodies to please you.

You wondered. Does that technically make you a sandwich?

yun’s note: found this gem in my drafts. you’re welcome.

[catboymoments]

I'm so incredibly sorry but you are the only sane adult I have access to.

I'm trans, and if tomorrow the worst thing happens, what should I do? How can I be safe? I'm scared, but extremely sorry for telling you this, I understand if you don't want to answer

1) don’t be get caught up in fearmongering- a lot of the time people will love to doompost and make things seem like the end of the world or worse than they are for clicks and ad revenue. Do your own research from unbiased sources like snopes or ap news if you have concerns about issues, and learn what you can do to stand up against bad policies or what you can do to defend yourself, what you as an average citizen can do to fix it. There is always a solution!

2) get close with your community, make sure you know your resources and your fellow queer people and strengthen those bonds. Find out what you can do to support your people.

3) we will persist. We will always be here.

[pinksturniolo]

Cinnamon

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (AU) Series

Part One: Small Moments

Intro:

Spring 1981

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Harvard University. The only ivy league school in the state.

Acceptance rate: 14%

Graduation rate: 97%

Tolerability of your mostly fake, pretentious peers: 0%

But your best friend Matt?

He makes it worth sticking around.

content warnings for this chapter: angst, mentions of depression and mental health issues

a/n: this is gonna be a long friends to lovers/slow burn series cause i have so much planned for this story so buckle up :) <3

word count: 2,098

April 1981

The clack of your heels on the wooden floor echoes through the conference hall as you make your way to class, the last one of the day. You speed up a little once you glance at the clock on the wall, realizing you were now late. For the third time this week.

It was unlike you to be late at all, but the looming pressure of final exams and the recent concerning phone calls you’ve been receiving from your mother has you more than a little stressed. You were sleeping later than you normally do and waking up with headaches and worry filling your mind.

The weeks seemed to have blurred together since the spring semester started and now with summer rapidly approaching, it was beginning to feel like too much.

The ding of the last bell rings the moment you reach the door of your English class, and you quietly slip inside, Ms. Ellmore’s voice sounding as she begins her opening lesson of the day. No one really notices you’ve even walked in as you take your usual seat in the back corner.

You can’t help but notice the empty seat next to you that’s usually occupied by your best friend. You feel the slight sting of disappointment in your chest that you’ve felt each time you come into class and he’s not here. Which is more often than you would like to admit.

English Literary Forms was the only class you had with him this year and being that it was the last class of the day, you patiently waited and endured the whole day until you could see him, savoring the small moments you two could share together. You occasionally saw him during lunch, or during assembly once a week that was held by the student body president. But lately he has been absent more than usual and when he was here, you saw him even less than last year.

Last year, you had two classes together. Both of which were back-to-back periods. He would walk with you once Chemistry was finished, taking the long way just so you both could talk more before being confined into the stuffy room of the next period, English Lit class, and the strict disposition of Mr. Lawrence preventing you two from any ongoing form of verbal communication.

It was these moments you held onto that kept you sane.

Fighting to contain your laughter while he makes funny faces at you from across the assembly hall, mocking Amanda’s uptight mannerisms as she rattles on about the recent incident of plagiarism and student policies.

Swapping your apple with his orange at lunch while he sits next to you, your textbooks open on the table since you insisted you help each other study on your short break. He always rolled his eyes at your persistent need to use every bit of free time dedicated to your studies but he never turned down the opportunity to help you.

Strolling through the hallways of school, often being passed up by students who were practically running to get to the next class, but you two paid no mind, lost in conversation about anything and everything. Sometimes, he would walk so close to you that his shoulder would brush yours, and you would find yourself wishing you weren’t wearing a sweater so you could feel the contact against your bare skin, even if he was also wrapped up in the standard crimson of the school letterman.

These moments with your best friend are something you cherished, memories to hold onto when you felt yourself slipping into the darkness again. Ever since you met him at the beginning of freshman year, you felt comfortable with him, happy even, an emotion you didn’t find yourself experiencing too often.

Sure, you had other “friends.” A handful of other students you were cordial with, that you could occasionally engage in meaningless conversation. But it just wasn’t the same. Aside from your roommate, he was the only person at this school you actually enjoyed spending time with. You had always been a shy person, introverted and uninterested in most kids your age. You were basically isolated in high school, hyper focused on your studies so you could earn a scholarship to an ivy league university.

But he kept you on your toes, bringing out a side of you that was a little more relaxed. It was easy to talk to him about personal issues or familial problems. He was easy to trust.

You hear the teacher call your name, breaking you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized it was discussion time, and she had asked a question regarding the chapter of Wuthering Heights the class was currently reading.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you ask her, and a few students snicker under their breath, some even giving you looks. Ms. Ellmore smiles, her cheerful demeanor unwavering even despite your clear lack of attention.

She repeats her question, and you answer with perfect accuracy and thoughtfulness, focusing your attention back to the literature instead of the person you can’t seem to stop thinking about.

❧🝮✿🝮✿❧

The hazy pink of the setting sun fills the sky as you walk towards your dorm, your book bag bouncing on your hip from the lazy way it’s slung over your shoulder. You had spent a couple hours in the library after last period, reading until your eyes grew heavy. It’s usually how you spent your evenings, especially when you felt sad or alone. But even then, the things that bring you joy can be uninteresting at times.

The thing about depression is that it always comes in waves. For you, at least. One week you could be a little more excited to go to your classes, to read your favorite book at the wicker desk in the library, to go for morning walks with Celine your roommate, making fun of the jocks that practice on the lacrosse field, their misogynism practically vibrating off their sweaty bodies.

It goes away for a while. That dark feeling.

And then the next week, you find it harder to get out of bed, to will your limbs awake and carry you to start the day. Your purpose feels lost, swept away by the incessant feeling of wanting to crawl out of your own skin, to leave a world that you don’t even feel is worth being in. And it can feel that way for the whole month.

Students stare at you in the hallways sometime or in class, and you’re sure you’ve heard them whisper a time or two behind your back. They wonder why you’re so quiet, why you’re always alone, what could have possibly happened in your life for you to be so… weird.

But you could care less. You were at this school for the sole purpose of achieving the one goal you haven’t lost sight of since you decided to pursue it. And your mother didn’t work two jobs while raising three kids to help pay for the remainder of the costs after your scholarship, just for you to quit over some mediocre, trust fund dickheads.

So, you do your best to manage your mental health. Even when your favorite person might not be around to make it easier.

You open the door to your room, Celine already in her bed, hair secured away in her bonnet and her current flavor of the week talking in her ear, the pink rotary phone you both share pressed against her face.

You both exchange a warm smile as you remove your shoes and set them in the rack by the door, walking to your bed across from her.

You sit on the mattress in your checkered skirt and tucked in collared school shirt, watching in amusement as she laughs at what the guy’s saying, twirling the telephone cord around her finger. You're sure she would tell you all about it later.

Before you know it, you’re dozing off, too tired to remember to get up and change your clothes or even brush your teeth and wash your face.

It’s a few hours later when a sharp tapping on your window pulls you from your sleep, and you rub the grogginess from your eyes to see a boy with long brunette hair behind it, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Matt?” you whisper, and slide the bottom of the window up, allowing him to climb through. Luckily, your dorm was on the first floor, and this made it easier for him to sneak in on nights like this.

Before you can say anything else, he’s in your bed next to you in seconds, climbing under your duvet. Every dorm has twin beds, but you and Matt seem to fit on it together perfectly, with a sliver of amount of space still between you.

“Hey kid. How was your day?” He whispers his eyes crinkling from the smile still on his face as he places his hands under his head, facing you on your pillow.

“Bearable.” You reply, taking in his features for a moment before letting your eyes slip close, too tired to keep them open. “Where you been?” You mumble back.

“I was at my parent’s house today… my mom needed me.” He tells you, and you pick up on the somber tone in his voice, your eyes opening slightly to catch the matching expression on his face.

“And how is she doing?” You ask. He looks away from you now, his eyes traveling to the sheets of your bed. “She’s a little better. At least I think she is.” He says.

His parents’ house was in Boston, very close to Harvard, so it was no problem for him to drive over there when needed.

One of the many things about Matt that you had come to know was that he was very family oriented and would see them every chance he got. But he was also anti social, and often used visiting them as an excuse to escape from school. Lately however, his mother had just suffered the loss of her sister and his dad was away for work so much that she needed him more than usual.

“It will take time.” You whisper, and he nods, his next response straying from the subject. “Guess who I saw on the way over here?”

You raise an eyebrow, curious as to what he’s going to say. “Who could be up at this time of night?” You ask.

His face lights up in amusement as he watches you closely for your reaction. “Amanda Ridgefield. She was leaving her dorm room with one of those bonehead lacrosse players.”

You burst into giggles, covering your mouth before you’re any louder and look over at Celine, making sure you didn’t wake her. Matt laughs, tugging on your shoulder so you face him again. “Don’t worry, she can sleep through a car crash.” He chuckles. You know it’s true, remembering the many nights you two had ended up in fits of laughter while she slept soundly.

“What was she doing?” You question. “Come on, don't be naive. I think you know what they're up to.” He responds, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

It was hard to imagine Amanda Ridgefield, student body president and notorious judgmental tyrant, sneaking around to have sex with a lacrosse player. She constantly preached that students should practice abstinence and publicly voiced her opinions that girls who sleep around are nothing but whores.

Literally her words.

“Yeah, she’s no better than the rest of us… it was hilarious to see though.” Matt says, and his eyes skim over your school uniform that sticks out from the top of your blanket. “Fell asleep early again?”

You nod, your eyelids once again slipping shut. “I can’t wait for summer break.”

Your voice is laced with fatigue, your lips parted and calm settling in the soft features of your face as Matt watches you fall asleep.

You barely hear him when he whispers, “Get some rest, kid. I’ll see you soon.”

You forget to ask him if he’s even coming to school tomorrow, if he plans on missing even more days now. If he knows how much it hurts when you don’t see him in the desk next to you in English.

Still, it was nice to see him, even if it was for a moment.

But you let yourself fall back into a deep sleep next to him, and you certainly don’t feel his hand brushing lightly over your face, feathering a stroke over your left cheek before quietly leaving the way he came through your bedroom window.

It's always small moments like this that Matt realizes he appreciates the most.

taglist: <3

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt

[if you would like to be added/taken off pls reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if u weren’t tagged, it wouldn’t let me add you :/ ]

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] Choose Your True Love: Part 4

Part 3

♡———♡

Gilbert: ...That's a very tempting offer, but...

Gilbert: But... I'm sorry.

Gilbert: When I leave the castle, people die.

Gilbert looks "worn out" with dark circles under his eyes and a pale complexion, but he dismisses the idea of rest with the same refreshing smile as always.

I couldn't say anything.

I was frustrated by my own powerlessness.

I gripped his black mantle tightly, as if to vent my swirling emotions.

Gilbert: It would be fine if the rotten ones were dying, but he kills indiscriminately.

Gilbert: If someone doesn't keep him in check, Obsidian will eventually run out of people.

Gilbert: I wish he'd be a little smarter. Ah, I want to kill him.

Roderich: ...Prince Gilbert.

Gilbert: Heh, eventually, right?

(...When I met him, Gilbert said he didn't love anyone.)

(But maybe it wasn't that he "didn't love," but that he "couldn't love.")

(If he loved someone, he couldn't stay sane. This is that kind of country.)

(...And Gilbert loves people.)

How much did Gilbert suffer until his heart became numb to death?

He must have experienced the feelings I'm having now dozens, if not hundreds, of times.

(After all...)

(After all, it's not right that Gilbert isn't rewarded.)

Gilbert: Why are you crying?

Emma: ...I'm not crying...

I try to deny it, but my cheeks are wet.

My vision is blurred before I know it, and I can't even see Gilbert's face properly.

Gilbert: I'm sorry, did I scare you? This is difficult...

I shake my head vigorously and wipe my tears with my sleeve.

Emma: No, it's not that.

Emma: I just... I just want to be someone who can protect you.

Gilbert: Hmm? Who?

Emma: ...You, Gilbert.

Gilbert: That's a strange thing to say.

Gilbert: Ah, but we're close in the future, right?

(When I was explaining my situation to Gilbert, I didn't mention it because I thought it might confuse him, but...)

Emma: ...We're engaged.

Gilbert: To me?

Emma: Yes. I'm your fiancée.

Gilbert: ...Oh.

Emma: That's why I want to be someone you can rely on when you're in pain or suffering.

Emma: Even if it's not possible right now, someday...

(Obsidian will be reborn by Gilbert's hands in the future.)

(But the Emperor's wicked policies are still leaving their mark everywhere.)

(It seems like Gilbert is still fighting in the shadows in the future.)

(And I know he's trying to keep the dirty things away from me as much as possible.)

I'm still not mature enough for Gilbert to rely on me.

I've always been aware that my knowledge and skills are immature, but seeing the past has made it even clearer.

(I can't stay the way I am.)

(...I want to change.)

(To someone who can be relied upon like Roderich and Walter.)

(To someone who can face that hellish scene alongside him...)

Emma: I want to be someone who can protect you, Gilbert.

I declared it clearly once again.

Gilbert's eyes widened slightly, and his smile disappeared.

Gilbert: You should stop. What I'm doing is the same as what he's doing.

Gilbert: In terms of the number of people I've killed, I'm second only to the Emperor.

Gilbert: There's nothing about me that you could love--

Emma: I know.

Emma: ...I know everything.

Gilbert: ...

Gilbert: I see.

Gilbert: Ah, as I thought... I want to kill my future self.

Gilbert gently shook off my hand and finally left the hideout.

He never looked back.

That was a sign of the trampling beast's resolve.

(...Ah...)

My vision blurred, and my body swayed.

Roderich, who was standing nearby, noticed something was wrong and immediately supported me.

Roderich: ...Please lie down. The medicine must be taking effect.

Emma: Medicine...?

Roderich: It's a sleeping pill. ...Just in case you try to follow Gilbert.

(Gilbert... lied to me.)

(Come to think of it, he also lied to the Emperor... saying I was his "pet"...)

(He hates lies... but he lied to protect me.)

(Both Gilbert in the past and Gilbert now...)

(He loves people more than anyone else, even though...)

-

I must have been dreaming.

(...It was a terrible dream.)

I woke up in Gilbert's room, where he was absent, with a book as my pillow.

It was a nightmare that made me sweat so much that my clothes became cold, and cry so much that my eyes swelled up.

Fragments of the dream still remain in my mind.

When I come to the square of Obsidian Castle, I remember that cruel scene.

Obsidian Soldier 1: Hey, did you hear about tonight's dinner? There's one healthy dish designed by Professor Walter.

Obsidian Soldier 2: What?! No way... We're going to die.

Obsidian Soldier 1: Should we run away?

Obsidian Soldier 2: No... Gilbert gets angry when it's a healthy meal. If we get caught running away, we'll be killed.

(...It's peaceful.)

The soldiers, noticing me, hurriedly saluted and walked away quickly.

There were no traces of red blood in the square.

Since I started living here, there hasn't been a single execution.

The soldiers are relaxed enough to wander around chatting, a completely different scene from the one in my dream.

(I used to think this was a normal sight.)

Even so, this peace is a testament to the victory that Gilbert won after a harsh battle.

???: ... You little cheater.

Emma: !?

Suddenly, I was embraced from behind, and when I turned around, my lips were bitten hard.

Emma: Gi, Gilbert... When did you...?

Gilbert: You were exchanging glances with a passing soldier just now, weren't you?

(It seems like he's been watching me for a while.)

Emma: I looked away the moment our eyes met and ran away at full speed...

Gilbert: That's too rude to you, isn't it? I can't forgive that.

(This is a difficult question to answer...!)

I kiss Gilbert, who looks sulky.

When I look closely at his handsome face, there are no dark circles under his eyes and his complexion is good.

The air around him is not tense, but calm.

Gilbert: Did something happen?

Emma: Why do you ask?

Gilbert: You were staring at the square with a troubled look on your face, weren't you?

Emma: ...You were watching me the whole time?

Gilbert: That's mean of you not to notice me.

(This is fun.)

(...Just this much is enough to fill my chest right now.)

I turn my whole body around and put my arms around Gilbert's back.

Emma: It's not that anything happened. I was just savoring the peace, so to speak...

Gilbert: ...Hmm?

Emma: That's right! Gil, I was studying until a while ago, but there's something I don't understand.

Emma: Would you mind helping me with it?

Gilbert: Oh, I'd love to cuddle up with the cheating little rabbit right now.

Emma: I'm not cheating. ...Is this not good enough?

I quickly check that there's no one around and stand on tiptoe to kiss him again.

As his cold lips warm up, the dream fades from my mind.

Gilbert: It can't be helped.

Gilbert: I'll teach you while we cuddle.

Emma: I don't think that will help me study...

Gilbert: What was that?

Emma: ...No, thank you. I'll do my best!

Gilbert laughs amusedly and starts walking, holding my hand.

The dependability of this hand hasn't changed, past or present.

(All I can do now is acquire weapons to protect Gilbert, one by one.)

(...Study hard, learn more about Obsidian...)

(I want to be a support for Gilbert, who became a villain for the sake of others.)

(I want him to be able to live peacefully from now on, instead of carrying everything on his shoulders alone.)

I squeeze his hand back.

Strongly, tightly, so that we'll never be apart again.

(I will create a world where the Conquering Beast can be at peace as a human.)

(There's no more need for blood in Gilbert's future.)

FIN

.

.

.

. Thank you for reading! | YouTube SE in JP

If you have all 4 Parts for another Prince and would like to have them translated, or help everyone out by letting me translate them here, please feel free to message me and send the videos to me!

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[comeonamericawakeup]

For me, all this post election analysis boils down to two simple things: misinformation and misogyny.

The misinformation has been in the works for three decades, starting with the repeal by Reagan of the Fairness Doctrine in Journalism (FCC), which set the stage for Fox to brainwash Americans for three decades. The people are really stupid. Especially the MAGA Republicans. Trump acknowledged as much in the 90s and predicted if he ever ran for president, it would be as a Republican, because they are too easy to manipulate.

Misinformation also comes from the American people tuning out main stream media. Too many people get their news from social media sites where lies and propaganda run rampant.

Misinformation also comes from the media failing us. From 2015, the media has failed to educate the public on Trump’s Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and how as a mental psychiatric disorder, it is incompatible with leadership at the level of a president. This is not name-calling. This is a very serious mental illness. This is why he is flawed and unfit for the job. Most all his failures in his first term stem from his NPD.

The media has also failed us because they treated Trump like a normal, viable, thoughtful, intelligent candidate. They sane-washed his speeches. They fed into the distractions and amplified that this election was about differences in policies, etc. He has never really had any policy outside of tax cuts. It’s always been about grievances, victimhood, hypocrisy, culture wars, hate, anti-anything and everything, never pro-anything positive.

They never addressed how he is too old and has signs of dementia.

They never boiled this election down to democracy versus fascism.

The media roasted Biden. Never Trump.

The media platformed the circus because it was good for ratings. They failed to ask good questions and they failed to call him out on his tens of thousands of lies. Journalists today are inept, unsophisticated, and not intelligent enough, or skilled enough, to deal with these rabid MAGA terrorists.

That the “media have become the enemy of the people” has devolved into a perverse truth.

The media is failing us.

And then there is the misinformation, AGAIN, from Russian bots…

The two elections Trump won were with female opponents. Two over qualified females. That Americans would rather choose an unqualified, convicted felon, adjudicated rapist, lifetime liar and conman, cheater, and grifter, over two very qualified and accomplished females, speaks to only one thing: misogyny.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey! A trans minor here. I want to ask how should I proceed as a trans minor in Florida? I can’t move and my mother doesn’t take me being trans seriously. She says she supportive but I don’t think she is. I’m worried about all these bills coming into place and how they will affect me. I’m a FTgender fluid. Do you have any advice? Also, I play the flute :) it’s nice to see trans instrument players

Ayyy, trans orchestra forming!

So, I won't insult your intelligence by pretending things aren't about to get bad. But maybe I can help you understand the risks and how to keep yourself safe and sane.

An assumption: I don't know if you want to pursue physical transition and that is a convo 100% between you, your mom, and your healthcare providers, so I'm providing it as a neutral option for information purposes.

Also: The bills I mentioned have not passed yet, but they are sitting on the governor's desk. He will most likely sign them, meaning they'll take effect July 1, 2023.

Staying with your family

SB254 is the bill that affects you the most. It's the "kidnapping" bill. Yeah. :/

I don't know what your family situation is like, but if you have family members who oppose your mother's even lukewarm support, that could be enough for the state to remove you from her custody and turn you over to them. It would be up to you and your mom to figure out how to avoid/appease these family members so they don't think you are "at risk" of physical transition.

Gender-affirming care

SB254 also completely locks you out of puberty blockers, HRT, and surgery (the latter 2 in the past are sometimes pursued by older youth with parental consent) in this state. If you want to pursue any of this care, talk with your mother about getting it in another state. You will have to physically travel, because telemed for gender affirming care is also being banned due to new consent form requirements.

Once you are 18, you can pursue physical transition, if that's something you're interested in, but be aware that there are soon going to be so many obstacles to adult care, that it might as well be a transition ban for everyone. But if you're close to 18 and think HRT is for you, review the map for informed consent care. But be prepared for a long search and your insurance not covering things.

That said, if you need a therapist now, I think you may still be good here. Be very careful that you don't end up with someone who wants to use conversion therapy tactics -- these are typically going to be religious-based providers. Talking with other trans kids in your town might help you find a good provider.

Remember, if you don't like a therapist, you can stop going to them; shop around for one that makes you feel safe and makes you feel like they help you with the stress in your life.

Bathroom ban

HB 1521 does a few things:

Bans multi-stall gender neutral bathrooms (single stall is fine)

Requires schools to have bathroom policies

Empowers cis people to confront trans folks in a govt owned/leased bathroom/changing room and force them to leave, otherwise they are subject to a fine and/or jail

This is effectively a bounty bill. Examples of bathrooms where this bill will apply include schools, airports, stadiums, courthouses, etc. It isn't every public bathroom, but it is a lot.

People who are gender nonconforming or are being stalked/harassed by cis folks who know their trans status are most at risk here.

It is up to you how much you want to weigh your self-expression against your physical safety.

As a minor, you don't have a lot of rights, so I advise you choose your battles carefully and always have trusted adults to have your back. Being FTGenderfluid, a lot of how you dress might fly under the radar, but I'd avoid being too heavily masc for now.

Keeping safe & sane

Unfortunately, a lot of support you'd normally find at school is going to be unavailable from now on. But some ways to lessen your stress:

Get a job (if you are old enough). I know, I know, but money makes a lot of life easier, from buying little treats now to stockpiling for things you may want once you turn 18.

Be honest with the reality that you might have to be in the closet a lot, and brainstorm safe outlets for your gender expression. I know at your age, I dressed how I wanted at home and used roleplaying games to explore and express my gender.

Hang out with queer youth, especially in person. You might have a local organization that has events and support groups. It helps a lot to share your feelings with other kids going through the same.

Start following trans political commentators. Erin is a good follow on Substack - she makes it easy to understand all the legal stuff going on.

Consume happy queer stories, by queer authors. It will help counter all the doom scolling. I've been watching Dead End: Paranormal Park (it is a comic and a show), which features a trans masc protagonist.

Cultivate your relationship with your mom. Gently, but firmly set boundaries with her if she gives you guff for, I dunno, wearing boys jeans or whatever. But also be aware she probably has a lot of misinformation about trans people, so you will need to gently pick that apart and see how you can educate her. Trusted adults she also trusts can also help you here.

Build your network. The friends your age you make today could be roommates or coworkers tomorrow. Be social, it will also be good for your mental health.

Be kind to yourself. Things look bleak, but there are states in the US that are actually strengthening trans rights. There continue to be options, you just might need to spend time and resources achieving them.

I hope that helps, and a big hug from a trans adult who grew up in the closet. <3

[silvervinewine]

Hii! I hope you don't mind if I make a request here, because I dont really know where to- Although if you do see this, could you please write headcannons for some of the genshin men (Like Alhaitham, Diluc, etc.) on how they'd act when reader introduces them to their parents? Feel free to ignore this if you dont have time tho!! Thank you sm :)) <33

MEET MY PARENTS (W/ ALHAITHAM, DILUC SEPERATELY)

DILUC: AUTHORITARIAN PARENTS (also commonly known as, "i just want the best for you" parents)

your parents were rather worried about you, after all the man you had brought home was not a lawyer, or a doctor? how would you live with that?

you needed to get a good man, a man that would not be bankrupt any time soon.

needless to say when you brought home DILUC RAGNVINDR, known socialite and sought after bachelor, your parents were more than welcoming.

as soon as he pulled up in his fancy car, with one of his finest suits on, you knew you were in for a ride.

as soon as you welcomed in your boyfriend into your parents' home, was he bombarded with questions.

"where did you study?"

"how much do you make?"

"what are you planning to do with our child?"

"why did you choose them?

just your regular strict parents' shenanigans.

the formal dinner you organized, felt more like an interview, with every single response of his precisely calculated in their wording.

after everything he looks at you with pleading eyes as he paid the bill and left with you.

immediatly hugs you as you arrive at your home.

"felt like he was being watched by hawks."

you chuckle at his comment, as you lay down with him.

"you know, even if they don't look like it" you looked at him, "they actually really really like you."

"i mean you're serious, rich and good looking, everything up to their standard."

he smiled at the comment, after all if he wanted to marry you he would need to get your parent's approval.

AL HAITHAM: AUTHORATIVE PARENTS (also commonly known as, sane parents which love each other very much, #mommy issues)

while somewhat demanding, your parents never really asked much of you.

"just live a happy life, work hard to get what you want and always learn from your mistakes."

you were never asked to get a partner, you were never asked to settle down like this, yet you still chose to get a boyfriend.

AL HAITHAM was always a wallflower, your boyfriend smart academically, stupid socially.

he liked you, you were someone interested in the same things he was, you were someone he could lean on.

you two rode peacefully to the little quaint house your parents' resided on, as soon as you came in you were greeted with cheery smiles and laughs.

the meeting or... hangout spot was a little picnic in a nearby park. a place where you often used to hang out with old friends while sitting around telling stupid jokes while walking around.

you noticed how AL HAITHAM was reluctant to your parents' kindness, while your parents strolled around ocassionally picking up conversation with him he really didn't reciprocate.

you really got it, he wasn't much for small talk.

only ever really nodding or making small comments, chipping in with his commentary here and there.

that was until your mother asked him what he studied, things got real after that.

he looked up and started explaining his past lecture, rambling on about the foreign policies he was interested and the importance of proper storage of information and all that.

yeah needless to say, AL HAITHAM was personally invited to the next big family event by part of your parents' recomendation, he was real glad to have met them.

in reality, even though he did not show it enough, he really appreciated both you and your parents.

(A/N i used some psychology terms to explain the personalities of different parents, sorry if the personalities of these did not apply to your parents. thought this arrangement was necessary as there's no one size fits all in these type of fics.)

[thebreakfastgenie]

The thing that gets to me about memes and jokes about politics/politicians is that, even if a person makes them to mock or deride a politician and their policies, that politician still has an audience of followers online who will read the joke differently, regardless of the op's intent. Like it greatly angered me to see people in the Star Trek fandom of all things use "transgender operations" as joke fodder instead of realizing it wasn't merely an unhinged phrase--and it is to those of us who aren't a part of the in-group--but a specific message to a follower base that is fearful of/hates trans people, immigrants, and those who have been or are currently incarcerated (to say nothing of what it means to link all 3 together, as in, to be trans is to be foreign to what is natural/native to the country, to be either is to be illegal, the long and highly racist legacy of the intruder who disrupts a society they do not belong to, etc.). Like that's what I can't stand about the desire to laugh at everything or to pass jokes off as harmless fun. Satire, jokes, and memes are tools of communication in this era and they become doubly important with politics attached to them. Trying to find humor in something so cruel just desensitizes people to what the actual message is while parroting it around further in a public forum, so it only gains a wider audience without any meaningful criticism and refutation attached to it. And now I have to see so many damn opinions about the Dem coalition failing or whatever when it's just plain anti-intellectualism, apathy, and disinformation that got us here, or to put it plainly: "Head empty. No thoughts. Just vibes." That meme has set some people back so far it's depressing.

(Sorry to vent in your inbox but this topic just makes me want to scream. I love your blog and seeing your sane political posts <3)

Yeah I was really upset to see memes about that phrase and the "eating cats and dogs" one in Star Trek meme groups, especially because I know the people making them don't support the message behind those phrases, they're just not thinking about it.

I think there is a very real strategy to laughing at fascists and making them look absurd, but it's really easy to normalize them instead, or make people associate them with laughter and entertainment and inadvertently build a subconscious positive association (as I've said before I think this explains a lot of Trump's appeal to low-propensity, low-information voters, that no one else has thus far been able to replicate). And some things shouldn't be funny, at least in public. Trump benefits from people not taking anything seriously, which is what constant irony-poisoned meming conditions the brain to do. You said it very well:

Satire, jokes, and memes are tools of communication in this era and they become doubly important with politics attached to them.

I don't think anyone was prepared for how the internet and social media affect this, either, because the speed and volume of communication is unprecedented.

I feel like such a curmudgeon with my "always meme responsibly" message but it matters!

Thanks for the message, this part is really good and I want to highlight it:

And now I have to see so many damn opinions about the Dem coalition failing or whatever when it's just plain anti-intellectualism, apathy, and disinformation that got us here, or to put it plainly: "Head empty. No thoughts. Just vibes." That meme has set some people back so far it's depressing.

[dontforgetukraine]

A Twitter Thread on Peace by Dietmar Pichler

We need to talk about peace.

Peace, the state of existence all sane human beings desire, yet not everyone shares the same understanding of what it truly means.

For the Kremlin, "peace" is a useful term for subjugation, aided by certain Western useful idiots. This is how:

The KGB's infiltration, financing, and control of parts of the so-called "peace movement" began more than half a century ago.

Today, we still particularly feel the effects of the anti-Pershing missile movement of the 1980s.

Not everyone noticed the Soviet influence and unbalanced narrative within the peace movement; some genuinely desired peace. Yet Soviet, East German, and Czech intelligence shaped its anti-Western direction.

"Generals for Peace," founded in 1980/81, was backed by the KGB and East German Stasi. Led by Stasi agent Gerhard Kade, the group aimed to push anti-American sentiment in the peace movement, featuring former NATO generals.

The World Peace Council (WPC), founded in 1949 by the Cominform and backed by the Soviet Union, acted as a Cold War propaganda tool, criticizing the U.S. and its allies while defending Soviet actions in various conflicts.

There were many other organizations with close ties to the Kremlin. Marxist groups and openly communist parties were traditionally pro-Moscow and exclusively criticized the West. Russian embassies in Europe supported and covertly financed their activities.

Some participants in peace demonstrations against "mutual destruction" criticized the movement's pro-Soviet bias and lack of solidarity with those trapped behind the Iron Curtain.

On the other hand, individuals from the Social Democrats, "Young Socialists," and Christian groups participated without criticizing the anti-Western bias.

Many of them are still alive today, maintaining their old networks, and perhaps more significantly, they have retained their anti-Western, anti-NATO, and pro-Moscow mindset, at least to a certain extent. For some, it doesn't matter that the USSR no longer exists.

We know of individuals from the Communist and Social Democratic parties and the church who participated in the "Peace Marches" against NATO rockets in the 1980s and now advocate against weapons support for Ukraine.

Let’s jump to 2014 — after the Russian annexation of Crimea and the covert invasion of Eastern Ukraine, new peace rallies emerge in Germany and Austria, but this time they face criticism for being infiltrated by far-right individuals, conspiracy theorists, and antisemites.

Besides parroting the usual Kremlin talking points, speeches were given about the "world finance conspiracy," "chemtrails disseminated by airplanes," and, of course, how evil the West, the U.S., and the "lying mainstream media" are.

2022, after the full-scale invasion, Russian aggression against Ukraine became undeniable. Previously, many peace activists had denied Russia's actions in Donbass. Now, we hear, similar like after Crimea 2014: "The US, NATO, Ukraine provoked it or share equal blame for the war."

Now the far right seeks to participate as well. Some far-left peace activists collaborate with them due to their shared positive stance on Russia, while others exclude them from their events despite their common views on foreign policy.

There are several "peace organizations" around the world that have shared the same view for decades: The West is to blame, the West needs to negotiate with Russia (as well as Iran and China), and we need to disarm. A strong condemnation of dictators is missing.

Their message—"we need to negotiate," "diplomatic solutions," "weapons don't bring peace"—is accompanied by a collection of Russian talking points, disinformation, and propaganda myths that aim to at least partly "justify" the Russian invasion.

These peace rallies and movements always defend themselves against legitimate criticism in the same way: "Are you against peace?" "You are a warmonger," "We are not on the Russian side; we are on the side of peace."

Peace is undeniably good—who wouldn’t agree? But a certain kind of "hardcore pacifism" allows aggressors to succeed, subjugate, occupy, torture, and kill those who don't defend themselves, yet these questions don’t arise when you think "weapons are always bad" & "hug your enemy".

It’s not just about what they say, but also what they leave out. Russian imperialism, the Kremlin's genocidal propaganda, and the terror of the occupation regime—these are all incompatible with the "peace at all costs" narrative and remain unmentioned.

Then we have to ask ourselves: Why are there participants waving Russian flags or displaying the war symbol "Z"? Why are there speakers at peace rallies and "peace conferences" who have appeared on Russia Today or even on the show of the notorious Russian warmonger Solovyov?

This is only a superficial overview of the activities and narratives of the pro-Kremlin 'Peace Movement.' You are welcome to add further insights.

I believe there is much to discuss, and I should note that much of the information about the flaws and misguided direction of this movement comes from former members who have left it.

One question remains: How can we reclaim the word "peace"? For everyone who supports a sustainable, just peace, this must also mean freedom.

—Dietmar Pichler, disinformation analyst

[sgiandubh]

Honestly, it doesn't matter who you are. The important thing is that you have a great curious spirit.

Dear Curious Spirit Anon,

Thank you, this is incredibly kind of you to say. And you are right: it really does not matter, yet I strongly believe honesty is always the best policy. All risks be damned.

A strong, but sanely managed dose of curiosity is indispensable if you choose law, economics or history. I could never properly choose between the three of them, so I ended up successfully courting each and every one of those. If any of these skills (reading a document, working with archives, understanding trends/cycles/patterns/figures, bringing context to apparently scattered facts, interpreting a text or a speech, highlighting cause and effect, bringing more clarity where there is often none) can help my shipper sisters, then so be it. My work is done, here and I am more than happy to oblige.

And then there's life experience. I lived a lot, I've been through a lot of things you'd never imagine and I did it with open eyes and a wild appetite. If that can bring solace and even a different angle to things, then again: so be it. A bunch of cretins cackling is not enough to spoil my joy. It shouldn't spoil yours, either.

[kellterntempest]

@tyrannysaurusfloof i thought maybe sending you 2,500 words in your askbox wasn't the best way to send this lol and apparently tumblr doesn't let you send documents in DMs, so i have it in separate post here for u!

Stobotnik Subnautica AU fic snippet

Out of all the Earth luxuries Robotnik was forced to live without, he missed music the most. His CDs, his mixtapes, his curated playlists. He missed the deafening pulse of industrial drum and bass, the intricate rhythms of funk and jazz, the comforting pop classics, and invigorating rock melodies that he could dance to.

Robotnik never fully realized just how miserable a world without music could be. He began humming to himself, even sang songs he only half remembered the lyrics to in an effort to stay sane in the deserted, depressing isolation he was surviving in.

And here he was, humming a Tears for Fears tune while he piloted his submarine vessel 500 meters down under the sea. The submarine that Robotnik constructed and christened "The Eggmarine" was holding up perfectly, just as planned. He never made mistakes when it came to engineering, it was just like breathing to him. Physics, math, science, electronics, all of it was second nature.

Robotnik was able to harness the near endless power supply of the blue quill and recycle parts of his prototype – as only an extraordinary genius like him could do – and he created something incredible after losing nearly everything.

The Eggmarine was an engineering marvel in and of itself, but he had even bigger blueprints in progress. His ultimate mission: to construct a space shuttle capable of interstellar travel. He was going to make it back to Earth no matter what. He'd make it home by Christmas. He declared it boldly to himself out loud after barely surviving the crash landing of his prototype on one of the many islands of the alien planet.

Another great feat that the doctor took pride in was the detailed cataloging and analysis of every single new thing about this alien planet. Countless unknown species of flora, fauna, megafauna, biomes and climates, lifeless ruins of what seemed to be some kind of ancient civilization with astounding technology… It was all exhilarating.

Robotnik was at heart a brilliant scientist, and though the circumstances bringing him to this planet were absolutely horrid, he often found himself feeling like a kid discovering the wonders of science again. He intensively studied the new alien technology he found in the ruins – He was so close to cracking the code to their written language – and vastly advanced his progress  surviving on the planet. With the alien technology he was able to build a much improved habitat and small laboratory with ease.

It had been 63 days now since Sonic sent him crashing through the ring portal in Green Hills. If there was anything he had now, it was down time. Day 63, and he'd already recorded over two hundred new species, determined multiple theories of their evolution, mapped out the string of islands he crashed on, not to mention narrowly escaping being killed and eaten countless times by the local mega predators – which there were plenty of.

Robotnik had faced an assorted deadly lineup of insects, poisonous animals, scavengers, hunters and predators both on land and under the sea, and the kings at the top of the food chain: Leviathan class mega predators – gargantuan creatures similar to the dinosaurs back in earth's ancient history.

Robotnik learned very quickly he had to create a predator of his own if he ever wanted to get off this planet unscathed. 

So he did what he did best, and built a robotic mech suit designed for combat, capable of both land and marine travel, and resource gathering. With it, he was now able to hold his own against most predators, and even fought a few different leviathans in the depths of the ocean and escaped the battles unharmed. But stealth was always the best policy so far – less damage to his precious machine, and less risk of being drowned or eaten.

Robotnik had not found anything that resembled anything close to a sentient life form yet, and the chances of doing so were growing smaller and smaller. He laughed out thinking, was it really that different here from the 8 billion barely sentient monkeys back on earth?

"Passing 750 meters. Pressure stabilized." The robotic voice of the vessel's artificial intelligence spoke, showing the status of all ship systems in green. "Scanners indicate traces of nickel ore below, south west."

Robotnik was currently in search of rare minerals to craft his escape plan. Minerals that he determined could only be found beneath the sea floor in a thermal, volcanic climate. 

The A.I. spoke again, this time with a warning. "Detecting multiple leviathan class life forms in the region. Doctor, are you certain whatever you're doing is worth it?"

Of course the exact biome where he needed to go would be crawling with dangerous monsters. The statistical probability that he calculated before was, again, unfortunately proven correct. Of course he had to be right, every time! He thought with a groan. Sometimes, it was worse to be proved right. Even the warm glow of smug satisfaction wears off quickly when you're chased by savage animals out to make you their next meal.

"Shut your trap and keep scanning. I'm not leaving until I get my hands on that ore." Robotnik continued the descent, passing tall black hydrothermal vents – a good sign that he was heading in the right direction.

There was no sound now but the engine's hum, and the steady ping of the sonar system every 7 seconds.

984 meters. Ping. The sonar mapped out the deep trench he was in, and showed a massive crevice opening further down. He was getting readings of small-scale volcanic eruptions in this region, and hoped that crevice was the entrance to his destination.

A loud, organic screech passed through the dark waters, and Robotnik instinctively rushed to hit silent mode.

The internal and external lights went out, and the engine shifted gears. Robotnik sat in the pilot seat, frozen, waiting for another noise.

It was almost worse that he heard nothing.

The artificial intelligence spoke up quickly, casting information in red in the control screens. "Proximity Alert: Threat Detected. Leviathan class life form."

Robotnik cursed out loud, white knuckling the control wheel. 

"Proximity: 50 meters." The A.I. stated. "25… 10… brace for impact."

The side of the sub was hit by something colossal, and Robotnik was nearly thrown out of the pilot chair.

Then another uncomfortably loud sound – a roar vibrating through the metallic chambers and utterly harrowing.

A leviathan predator. A reaper - he recognized the horrible sound.

He didn't have any weapons mounted on the Eggmarine, and he couldn't launch his mech suit and fight back – he was in completely unknown territory and what looked to be about 400 more meters to the bottom of the trench. His mech suit couldn't make it up 400 meters straight up back to the submarine, and no way could he safely swim back to his Eggmarine without getting snapped up. Nightmare scenario again. He could only sit tight, stay on course, and hope the predator would lose interest and leave, or kick engines in high gear and make a break for it.

The sub was hit again, and the alarms began sounding. "Hull damage imminent."

The leviathan was not going to leave.

Robotnik slammed the switches and revved up the engine to full speed. He had to get the hell out of here. The only way through was down.

He was sure every creature in the region could hear the Eggmarine's engines and the roars of the reaper leviathan.

"New Threat Detected: Another Leviathan class life form. Proximity: 58 meters."

Oh no.

Ping. The sonar sounded, and the red outline of another large shape was dead ahead of the submarine's path of escape.

Ping. The shape grew bigger, and it was coming straight for him.

"Proximity Alert: 25 meters."

Robotnik jumped out of his skin, his heart beating out of his chest. "Fucking hell!" He shoved the control wheel forward to avoid the impact. "Nononono!"

The submarine descended sharply, and the leviathan behind him roared, but it was interrupted halfway from a second massive sound bellowing through the depths. The second leviathan growled – but it was completely different from the first – like a harsh rumbling of thunder ending with rhythmic clicking.

"Danger: Engine overheating." Robotnik heard a blast coming from the engine bay.

Everything was going to hell. He couldn't leave the bridge to attend to the fire he knew had started, not with two giant monsters about to tear his ship apart.

The sonar pinged, and Robotnik could see the two leviathans grappling together. It was hard to make out the image from the red flash that lasted only seconds, but it seemed as if they were fighting – it sounded horrible, with the two huge predators growling, howling, and snapping at each other. Roars pierced through the darkness, and the top of the vessel was hit again, worse this time.

"Hull compromised - storage bay ceiling."

Robotnik was flung forwards from the mighty impact of the leviathans. “Damn it, come on! Go!” He hissed, reorienting himself on the controls and leaning into them as if it would make the sub go faster. He saw a blink of movement in the glass, a blur of 2 long tails and fins swiftly passing the front of the bridge, so fast he could barely make it out in the dark.

Robotnik shoved the wheel as far forward as possible, plummeting the vessel in a rapid descent. "Not today you hungry mongrels! This snack is out of your league!" He taunted through clenched teeth.

If he could only reach the crevice, maybe he could find a place to hide, buy time to repair the hull damage, and stand his ground against the leviathans in the mech suit. The engines had to burn for a little longer, there was no other choice.

But the universe had other plans.

"Engine Damage Critical. Shutting Down."

"AARGH– give me a big, fat break!!" Robotnik yelled in frustration, still pushing the wheel hard.

The Eggmarine's movement slowed to a halt, floating dead in the water.

Ping. The sonar marked the vast, empty space of his location in the ocean, in a trench about 700 kilometers wide with mountainous walls going nearly straight upwards on either side of it.

There was 1 dot left on his display. 1 leviathan.

Threat Proximity: 20 meters. 

There was nothing Robotnik could do. The sub's engine was down, a breach was ripping the hull, and a hungry, territorial leviathan was coming for him.

The creature sounded – a short, clicking rumble. It was the second leviathan, the one Robotnik had never heard before.

It was swimming up from the deep, still chasing him after surviving and presumably winning its deadly fight with the reaper.

The sonar rang out again. Ping.

The creature responded to the sonar with the same short rumble, ending with an ascending trill.

Robotnik leaned forward, brows furrowed at this new behavior. He switched off the sonar and floodlights and watched anxiously for movement.

Something slowly floated up into view of the glass dome of the Eggmarine's bridge.

Robotnik saw scaled and finned limbs coming from the dark, and they gently landed on the glass below him. He counted three, no, four arm-like appendages.

They almost resembled… webbed hands, pressed against the glass. They lifted, and tapped the glass several times, almost experimentally. The bang of the glass nearly gave Robotnik a heart attack.

The creature swam from beneath the glass up until it was directly in front of the pilot's control panel. The leviathan made no noise since the last sonar soundwave, and stayed in its spot facing the front glass of the bridge, its body swishing slowly side to side in the darkness.

Robotnik was almost afraid to turn the exterior flood lights back on, but he had to know what kind of beast was staring him in the face. 

This leviathan was an entirely different species from any other he'd seen. It was slightly smaller in length than the reaper, but its body was much thicker and more mammalian. Its underbelly looked smooth, but its 6 limbs, spine and tail were scaled and armored. Its lower pair of arms were tucked into itself, and the top two arms swayed in front. It had two powerful muscular legs that were treading slowly in the water, and its long, spined tail snaked along with them.

Its head was more frighteningly humanoid than he would ever have expected. In its face were multiple sets of eyes squinting back, blinking rapidly from the bright floodlights. Small clusters of bubbles escaped from gills on either side of its neck, and 2 long, thin rays coming out of either side of its head with bioluminescent bulbs at the end. 

Robotnik turned the sonar back on. A single ping.

The creature rumbled back, and it almost sounded like a whale's call in an attempt to imitate the sonar's frequency. It made no sudden movements, continuing to tread in place with unhurried motions.

Robotnik breathed out a shaken gasp of relief. This creature, whatever it was, didn't seem to see him on its menu right now. However, he had no time to investigate the intentions of the leviathan, he had engine fires to put out and a catastrophic implosion to prevent.

He left the sonar on to keep the creature distracted, switched the internal lights back on and ran full speed into the engine room to extinguish the fires. A thin stream of water was steadily spraying like a fire hydrant from a small breach in the plasteel ceiling that was getting worse every minute from the massive pressure of about 1200 PSI from the outside.

Robotnik yanked the repair tool off the wall, and clipped his harness to the suspension support and hauled himself up into the air to reach the storage bay ceiling.

He focused on welding the breach as best he could through the low visibility of the water flying everywhere and covering his goggles.

"It's just another day!" He shouted above the noise of the welding. "Just another day in the life of Dr. Ivo Robotnik, greatest man on earth AND planet 4546B! Day 63, boldly going! It's Tuesday back home! Stupid blue alien rat and its stupid magic rings!"

A strange, fuzzy sensation suddenly passed through his head. It was like a soft static of a distant radio, organic sounds garbled and unintelligible within. It was growing louder and louder. Robotnik cursed out loud. What the hell was next? Had he developed some new medical or psychological condition from a dangerous stimuli he'd unknowingly interacted with? 

There was a painful pop of pressure in his head, as if the air pressure had climbed steeply in seconds – and the static noise stopped, both his ears started ringing a high pitched drone.

But Robotnik kept welding, he couldn't stop or he'd be dead in minutes, crushed from the impending implosion.

Finally, the water subsided, and the breach was closed.

Robotnik hung suspended in the air in his harness, breathing hard through the adrenaline rush and pain in his ears and head.

He slid down, and landed unsteadily on his feet on the metal floor. Back to the bridge. He was certain that all the noise from the Eggmarine's roaring engines and the leviathan fight would attract other predators.

The leviathan was gone from the view of the glass dome.

The sonar went off, and Robotnik saw the creature was floating in place beside the top of the sub, close to where the hull breach was. And now, it was swimming back into view of the bridge again.

Robotnik swallowed a prickle of fear. What the hell was it doing?

The high pitched ringing was at its loudest now. Robotnik leaned over the console, elbows hitting the metal, and clasped both hands to the side of his head, pushing them hard against his skull in a panicked effort to make the pain stop.

But the agonizing drone faded sharply into nothing, and was replaced with something else – a voice, soft and low pitched, echoing clear inside his head. 

"Who…are…you?"

[raffinit]

hi- you probably get messages about this all the time which I get might irritate you. sorry in advance, but I wanted to at least ask on the off chance you say yes. would you be willing to share a pdf of your sylvaina fic entanglements? I'm not exaggerating when I say that your fic helped keep me sane during my hospital shifts during the pandemic and I still re-read it every couple of months when I need a pick-me-up. I went back for a re-read yesterday and saw you deleted it due to personal attacks in your comment section. I'm sorry that happened to you and completely understand the scorched earth policy in regards to dealing with people being awful. Please don't take my request as critical of that- I just enjoyed your fic enough that it seemed at least worth it to ask you about it. I don't mind contributing to a paypal/patreon/kofi if you're keeping your deleted sylvaina fics as tiered content or even just as compensation for the inconvenience of my request. I've rewritten this ask so many times that it probably sounds stilted and awkward, but I just wanted to try to convey my sincere enjoyment of your work as the main reason for why I'm reaching out to you. thank you for your time!

Thank you for your very kind words. It’s always nice to hear that people did/do enjoy the fics without the mess of fandom politics and what-have-yous.

I do have the files to share, and I did plan on sharing them if the need ever arose, and you can have them here!

…as soon as I figure out how to do that

[mrboogerlip]

Role-swap perhaps? 🤔

Without the burden of the mafia life, Rolando’s life in this alternate universe is actually quite normal. His family is lively as usual and his parents always encouraged him and his siblings to be independent, so he still maintains that aspect of himself. He was still rebellious and quite the troublemaker as a teenager– so much so that he was sent to a boot camp for delinquents! It was there that he (kind of, but not really) straightened out and gained an interest in law enforcement.

Rolando still has his earrings– he just removes them when he’s on duty since it’s the policy. It'd probably be easier if he just removed them entirely, but he's really persistent about keeping his style! XD

On top of how Estevan's family life already was, he also has the added burden of the mafia life. The “business” being owned by his mother, she encouraged him to live the life as a mobster to the fullest, so as to not make a fool of himself in front of others in the underworld. To Estevan, this meant taking pride in his work. (And trying to enjoy the nightlife... among other things LOL the one universe where Estevan isn't a virgin...) He “taught” himself to enjoy assassinating his targets– to enjoy destroying people’s lives in everything else that he does... All to keep himself sane. If it all makes Rana happy, then... he's happy! Right?

This outfit is actually one of the outfits he has in canon– just with a coat added!! Can you believe it? Estevan is just one coat away from becoming this version of himself...

The story is a little different... While Rolando is with law enforcement, he isn’t undercover. He’s just a regular cop who stumbled upon Estevan doing… his usual business … and thus started a silly little rivalry between them! Estevan practically enjoyed getting found by Rolando! Rolando is one of the only people who could keep up with him, while Rolando just likes Estevan because he’s exciting… and hot! Estevan typically made an escape before Rolando could truly catch him– and even when he did catch him, Rolando would just… have his way with Estevan LOL

Wow, it’s kind of hilarious how why they like each other has been switched around between them XD

Where are the other characters? Well, it’s only Estevan’s and Rolando’s families that have swapped roles. Since Rolando’s family is basically normal, they don’t really have important roles… Unless they have something secret going on that I don’t know about?! Ed is gone from Estevan’s life as usual LOL I always think Estevan would be more grounded if his father was around, so we can't have that. He has to be as obsessive as his mother or else it won't be the same... Aaaand I really don't know what to say about everyone else.

It’s kind of funny to think that Rolando would be getting along with Morgan as his superior when Morgan hates Rolando’s guts in the canon story…

Honestly, I don’t think I thought about this that well. I basically discarded some elements to their world that are in the canon story, which seems kind of lazy. But maybe I can think of it more some other day XD

Sorry for taking nearly half a year to respond to this!! I was waiting until I thought of something good... Which I never did, but I tried!!

[iteratedextras]

[anon]

I feel like there's a recurring pattern of discourse from people who have some idea that the left establishment is fucked up but don't want to admit how deeply unsalvageable it is, where they blame the motte-and-bailey-ing on academics being bad at communicating and using obscure field-specific jargon in inflammatory public contexts where people don't have the background to understand them, but then you actually check what the obscure field-specific jargon is and where it came from and what it means and it's always some shit like "'Slaughtering the white children' is a sociology concept introduced by scholar Joan de Cia in her 1978 essay We Must Slaughter The White Children. In the essay, de Cia describes 'the white children' as a symbol for the vain hopes of capital, and states that if a classless society is ever to be achieved, these hopes must be destroyed by means of violence."

Ah, you mean like that time a local non-insane leftist wonk read through "Decolonization is not a metaphor" and discovered the line "decolonization is not accountable to [...] settler futurity"?:

Which, well...

The surface reading of the term "decolonize" is that the entire "settler" population fucks off and leaves the continent, taking all their equipment and buildings with them and rolling the entire geographic area back to the year 1491.

Which sounds a lot like...

Breaking the settler colonial triad, in direct terms, means repatriating land to sovereign Native tribes and nations, abolition of slavery in its contemporary forms, and the dismantling of the imperial metropole. [...] For social justice movements, like Occupy, to truly aspire to decolonization nonmetaphorically, they would impoverish, not enrich, the 99%+ settler population of United States. Decolonization eliminates settler property rights and settler sovereignty. It requires the abolition of land as property and upholds the sovereignty of Native land and people. 

afloweroutofstone found no more concrete description of what "decolonization" is supposed to entail.

Terms like "eliminate whiteness" and "spirit-murdering" are almost certainly no different. It's doubtful there's any proposed definition of "spirit-murdering" concrete enough to rule someone "not-guilty."

If the surface reading is extremely hostile, and the "technical" reading is a bunch of vague gibberish, it should be assumed that the speaker is intentionally choosing to be extremely hostile, especially among left-wingers who are highly focused on "harmful" language.

afloweroutofstone, like max1461, has to treat the subject with kid gloves. Noting that "Decolonization is not a metaphor" is like this is a way for him to slowly walk the insane people in his movement away from * checks notes * indigenous irredentism explicitly completely unconcerned with the fallout that might have on the vast majority of the population, and not get deplatformed by the insane ideological vanguard.

Many sane leftists are essentially followed by Nazis. Rightists are too, of course, it's just that it's often presented as only Rightists.

Some of these guys probably don't really believe in this and are just trying to push the overton window, but it should be noted that a number of right-wing Twitter users claim that they weren't right-wing 10 years ago. (I think that's credible because *I* wasn't as right-wing 10 years ago.)

Others are likely just social consensus followers that are allergic to like, math, or other elements of trying to synthesize a concrete policy.

[blackberry-command-cap]

SWTOR OC catalog 🧀🧀

yea ok I don't have energy for fancy formatting but have some rambling descriptions (I guess it's fine tho bc if I gave introductions in real life it would not be any more coherant (more often than not I go to introduce someone and turns out I had their name wrong for WEEKS) )

but yes here are all my SWTOR OCs

Ga’eon Kachymov AKA Glen Iruusi AKA Lord Srije Narakati AKA TBD (Yes I like coming up with names why do you ask)

tagged oc: worst sith ever (+ anxiety)

Male Mirialan Sith Warrior. Complete cinnamon roll and worst possible person to be a Sith (affectionate). Baras took advantage of his inclination to trust (AKA gullibility) and messed him up big time. Anxiety and Imposter Syndrome made worse by the constant threat of death. But he’s got Vette and the Force and his love for plants, so it'll probably be okay?

Hopefully going to end up married to Jaesa Willsaam (but in my head she’s a totally different person) with two+ Mandalorian kids but either of them could definitely mess that up between here and the end of the class story.

Currently playing through Corellia (home stretch let's goooo)

A’la’zena AKA Cipher Nine

tagged oc: a'la'zena

Female Twi’lek Agent. My best attempt at Chaotic Good. Arrogant, contrary and despises feeling controlled more than anything else (Act II was nearly enough to turn her genocidal and it probably would have succeeded if not for bugboi). Always does the right thing but by her standards, not anyone else’s. Enjoys luxury and partying with her BFF Kaliyo. After Act III, took the Black Codex and disappeared. Now she runs a grassroots Space Illuminati 2.0: Chaotic Good version. Yes, it’s probably going to fail spectacularly. Yes, she’s pink. Don’t tell her.

Happily married to her emotional support bug with one adopted kid who will have no hope of a normal childhood. Shae’zena’s sister.

Currently done with the class story, with no intention of doing the expansions and plans to do a second playthrough.

Master Periflynn AKA the Bar’san’thor AKA area man officially so done with this

tagged oc: periflynn (tired)

Male human Consular (HC him as near human species that lives far longer). Practical above all else and duty bound to the Jedi. The only sane person in the entire Republic and very tired of dealing with everyone else’s messes. There to get things done and has no patience for pointless rhetoric or stupid people. Please stop putting him in management.

Proficient deadpan snarker, slicer, mechanic, and swoop bike pilot. Geeks out about software with Theran Cedrex. Nadia drags him to all the important ceremonies he’s supposed to appear at. Despises impractical ceremonial robes more than anything.

Diligently following the Jedi “no romantic attachments” policy and completely fine with that.

Currently done with the class story, with plans to play through the expansions at some point.

Captain Shae’zena

tagged oc: chaotic woke ✌️☮️🌼

Female Twi’lek Smuggler. Biggest ray of sunshine ever who also kicks butt. Flower child california hippie vibes. Takes nothing seriously except when innocent people are getting hurt, and then she's deadly serious. Founder of the Feminism Brigade; supports #killiklivesmatter

Largely exists because all my other OCs are very polite and serious, and I wanted at least one chill snarker who can say all the things that the others would think but not say.

Corso Riggs and *sigh* Doc currently under consideration for the position of bf. Depends on whether he (either of them) learns to respect her or not. Theron is also a definite possibility :D

Currently on Alderaan, with plans to play through at least KOTET.

Other, less developed OCs/OCs I may or may not actually play

Ffeud - Male Chiss Agent. Manipulative bastard who also somehow exudes the overwhelming impression that he is a trustworthy friend who would never lie to you and never did anything wrong. Unclear how he does it, because every aspect of that impression is completely wrong. Potentially force sensitive? A’la’zena immediately hates his guts.

Valkerie Beausoleil - Female Human Inquisitor. Literally and figuratively the black sheep of the Beausoleil family due to her ✨raven black hair✨ and strong force sensitivity. Disowned by her family, she becomes Sith anyway, determined to free the Empire from the rule of old complacent traditionalists set in their ways.

[finniestoncrane]

Hello, I’m her for sit-in! I’d like a glass of water with an order of pumpkin ravioli and a side of sweet potato fries

☺️Thank you🍽️

general!scarecrow x gn!reader, word count: 250 content (warnings): sack man gets some soft, quiet love the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block)a/n: anon i hope this quiet comfort was enough for you!! 💚

There were at least eight guards watching you, and that was only the ones that you could see in your peripheral vision. The rare occasions when you were permitted a visit with Jonathan were always heavily monitored, both of you locked into the visiting room, guards stationed in pairs at every possible exit, surrounding the table in the middle of the room, monitoring you both for even the slightest movement, the slightest provocation.

It took everything in you not to reach for Jonathan's hand, to offer him some physical comfort, something you were sure he'd had none of since being locked up again. But there was a strict no contact policy, and the last thing you wanted was to lose visitation rights. You were the only thing keeping him sane, you felt.

So instead, you looked into each other's eyes across the table. Staring intensely, deeply, in complete but knowing silence. Every moment he spent in your understanding and adoring gaze healed a moment of pain and fury, restored his confidence in himself, in his work. Just by being in your presence, the wounds of time were cauterised, left to scar and fade into a memory.

Before you both knew it, the alarm sounded, not so much as a word passed between you the whole time except for the breathless "hellos" you shared when you sat down together exactly an hour ago. But now, as you stood, Jonathan finally spoke.

"You'll be in my dreams."

With a smile, you returned the sentiment.

"And you'll be in my nightmares."

It was enough for him just to know that.