#it allows for the possibility of so much harm

[naamahdarling]

I'm probably going to piss some people off with this, but.

The use of AI and machine learning for harmful purposes is absolutely unacceptable.

But that isn't an innate part of what it does.

Apps or sites using AI to generate playlists or reading lists or a list of recipes based on a prompt you enter: absolutely fantastic, super helpful, so many new things to enjoy, takes jobs from no-one.

Apps or sites that use a biased algorithm (which is AI) which is not controllable by users or able to be turned off by them, to push some content and suppress others to maximize engagement and create compulsive behavior in users: unethical, bad, capitalism issue, human issue.

People employing genAI to create images for personal, non-profit use and amusement who would not have paid someone for the same service: neutral, (potential copyright and ethics issue if used for profit, which would be a human issue).

People incorporating genAI as part of their artistic process, where the medium of genAI is itself is a deliberate part of the artist's technique: valid, interesting.

Companies employing genAI to do the work of a graphic designer, and websites using genAI to replace the cost of stock photos: bad, shitty, no, capitalist and ethical human issue.

People attacking small artists who use it with death threats and unbelievable vitriol: bad, don't do that.

AI used for spell check and grammar assistance: really great.

AI employed by eBay sellers to cut down on the time it takes to make listings: good, very helpful, but might be a bad idea as it does make mistakes and that can cost them money, which would be a technical issue.

AI used to generate fake product photos: deceptive, lazy, bad, human ethical issue.

AI used to identify plagiarism: neutral; could be really helpful but the parameters are defined by unrealistic standards and not interrogated by those who employ it. Human ethical issue.

AI used to analyze data and draw up complex models allowing detection of things like cancer cells: good; humans doing this work take much longer, this gives results much faster and allows faster intervention, saving lives.

AI used to audit medical or criminal records and gatekeep coverage or profile people: straight-up evil. Societal issue, human ethical issue.

AI used to organize and classify your photos so you don't have to spend all that time doing it: helpful, good.

AI used to profile people or surveil people: bad and wrong. Societal issue, human issue, ethical issue.

I'm not going to cover the astonishingly bad misinformation that has been thrown out there about genAI, or break down thought distortions, or go into the dark side of copyright law, or dive into exactly how it uses the data it is fed to produce a result, or explain how it does have many valid uses in the arts if you have any imagination and curiosity, and I'm not holding anyone's hand and trying to walk them out of all the ableism and regurgitated capitalist arguments and the glorification of labor and suffering.

I just want to point out: you use machine learning (AI) all the time, you benefit from it all the time. You could probably identify many more examples that you use every day. Knee-jerk panicked hate reflects ignorance, not sound principles.

You don't have beef with AI, you have beef with human beings, how they train it, and how they use it. You have beef with capitalism and thoughtlessness. And so do I. I will ruthlessly mock or decry misuse or bad use of it. But there is literally nothing inherently bad in the technology.

I am aware of and hate its misuse just as much as you do. Possibly more, considering that I am aware of some pretty heinous ways it's being used that a lot of people are not. (APPRISS, which is with zero competition for the title the most evil use of machine learning I have ever seen, and which is probably being used on you right now.)

You need to stop and actually think about why people do bad things with it instead of falling for the red herring and going after the technology (as well as the weakest human target you can find) every time you see those two letters together.

You cannot protect yourself and other people against its misuse if you cannot separate that misuse against its neutral or helpful uses, or if you cannot even identify what AI and machine learning are.

[phantomsies]

𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 | 𝖆. 𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

spending the evening with a man who could have any girl he wants but he proves why it’s always been you…

producer/nepobaby armin, musician au, black fem reader, dancer!reader (reader is in Pole Assassins), soft sex, back scratching, lots of intimacy, slow kissing, oral sex (f. receiving) body worship, banter between armin and reader, missionary, creampie, slow build/burn (?)

I’ve been suffering from a severe case of armin brain rot lately and I’ve been missing the musician au even more!! this is a reupload from my patreon so if you read this, no you didn’t! 🫶🏾

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He’d traveled the world once over…experienced a lifetime full of adventures at only a mere two decades into his life. From sailing on yachts as a child, exploring the ocean in between piano lessons and algebra courses…to making music with his friends that would touch the lives of people in every nation and becoming a household name in the process. However, Armin Artlert’s notoriety had transcended that of just playlists and edits by adoring fans. He harbored a reputation that had come to precede him throughout his duration as an artist and internet sensation. The infamous ArminHammer was notorious for two things: iconic instrumentals and his expansive roster of women. Every girl of every variety was at his disposable..models, strippers, actresses, singers, the single mom who happened to attend one of their shows and needed a good time. He wasn’t picky nor did he allow preference to stand in the way of fulfilling his carnal desires. Make no mistake, he didn’t dog his women out or harm them..hell, if anything, he made every girl he encountered feel like a princess. Spoiling them with gifts, expensive dinners and of course, the best sex you’d ever experience! To put it even more bluntly, the man fucked like a professional..he was skilled in many areas and the bedroom happened to be the top.

But perhaps, that was the issue…he was the ideal man in every essence of the word. He’d make any lady feel as if she’d met her prince charming!..

….so how could you ever believe him when he said that you were the one he’d been searching for this entire time?

How could you possibly think that you’d be the sole object of his affection when it seemed those regards could be said of any women who’d crossed his path? Honestly, there was no definite answer to convince you otherwise. Armin was aware that you’d always kept your ear to the streets and had been informed about how he operated. That was all but confirmed when your teammate and friend began dating his childhood homie. Another infamous artist by the name of EJ the Don. Much like the woman who had founded the very group you were a part of, the Pole Assassins, EJ was seen as the proverbial leader of his own collective, Dead Boys Society and although they both despised the labels, you still respected her as such.

you could also sense that Armin held the same regard for his best friend and fellow artist. He looked up to Eren and admired how focused, driven and goal oriented he was in his craft. Most importantly though, he admired the way he loved..

EJ was never known to be a romantic nor was he known to be entrenched in the dating scene, but once he began dating your team mate, he had transitioned into an entirely different man. One that was attentive, doting and even a little jealous. He was openly affectionate with her and never thought twice about it. Gushing about her in interviews, where prior, he would’ve never even mentioned a woman besides his mom. It was that complete switch that had activated something within Armin as well. What he had been seeking in multiple girls could only be found in one place and that was with (y/n) (l/n). He’d spent all this time around you and had found himself falling deeper for you than he had anyone else. Your laugh, your energy, your spirit and kind heart had all enraptured the heart of the notorious playboy. And you couldn’t fool yourself either..you’d become smitten with him just the same…however, you were guarded. You weren’t so far deluded in the fantasy of being with him that you’d soon forgotten his reputation! You weren’t perfect by a long shot either..God knows, you’d partaken in your fair share of hookups and dated a couple of athletes just to say you did. Even so, you felt a hint of insecurity. How could you ever satisfy his cravings when he’d sampled the whole platter?! That was a question you’d soon find the answer to when you decided to spend a weekend at his home. A lofty, luxurious penthouse that overlooked the city and beaches of the sunny Miami, Florida.

it was a beautiful place and one of the many pieces of real estate owned by the Artlert conglomerate. One thing you’d come to learn about Armin was that music was nothing more than a beloved hobby. As much as he poured into his craft, his financial situation wouldn’t waver in the slightest if he were to stop today. He’d grown up with billionaires for family and that generational wealth had certainly trickled down. Regardless, it wasn’t his sole identity, hence why it’d never arise in conversation. It was blatantly obvious in his lifestyle choices but he was still that innocent, nerdy, wide eyed boy he’d always been to his core. The sensitive, kind, gentle Armin that only a select few witnessed. That was the side he wanted you to see here tonight..

so as you traipsed across the marble accented floors and art littered walls of his penthouse..all the way to his bedroom, you’d realize that you were where you belonged.

“You coming to lie down, beautiful? You’ve been in there forever.”

“Just a few more minutes, I promise! I wanna make sure I’m looking right.”

honestly, he didn’t understand all of the trouble. He’d seen you fully nude and completely clothed..you were beautiful no matter the form. Hell, you could come out in a plastic bag and pair of Timberlands and he’d still be hungry for you! He loved you dearly and nothing could dare to change that fact now! But after you two had retreated to his bedroom after an evening out on the town and he’d longed since undressed, you insisted on going to the bathroom and freshening up with a shower before retreating to bed. However, there was one more

“Well hurry up, please. I miss you..” stating in a whiny tone as he flailed himself against the mattress. Arms stretched out atop the pillow as his shirtless top half grazed the sheets. His designer boxers rubbed viciously with the silk bed linen, causing a bit of friction. Outside of the glass window pane, fell heavy droplets of pouring rain to set the already sensual mood. Electronic candles flickered in the corner and soft melodies of R&B played from the mounted television. It was certainly a vibe that you could become accustomed to. Across from where he lay, sat a half empty bottle of Modavi and two glasses that had been previously filled with the liquid. You were both feeling a bit tipsy from the substances coursing your veins so it was apparent what the mood was for the evening. He couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer and fortunately for him, you didn’t keep him held up. Because it was as he was getting ready to lie back down, he’d hear the faint tapping of footsteps against the tile and be greeted with a sight that would soothe his soul and sore eyes alike…

“Well I’m sorry to keep you waiting ..” flashing him a cheeky smile in regards to his earlier comment. Instantly, his jaw fell slack and his top half arose from the bed to examine you over.

“Oh my—you look—…. damn, I can’t even talk. You got me speechless, girl.”

sending you into a fit of giggles as you showed off your ensemble for him. A sheer white, lace two piece with garters that wrapped your thick thighs, a thong that was swallowed up by those round cheeks and a bra that accentuated your voluptuous breasts..causing them to sit upright. You were glistening with oil, and that luscious brown skin shimmered in the candlelight. Those forty inches of black curls were styled into an updo atop your head, along with that diamond necklace he had procured for you a few weeks ago. Even this was a first for Armin..he’d spent his fair share of evenings with the ladies but it always involved moments of rushed disrobing and him trying to get in their pants as quickly as possible. He didn’t waste time with lingerie or fancy frills because the goal was to grant her the best sex possible. Of course, he obtained gratification from this as well..but sometimes, he craved more. More than just the act of sex itself…it was intimacy he desired. The subtle touches and little gestures that helped to curate that special moment..he wanted to take his time and give you an experience that you’d soon yet forget.

“..then I guess it was worth the trouble..” his reaction elicited a light chuckle as you veered over to the bed, crawling onto the mattress and into the embrace of your precious lover. It was warm, inviting almost…strangely enough, an unwavering sense of safety crept over you as well. All of those previous thoughts of insecurity and jealousy seemed to dissipate once his hands coiled your body. He’d pull you in a little closer, squeeze you a little tighter and when his lips finally clashed with your own, every worry that had plagued either of your worlds were mere afterthoughts.

“God, you’re so beautiful..I swear you wear the hell out of everything you put on..”

“You’re too charming for your own good, you know that? It’s gon’ get you in trouble one day.”

“I like the sound of that.”

the tender and humorous moment was shared underneath the flickering candlelight as your flesh melded into one. Sitting upright in a cross legged position, your calves coiled his lower back and your arms cradled the back of his neck. Meanwhile, his hands resided around your waist and maintained a firm grip. He could hear your sentiment but even he grew skeptical at times. He often worried would his past elude him and ruin any potential future he could procure with you. All of his other prospects were nothing more than fleeting memories now. Even for someone as confident and skilled as Armin was, he experienced any other emotion just the same..maybe even more. Regardless, you’d continue to quell his anxiety and ease any doubt in his mind that you were leaving anytime soon. With those soft touches and gentle kisses, slowly but surely, you’d melt away all that rattled his mind. Eventually, your tongues would find home within one another’s mouths, initiating a series of sloppy pecks in process. It was then that you’d also begin to feel the thin straps of that top gliding down your shoulder blade. He just wanted to make you feel the best you had in a long time and he’d take as long as he needed to fulfill that obligation. He owed it to you for all of the insurmountable love you’d given him.

“Armin…baby..”

a faint whisper escaped your now freed lips as he latched onto your neck following the broken kiss. He’d gently suckle on that deep colored flesh and leave a trail of pecks along your jugular vein, even along your earlobe…it was there that he’d merely nip at the skin and whisper into it. Which sent a barrage of tingles all over your body.

“Yes, sweetheart? Something on your mind?”

“Ahh—“ “..words, baby. Let me hear that shit.”

that lilt in his tone, a clear indicator that he was going to relentlessly tease you from here on out. You always became so anxious when he did but the buildup made the actual moments all the more worth it. “You can tell me anything you want, pretty girl. This is all for you..your space. Whatever you say…I’ll do it.” His words serve to entice you further, which took little to no effort at all. You were already sucked in with no chance of being free of his clutches anytime soon. As for your requests, it was easy.

“Just…make me feel good, please..make love to me..”

it was a definite statement; one he understood loud and clear. Now wasn’t the time to be prideful or allow his ego to cloud his perception. Rather than showing off, Armin wanted to fully submit himself to you and to the cause of giving you whatever your heart…and body desired. With that, you’d find yourself shrouded in another round of kisses, this time along your shoulder blades and eventually to those soft breasts. Gently kneading them between his fingertips, he’d circle the buds with his thumb and watch as they’d grow erect. “Mmmm..” “..that feels good, sweetheart?” Following his question with a whimpering nod as you examined his movements. He’d gently squeeze them together and massage them all over, just to make you feel more at ease. He always did love how supple and perky they were..how they sat so perfectly in your tops or dresses. He’d learned to view the female body as more than just a vessel of pleasure but instead, for the work of art it is. You were his divine masterpiece..his treasure and he wanted to appreciate every single square inch of your physique. Even the areas you didn’t exactly appreciate yourself…

“Good..I know how sensitive they are but that’s okay. I’ll be gentle.” Chuckling at your very visible reactions of having your nipples played with. It was your most erogenous area and he knew it’d only be a matter of time before you became even more aroused. That much was indicated by the way you ground your clothed slit into the mattress. (Y/N) eventually tossed your head back, rolling it onto your shoulders and emitting a sharp gasp. An expected reaction to all of the sensual friction and stimulation. None of which was lost on Armin. He’d shift a bit in his own positioning, attempting to conceal that obvious erect. This was a fine solely for your pleasure and needs. His urges could wait as far as he was concerned. He was determined to prove that he was fully and utterly devoted to you right now. The sounds of melodic love songs and pouring rain would continue to serve as the soundtrack to this precious moment. Right along with your sweet moans and his subtle grunts. You’d glance down to see the rising tent within his boxers as he began to lap all over your areolae and suckle on your brown buds. “Your tits are so perfect, angel. I love them so much..I love all of you. Every single part..” Constantly doting as he persisted..that’s when you’d reach down and grasp for that sheathed cock but he’d be equally as quick to stop you.

“Ignore it, okay? Right now is about you. I’m focused on making you feel good, just like I promised. You don’t need to do a thing.” This was what you appreciate about your man. He had such a calm, gentle demeanor. Something people would often mistake as sensitive or meek. But in the same vein, he could harness that into a dominant, masculine energy that required no assertiveness. You felt safe..secure within that space. You felt comfortable submitting yourself fully to him.

“It’s like you're everything I’ve ever prayed for..I’m so lucky.” Akin to that of a groom bedding his bride on the night of their wedding, Armin would lie his precious girl flat against the mattress and begin his descent down your body. Examining each line, touching each bump and worshiping every curve as if they were a gift from the heavens above. They certainly weren’t things that he took for granted. Especially when he finally made home with that divine center…spreading open your trembling thighs; courtesy of the gentle kisses and drawn out licksthat had been peppered all over your belly. “Mmmm…I love when you touch me like this. You always know what to do..” placing his thumbs along your pantyline, he’d rub your hips before placing two fingertips along the seat of your bottoms. “Of course, I told you…I’ll do whatever you want. All you gotta do is say it.” Naturally, the entire area was soaked and only accruing more stickiness the more he stroked your clothed bud. In an attempt to increase the friction and pleasure riddling your body, Armin would hone in on the clit and massage it until he felt you shaking in his grasp.

“Oh my God..” “Rub your nipples for me, sweetheart. I wanna see you get there so bad but I don’t want to rush..not right now.” Finally, he’d cease his teasing and peel back that thin layer of fabric, revealing your plump mound and lips, along with that swollen clit. You were practically throbbing and the second he grazed your skin, you’d instinctively contract. Those juices were already leaking before he could even think to touch or lap at the area. Meanwhile, you’d pinch and pull at the now stiffened buds on your chest, writhing in the sheets as you chewed at your lip. “You’re so cute when you make that face.” Chuckling whilst teasing the hard little pearl that had caused your entire body to heat up. “Aw, you just want that nut, don’t you, baby?” “Fuck—uh, yes..please.” Immediately shuttering at the idea of ruining such a sensual moment with profanity. However, Armin didn’t mind at all. In fact, it further encouraged him to get you there. “I know you do…I wanna give it to you so bad too..”

Normally, this was an opportunity he’d utilize to tease you relentlessly. Holding out on providing you with your orgasm, making you wait before he even made the slightest of movements…all of it in an attempt to get you riled up. Right there on the edge until you finally broke, all but pleading with him to give you what you wanted. But tonight?

“Ahh!—haaaa..yes..” “Uh, fuck…lemme taste you…please lemme eat this puss—“ his words trailing off into mere whiny drabble as his lips made home on your lower ones. Immediately, those pretty blue eyes of his were fixated on you as he delved into your center. The sounds of slurping and whimpering emitting from his mouth and only growing louder. With your legs parted on each side, (y/n) grasped the top of Armin’s head; clawing at those shaggy blonde curls whilst grinding yourself against his face. “Arminnnn…oh my gosh…right there.” Those moans would draw out into a high pitched wail. One that caused your legs to tremble and nearly retract around his head. But alas, that just wasn’t possible. With one fell swoop and only a single hand, he’d pin your thighs back and continue devouring your cunt. As his opposite one was preoccupied with stroking his own shaft. It was something about your scent, flavor and your sex that got him all aroused. Nonetheless, Armin would resume his feast..flicking gently on your clit, sucking your plump lips and even shoving a digit into your tight hole. Only coming up for air to check in on you..

“Something on your mind, pretty girl? Talk to me..”

“N—need you…need you in me so bad…oh fuck..”

although the sentence was a bit incoherent, your desires were heard loud and clear. Although Armin loved the idea of relentlessly teasing you, he also wasn’t much in the way of restricting you from your happiness either. If that was what you wanted, he was elated to fulfill the request. In what seemed to almost be a slight of hand movement, he’d maneuver and rise from where he was laying and would scoop your legs up in the process. He’d position them straight in the air and pin them together. Eventually placing them over his shoulder. “You need me? You want it that bad, sweetheart?” Cooing and questioning with a rhetorical tone. Meanwhile, he was hovering above you, positioned on his knees whilst that cock head teased against your slit. He already knew the answer and as far as he was concerned, it was yours. But he needed to hear you say it. Not just for the consensual aspect, but because it was what he’d been waiting for all along. Hearing you beg, plead and whimper for him….this entire time, he’d been so used to your independent nature, that there was rarely an instance where you relied on him. You were so far capable of handling your own, that he or no other man were truly necessary in your daily way of life. But right here…in this moment, in this bedroom and this space the two of you had curated together..

“Y-yes, please!..I need you. I can’t take it..”

he was your everything. Your one and only sole object of affection. With your gazes fixated on one another, you’d nod your head and coo to one another, whimpering until suddenly—

“Yeah?” “Mmmm…please!”

you’d feel that stiffened, aching cock glide between your warm, silky folds and remained nestled there whilst he gathered his footing. Normally, he’d take an opportunity to perhaps gloat or be cocky. Fucking you with a giant grin on his face, making your pleasure a second priority. But alas, he’d never be so arrogant or foolish right now..because only moments later, his head had rolled back on his shoulders and as he remained nestled within you, he’d release a heavy gasp. He couldn’t maintain his eye contact when you felt this good. Your pussy resembled that of a warm blanket or hug..inviting him in and never wanting to pull away. However, he’d refrain from such lewd obscenities and fill your head with more loving compliments instead. As you’d lie there, awaiting his next move, you’d feel a hand planted into the center of your tummy and his hips beginning to buck forward..gently pounding into you.

“Oh God…yes..I love the way you feel, baby. You’re so warm.. ‘s so good..”

meanwhile, all he could do was howl it to the air because he knew that if he even took so much as even a glance in your direction, his load would be buried three inches into your womb right now. He was adamant of taking his time because all of his undivided and full attention; along with every second he could spare…belonged to you. He was all yours, hopelessly to a fault. He had released fear..anxiety or the shame that came with being madly in love.

“Ahhh…Armin..right there..please don’t stop..”

“I know, baby. I know…I can feel you squeezing me, that’s your spot, isn’t it?”

it was a given..not only had your body become riddled with ecstasy but he could tell by the way you pawed at his abs that he’d reached that core. Smacking sounds had arisen from the creamy mess he’d made of your lower half. Sucking his teeth, Armin finally garnered the strength to peer down at you and once he did, he nearly lost all control and restraint. His strokes would become a little faster and stretch your tight little cunt in the process. Your legs, that once made home on his shoulders, were now pinned back nearly behind your head. A position he was certain you had no issue maintaining. Even so, it didn’t stop your from crying out to him..heaving and whimpering. He was worried that perhaps, he hadn’t regulated his own strength. But rather than an expression of pain, you were smiling!..grinning from ear to ear with tears rolling down your face. It was a sign that you were in complete climatic bliss.

“Y-yes..you're in my spot, baby. And it feels so fucking good…nobody can make me feel like this..” eventually reaching down to stroke your sensitive bud to aid in the pleasure. That gave him all the confirmation he needed to persist, even when he felt he’d reach his breaking point sooner rather than later. Breaking into a smile of his own, Armin would resume his deep thrusts, this time with a bit more speed and rhythm. His hips would roll fluidly as he pushed in and out; dragging more of your juices and secretions along with him. He felt as if he could conquer the world when you said things like that. “That’s right, sweetheart..I know it’s a lot but I know you’re the only one who can handle it..who can take this dick like it’s nothing.”

those words cause you to twitch and grip him even tighter. In that moment, he nearly faltered but it was also in that instance that the two of you established full blown eye contact and mere seconds later, your lips had met in a passionate crash. Only after you exchanged doting words.

“..I love you. I love you so much, (y/n)..”

“I love you too, baby! Oh my gosh, please don’t stop.”

the bed had begun to jolt against the wall whilst his tattooed knuckles gripped the headboard. Eventually, he’d collapse fully into your grasp, relinquishing this idea of full control and allowing himself to be a part of the moment. No need to establish dominance or submission..who was the better lover or even what past partners had done. But instead, embracing each other and becoming one. One body, one soul and one heart. You’d wrap your arms and legs around his frame as he continued feeding you those strokes..his face buried into the crook of your neck and your hands clawing his inked up back.. You’d coo into his ear, listening to his whimpers and inform him that it was okay for him to let go. That he didn’t have to hold back so that he could appear as this strong guy with tons of stamina. You took it as a compliment that he could go for that long, honestly..it was a far cry from his past hookups, that was for certain!..but so much more was at stake here than merely who reached their orgasm first. It was about sharing in ecstasy and concealing your love with a special moment.

“You wanna come, angel? You can if you’re ready, no need to hold back..”

“Come with me, please..same time, okay?”

declaring so confidently as you heaved into one another’s ears. He’d agree and mere seconds later, that speed and pace had reached maximum heights and it felt as if he were hammering into you. “F-fuck!..” “Shit!..I’m coming, sweetheart!..coming for y—“ it was in that exact moment, that it felt as if the world was shattering for the both of you. That something inside of your bodies had essentially broken and neither of you could hold back. Both of your eyes shoot wide open before they shut and you’d embrace each other for comfort. Your juices had splattered all over his cock and his warm seed had completely coated the inside of your womb.. neither of you could even function at this point. Just reduced to mindless babble and tears. He’d finally rise from your neck and greet you with disheveled hair, a beet red face and a toothy grin. Along with those fallen tears.

“C’mere..I need a kiss..”

“Of course..”

your soft features and brown eyes met his and the two of you collided with one last declaration of adornment. Lips and tongues meeting in a fit of desperation. Desperation to never be apart again. For as long as you were both of this world, you’d spend every waking moment wanting to be together. And there wasn’t a single thing that could break that.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me..I just want us to be like this forever. I love you..” and you’d cling to every single word. Knowing that they rang true, now more than ever. Stroking his head as he lies on your chest. There were times that Armin figured that he’d never find his one and only..that he was destined to be a bachelor until he left this earth and he was adamant that one woman couldn’t possibly supplement for having his fill of multiple.

“And we can stay just like this…I’m not going anywhere.”

but it was nights like this..that reminded him that he was exactly where he needed to be!

[applesauce42069]

Your recent posts about anti Zionists resonate with me.

I have tried. I have really tried to have conversations with Jewish anti Zionists. I have read as much Jewish anti Zionist literature as I possibly can. I sympathize with being in the minority and wanting to be something more than Zionist and wanting to be heard.

But they fucking hate us. I'm not even talking about Zionists atp. They hate Jews.

To be a Jewish anti Zionist is to weaponize your existence against your fellow Jews and allow yourself to be a tool used to harm the Jewish community. I have tried to find Jewish anti Zionists who have some semblance of care for Jews but in some ironic way, they have long become a monolith with the same antisemitic beliefs. Every time I pick up a Jewish anti Zionist book, there has to be some mention of "colonization"/denial of Israel being our homeland/Zionism is racism/gross misunderstanding of what Zionism is/the list goes on. They have long thrown Israeli/Zionist Jews under the bus in attempt to redeem themselves for having their disgusting "Jewish privilege" (they genuinely believe we all control the worldejdhdhd and we need to apologize for it???). To a Jewish anti Zionist is to live in delusion where history is quite simple, such as evil Zionists from evil Europe who are Islamophobic and evil.

Look at the response from this Jewish anti Zionist group from the Netherlands: https://www.instagram.com/p/DCHr9XMoYK7/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

I'm pretty sure other Jewish anti Zionist groups all over the world had a similar response. We mock JVP but JVP's thinking is quite similar to what Jewish anti Zionists generally think/believe.

Look at Alternative Jewish Voices: https://ajv.org.nz/

Taken from the website: We are pro-Jewish and anti-Zionist. We agree that Israel as it exists today is an apartheid state, systemically oppressing indigenous Palestinians.  It doesn’t represent our Judaism. (IS THIS NOT GENUINELY DELUSIONAL AND AHISTORICAL?)

We are antiracist, and we distinguish between anti-Semitism and valid protest against Israel’s occupation of Palestine.  Some of us protest by joining organisations that boycott Israel. (support of BDS is insane and antisemitic. What is their definition of antisemitism? when white people wave neo nazi flags and that's it?)

Also if I had a penny for every time a Jewish anti Zionist group quoted Al Jazeera I'd be rich for sure.

Sorry for this long rant. I just feel so much anger. They think we hate them because we hate Palestinians and we hate opposition because we are evil cult but if you're going to hate us, can they at least have the correct info?

I understand how you feel. Especially since that Netherlands group has ALREADY BEEN USED by non-Jewish antizionists to try and justify mob violence against jews to me.

once an antizionist jew accused my jewish israeli friend of caring about Jewish lives more than Palestinian lives. but they've got it all wrong. WE care about Jewish lives and Palestinian lives the same. THEY care about Palestinian lives more and they are willing to throw their people under the bus for moral superiority

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 22/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on Ao3 (current chapter)

Read on AO3 (from beginning)

“Would witch blood heal you faster?”

Tommy didn’t think he had heard correctly, at first…or perhaps had just imagined that Evan had spoken at all. That was far, far more logical, far more possible than the idea that Evan would willingly offer to let Tommy drink from him. He went still, even the burning, pulsing pain that radiated through his torso as his body struggled to heal the grievous wound, fading to a dull, background throb on the edge of his consciousness.

Evan stared at him unblinkingly, his eyes as blue as a sunlit sky, nothing but calm curiosity in them. He hadn’t misheard. He wasn’t imagining it.

“Evan,�� he breathed out. His teeth ached at the thought of tasting his witch’s blood again, his whole body throbbing with want at the memory of the power, the warmth, the sheer life that had poured into him with every mouthful. To have that again; to have it willingly. To take Evan in his arms again, to have his witch offering himself—the bolt of sheer longing that shot through him nearly sent him to his knees right there in the motel room. But…

“No. I’m not going to ask you to do that.” Evan didn’t want it. He couldn’t possibly want to let Tommy drink from him. He was being pragmatic, strategic. He wasn’t wrong that allowing Tommy to drink from him would heal Tommy faster. Another infusion of witch blood would make them both safer. It was a smart move.

But God he didn’t think he could bear it if his witch offered himself to him and didn’t want it.

Didn’t want him.

Not the way he wanted Evan.

And oh, he did. He wanted Evan so, so badly. It had been building practically from the moment he laid eyes on his witch, and the full truth of it washed over him now, with Evan’s offer hanging in the air between them. He wanted this brave, incredible man. He wanted his witch’s loyalty and his selflessness, and his quick wit and intelligence. He wanted to take his witch to his bed, to map out every inch of his body until he knew it as well as he knew his own; knew what made Evan moan, and writhe, and sigh. He wanted his witch’s body.

He wanted his witch’s heart.

He wanted to know that this strange connection that had been surging between them was reciprocated, wanted to know that Evan felt the same desperate urge to protect and possess and just be near him. He wanted it all.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Evan said quietly. He swallowed, and Tommy’s eyes were drawn helplessly to the motion of his throat. He could detect no trace of hesitance in Evan’s voice, no fear in his heartbeat or his scent. God, his scent.

It would hurt. It would hurt so much to have this, have him and know it wouldn’t last. Wouldn’t be offered again. It might just kill him to have Evan like this and know that to his witch, it was just an alliance…when to him, Evan was becoming everything. But he wanted him so, so badly.

Evan stood, and whatever strength Tommy had to resist crumbled like a sandcastle under an ocean wave. Despite the terrible injury his body was still struggling to heal, a shudder of desire wracked through him, and he scented the air, inhaling the delicious, maddening smell of his witch. He reached for Evan, only to curl his hand into a fist and force it back down. He had to know Evan was consenting to this—had to know his witch was certain.

“Are you sure?” he gasped out, his voice low and snarling, a growl reverberating in his chest that he couldn’t conceal. For a moment, he thought he saw Evan shiver at the noise, his eyes darkening slightly…but that couldn’t be right. It had to be a trick of the light.

“You can do it without hurting me, right?” Evan asked, as if the idea of harming him wasn’t impossible to Tommy now. As if Tommy could ever do anything to hurt his beautiful, beautiful witch. He reached for Evan again, desperate to touch him, to hold him…but at the last moment he remembered the gore that encrusted his hands and arms.

“I’d never hurt you,” he swore, and knew it for the absolute truth.

“Then let me help you,” Evan said.

Tommy felt his eyes shift, the scarlet glow of the hunter he was shining through in anticipation. His fangs dropped in his mouth and he called upon every bit of control he had to rein it back in. Evan’s heart did not so much as skip a beat in fear, and somehow that was his undoing. He looked down at his hands and then held them out to his witch, silently begging. He needed to touch. “I—can you?” he asked, nearly groaning aloud when Evan needed no further explanation.

His witch murmurs the same spell he’d done in the car, and the same rush of warm wind kicks up between them, swirling around him and whisking his skin clean of dried blood and debris. The scent of Evan grows richer, closer, more prominent, carried by the manifestation of his magic, and Tommy thinks he could quite happily spend the rest of eternity wrapped in that delicious scent. Before it had even died down, he was reaching for his witch, finally wrapping his hand around the warm skin of Evan’s wrist, pulling his witch closer.

Evan went came willingly, closing the distance between them until Tommy could feel the heat radiating off of his witch’s body. He was close enough that Tommy could let go of his wrist, could wrap his arms around his trim waist and pull him close, bury his face in the soft skin of Evan’s belly and just breathe him in. He wondered if Evan would let him.

“How do you want to do this?” Evan asked. “Um, are you gonna—” He raised his hand and gestured vaguely towards his own neck.

Instantly, Tommy shook his head. “No. No, not there,” he said. No, that would be…too much. He had to have some kind of self-preservation. He could not imagine drawing Evan into his arms again, sinking his fangs into his witch’s vulnerable throat, and ever being okay with not having that again. It would ruin him. He knew it would ruin him. He squeezed Evan’s wrist gently, brushing his thumb over the throbbing beat of his pulse and looking up at his witch questioningly.

Evan nodded, and Tommy felt his fangs fully descend; knew his irises were gleaming a solid ruby-red. “Lie down,” he said, barely able to keep his voice steady. If his heart could still beat it would be pounding out of his ribs by now. “I won’t take much, I promise. But just in case.”

He was only going to drink enough to accelerate his healing. No more than Evan would lose if he went to donate blood. Not enough to hurt him, never enough to hurt him—but he wanted his witch to be comfortable. He levered himself to his feet and watched as Evan pulled the comforter that he’d been unable to avoid dripping blood on off the bed. His witch kicked off his shoes and crawled up onto the bed, stretching out and looking up at him with calm, steady eyes.

“God Evan,” he whispered under his breath. “Thank you.” Inadequate words for the gift his witch was giving him—not just the power of his blood, but the trust of letting him do this. Gingerly, he sat down on the mattress next to Evan’s hip, wishing with all his heart that he had the right to stretch out beside his witch, to draw him into his arms and hold him close. “I—it won’t feel like it did at Gerrard’s party without the thrall,” he warned, not wanting to frighten Evan, but also unwilling to leave him unprepared. He would be as gentle as he possibly could…but it wouldn’t be painless. He hesitated briefly, and then offered, “I could put you back under.”

He didn’t want to. Selfishly, he didn’t want to experience this knowing that Evan was lost in the false haze of his thrall. If this was the only time Evan gave himself over to Tommy willingly, he wanted it to be real. Still, he also hated the thought of causing his witch any pain. He was relieved, though, when Evan quickly shook his head.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Just take what you need.” He held up his hand for Tommy to take.

Everything, Tommy thought desperately, taking Evan’s hand in his with a sense of wondering disbelief. Will you let me have everything?

“I can stop myself,” he promise. “If it starts to hurt too much, or you start to feel dizzy or sick, just tell me.”

Evan was silent, still staring up at him with eyes that Tommy thought he might happily drown in if only his witch would let him. “I trust you, Tommy,” he said, and Tommy thought it might be the first time Evan had said his name deliberately. It sounded even sweeter than the other times, sweeter than he thought it could.

He closed his eyes, drawing Evan’s hand closer to his mouth. He could not resist dragging his nose against the soft, vulnerable skin of his witch’s wrist, inhaling deeply, filling his long-still lungs with the heady, tempting scent of his witch. “Evan,” he whispered, every bit as fervently as he had ever recited and prayer or litany of saints.

He bit down.

*

He was sitting next to his witch in a cheap motel room, the glorious, rich taste of Evan’s blood exploding on his tongue, sliding down his throat, filling him with heat and warmth and life like he hadn’t known since the days when he could walk under the sun.

He was standing in the middle of a moonlit, snowy field, surrounded by an arcane symbol sketched out in river rocks, watching with quiet despair as a woman knelt in the snow, a squirming, crying bundle of blankets on the ground in front of her.

He was thrashing in his father’s arms as his mother chanted, the discordant, harsh sound of the words scraping over his ears, their wrongness filling the surrounding air like smoke.

“Dad! Daddy stop! Stop! Evan’s scared!” he cried, but his father’s arms just tightened around him, holding him close, holding him still.

“It’s all right, Danny,” Dad muttered. “It’s all going to be all right.”

Mom’s spell reached its crest, and she raised the knife again—not the small, silver blade she used in rituals sometimes, this was longer. Sharper. She’d cut his baby brother, he realized, that was Evan’s blood on the ground, black under the moonlight.

His witch’s blood was sweeter than nectar on his tongue, the best thing he’d ever tasted, liquid fire pouring through him and he could feel his tissue start to knit together faster, muscle and bone and skin repairing itself.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t cry out, couldn’t rush forward and knock the knife from the woman’s hand. He never could. He watched with tired eyes as the woman—his mother? No…no, not his mother. His witch’s. Evan’s mother. Daniel’s mother.

Who was Daniel?

“Daddy,” he whimpered, his brother’s cries growing louder and louder. “Daddy, she’s hurting him.”

“It’s all right, Danny. Soon everything will be okay,” Dad whispered. All around them, the river rocks started to glow—but not the comforting white light of witch magic that he was used to. There was something sickly about it…like gray, half-melted slush instead of crisp white snow. Dirty. The magic felt dirty and tears rose in his eyes, spilled down his cheeks.

“Bring him here,” his mother ordered, and her voice sounded so strange. Colder than he’d ever heard it. Tighter. There was something hard and harsh and awful in his mother’s voice, something that scared him. He wanted Maddie. Something was wrong with their parents; they were hurting Evan! Where was Maddie? He needed his sister.

Dad carried him forward, quickly kneeling down in the same section of the river rocks that Mom and Evan were in. He tried to scramble back into his father’s lap when Dad set him down on the snow, but his father pushed him away.

“Be a good boy and hold your brother, Danny,” Mom said, gathering Evan up and holding him out, the way she did when he asked to sit on the couch and feed Evan his bottle.

He was crying now, big gulping sobs that made it hard to breathe, made his head hurt. Evan was screaming and some part of him wanted to believe he was dreaming. He wanted to open his eyes and find out he was dreaming—his mother hadn’t hurt his baby brother and made him scream like that; the air wasn’t filled with magic that burned and hurt when it brushed his senses; this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Mom was still holding Evan out to him, though, and he let her put his baby brother in his arms, let her settle Evan in his lap like they did when they sat on the couch together. He couldn’t shove Evan away. Never. Mom and Dad scrambled up as soon as he was holding Evan, stumbling out of the lines of river rock.

“Mama?” he whimpered. “Daddy, I’m scared!” Evan was still screaming, and he tried to bounce his brother like Maddie did, tried to rock him and make him feel better, but his shoulders were still shaking with his own sobs. Eventually, he just curled over his baby brother, holding him as close as he could while the magic swirled around them.

He watched the little boy clutch the baby close, watched as their parents collapsed into each other’s arms, the woman staring at her children with a wild, almost crazed light in her eyes as the dingy, grayish magic danced around them in a cloud. His heart clenched in his chest, knowing what was coming and knowing just as well that he couldn’t stop it. This had already happened.

He drank, the power of his witch’s blood surging through him, tangling around him, drawing them closer and closer and closer. He could feel Evan, could feel the essence of his witch, could feel him down to what was left of his soul after so long. There was no part of Evan that was not laid bare to him, no part of him that was not laid bare to Evan. He had no idea where he ended and his witch began and he could feel the magic between them, drawing them together, holding them together.

He held his brother tighter as the strange, wrong magic swept over and through him…over and through Evan. Something pulled at them, circled around them, and he could feel it dragging at his magic, dragging at Evan’s magic, tying the two together in a way that didn’t feel good. It was like they were sitting in the middle of a whirlpool, a current racing between them. He could feel it, could feel Evan’s magic like he’d never been able to before.

It was pulling Evan’s magic toward him.

The thought skipped through his head as his baby brother screamed. Oh.

Oh.

He didn’t have a familiar, yet. He hadn’t had anything but the most basic training on how to control his magic. But he was a Buckley witch. One of the strongest coven lines in the country—he was not trained in magic, yet, but he understood it.

They were trying to take his brother’s magic and give it to him.

The understanding slammed into him, and he held his brother tighter.

The memory played out in front of him, and he wished to God he could turn away from the pain of it.

The connection surged between him and his witch, and he never wanted it to fade, never wanted to lose it.

His parents were trying to give him his brother’s magic, and he wanted to scream. It wasn’t right…this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Evan’s crying started to get quieter, weaker, and he knew in his heart that the spell was hurting Evan. Was hurting his baby brother. The sucking, dragging pull on his brother’s magic would leave him empty and hurting and weak. It would make him stronger, would give his coven’s healing spells and rituals more to hold onto, more to work with. It might save his life.

But it would kill his brother.

He knew it, even if he didn’t know how he knew. Whatever his parents were doing, it was going to kill his baby brother. He sat up from his hunched-over position, tried to get his knees under him so he could crawl out of the lines of stone, tried to drag himself and his brother free…but the spell held him fast. He couldn’t move.

“Don’t be scared, baby. It’s almost over!” Mom called out, and she sounded like she was crying too. She sounded scared, sounded like she wanted to scream. He didn’t understand. Why were they doing this? How could they do this? Evan was just a baby! He was his baby brother and he and Maddie loved him. They loved him so, so much. They’d been so excited when Mom and Dad told them they were having another baby…how could his parents do this?

The spell swept around them. Around and around and around, yanking at Evan’s magic, pulling at Evan’s magic, draining it into him. Evan wasn’t squirming anymore, wasn’t screaming or crying. Dying. His brother was dying.

No. No, he was the one who was dying. Mom and Dad tried to pretend it wasn’t true. Maddie tried to pretend. But he knew. He was dying, and nothing could change that. Nothing was supposed to change that. He looked down at his brother’s sweet face. It was supposed to be him, not Evan. It wasn’t fair of their parents to make it be Evan. It wasn’t fair.

He was too young for formal training in magic; too young for a familiar or a spellbook or lessons. But he understood magic. He understood how it worked. Every spell was built on intention. To make magic do what you wanted it to, you had to want it.

He was Evan’s big brother. It was his job to love him, and protect him, and look out for him. The same way Maddie loved, and protected, and looked out for him. He was Evan’s brother.

And he wanted his brother to live.

He took a deep breath and held his brother closer to his chest. “I love you, Ev,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.” He held that thought, concentrating as hard as he could on how much he loved his baby brother, how much he did not want this to be happening. He bit his lip, and wished that he had been able to tell Maddie how much he loved her, too.

Then, he faced the dragging, sucking pull of the spell that was stealing his brother’s magic to give to him…and refused the intention.

The whirlpool slowed, as though the spell didn’t quite understand what he was doing. The flow of his brother’s magic into him stuttered, and he pushed harder. I don’t want it, he thought, and tried to put all of his power, all of his magic behind it. I don’t want it. I refuse it. Give it back to him. Give it back…give it back…give it back!

The spell seemed to creak and crack around them, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw his parents suddenly straighten up. It didn’t matter. He could feel the spell trembling, shaking, the power that his parents had poured into it, the power his brother’s blood had given it needing somewhere to go. The spell had to complete. That was okay—he’d made his choice. And he wasn’t going to let his little brother get hurt for him. He was going to protect Evan, no matter what.

He felt it when the spell latched onto him and started reversing itself, knew that it was going to hurt. Knew that this was probably the last thing he’d ever do. That was okay, too. He was tired of being in pain all the time…maybe whatever was coming after wouldn’t hurt. He felt the spell building again, felt it tear into him with sharp, sharp claws and start dragging his magic out of his body, funneling it into his brother’s.

He bent over Evan again and pressed a soft kiss to his baby brother’s cheek. “It’s okay, Ev,” he whispered, his voice already fading and weak. “I’ll keep you safe.”

*

Tommy gasped, his eyes flying open to find Evan staring at him in shock, his mouth hanging slightly open. Slowly, as gently as possible, he withdrew his fangs from his witch’s wrist, barely resisting the urge to press his lips against the wounds, as if he could soothe them like a child’s injury.

He held onto Evan’s hand, meeting his witch’s eyes in confusion as the images of the snowy field played over and over in his mind. But how? Sure, it wasn’t unusual to experience flashes of thoughts or memories when drinking from a thralled victim—and he’d assumed the intensity of the vision he’d first experienced at Gerrard’s party had been somehow tied to Evan’s magic. But Evan had not been under his thrall just now!

The power of Evan’s blood rushed through him, the pain of his wound diminishing to nothing as the flesh of his torso finished knitting itself together. But Tommy’s attention wasn’t on the relief of the pain disappearing, or the incredible strength that filled his limbs and tingled in his blood.

He could only stare at his witch. He felt as though he had just been handed the answers to a hundred questions that had been plaguing him from the moment he rescued Evan from the party….and he didn’t understand a damn one of them.

“Evan,” he said, and his hand tightened on his witch’s involuntarily at the quiet devastation filling those gentle blue eyes. “What was that?”

[incomingalbatross]

Thoughts on Ghost Days by Jim Butcher (and possibly the earlier books, if they spill over into this post)

All of this is, as Harry observes, absolutely typical of his existence. Of course he can't just die, he gets sent back as a special unknown type of ghost to solve his own murder. And of course he shoulders like three different new obligations, makes a new friend, and adopts a criminal teenager within his first 24 hours of unlife.

Kinda love how quickly and understatedly he's incorporated the very latest familial revelation into his narration. He says something like "I'd lost the scar on my arm that I got while skinning a fish on my grandfather's farm" and it's so casual it almost slips by.

(Side note: I need to see his grandfather and his brother find out about each other now. I realize there has been no opportunity and these aren't exactly Harry's secrets to tell anyway, but please.)

Mort going "all cats can see ghosts, they just don't usually care" checked out completely, of course, but it was also perfect setup for Mister's "HELLO YOU'RE BACK MY HUMAN HI." Which. Oof.

Ways you can tell it's really Harry Dresden: 1) Mister hits him in the invisible shins, 2) he opens the conversation with a Star Wars quote, 3) he's talking a teenager into turning his life around.

Love all the Bob content in this one. Harry got to see how the other half lived and everything. (Though his amorality credentials are slightly tarnished by that heroic last stand of his. Which he'd better have survived.)

Everyone here seems like they're an inch from cracking, and I'm concerned for all of them, but they're DOING THEIR BEST. (Butters isn't an inch from cracking. He seems to be doing great, I'm very proud of him.)

Very glad and also a little amused that the Super Secret Safe Witness Protection Home for Maggie is... the Carpenters. I mean it absolutely should be, but it's also funny.

Of course Mouse exists equally in the physical and spirit world. I'd be more surprised if he didn't.

I DID have several moments where I went what about Thomas. why isn't your narration even mentioning Thomas, but the payoff of "I couldn't stand to face even the thought of what I'd done to him" made it make sense.

More general/Thematic thoughts:

Uriel and/or the narrative really said "You're going to take a good, hard look at the unintended consequences of your actions. And you're going to do it disembodied so you can process a little better."

There was something that really struck me at some points in the Lasciel period, and it's back again now: I love that when Harry crosses lines, not only is he capable of seeing it, but the reaction of the people around him is, "yeah you sure did cross a line! you did wrong. so stop doing it and get better, because you can. this isn't a slippery slope unless you decide it is."

He has! Free will! Contrition is always meaningful! Change is always possible! Harry is never allowed to write himself off. He is always told that he's capable of picking himself up and doing better - because he is. He's alive and human and that means he has as much hope as he chooses to hold onto.

That said, I also really appreciated the weight his choices in the last book are given here. It's so easy to just go along with "it was for Maggie, it was his JOB" (and it was his job), but this book made Harry and us stop and linger on both the lines he crossed and the unintended harm he caused.

(Though he is taking too much weight on himself. Martin maneuvered a lot of this into play, not to mention the ACTUAL Red Court. And there is something to be said for the SG-1 approach of "stop worrying about ramifications and just kill the ancient evil first.")

(Oh, now I remember! I was also thinking of Hunger Games re: this. Katniss and Peeta's defiance of evil was personally motivated and sparked a lot of unintended harm to others - but it was also the only spark that could have destroyed the machinery of evil. Not quite the same but made me think of it.)

ANYWAY. Speaking of crossed lines and harm caused: I was NOT prepared for the murder reveal.

It DOES explain so much about this whole book, especially in combination with the (not as shocking :P) reveal that he's only mostly dead. He NEEDED to know this. He needed to know and understand all the choices he made, and their results - and the lie that influenced him - if he was going to be allowed back to his body.

First, he needed to know there was no outside killer to worry about. He also needed to know that HE did this. All of it. Part of accepting culpability and facing his choices meant facing that there was a third murder on his account - because that is how he frames it - what he did to Molly and what he did to himself and everyone who loved him.

He also, most crucially, needed his free will reasserted, both by the manipulation being revealed to him and by Uriel balancing the scales.

Because a Harry Dresden who had given up on himself as the Winter Knight is a nightmare the world's not ready for.

Instead he's ready to give Mab new problems. :) She gets what she paid for.

Closing thought: If, when he finally gets back to the world of the living, he does not make at least one "mostly dead" and/or "really most sincerely dead" joke, I will be very disappointed in him.

[chancedarling]

As Darcy natters, chatters and chirps next to him, Chance just lays there staring at the almost cloudless sky turning over all the potential and possibility inherent in Darcy's ability. Astounding... To be able to dematerialise in one shadow and step right out of another. He's trying to calculate the distance - she fell a fair way, but from mid tower to the ground - had to be a good eighty to a hundred foot? He'd have to come back with some more accurate measuring tools to try to gauge.

-- What was her range? -- How deep or dark did the shade need to be for her to make use of it? -- Was it specifically absence of light (more potential and therefor opportunity at night), or was it a shaded area in daylight or a combination of both. -- Could she only transport herself? Could she pull someone else through? Could she carry larger objects?

A hum of infinite possibilities reeling through his mind. Now all he has to do is figure out how he can use it... Her... To his advantage.

As she holds up her palms, he turns his head to look. A wince in sympathy at the rust covered bitten skin. Blood mingling with the deep brown and red flakes of the railing. It mush have been like holding onto broken glass. Perhaps he's even slightly more impressed that she'd dangled for so long. And at that - he does have to admit - this little revelation makes him rather glad that she didn't become the human equivalent of a bug on a windshield.

"I'll see if I can snag some antiseptic from the medicenter. Dont want that getting infected. Tetanus and... Stuff... I dunno - but better safe than sorry, huh?"

Better safe than sorry. That's a laugh. Safe would have been staying away from this damn tower. Safe would have been Chance walking away when she'd first blipped up there. Safe would have been heeding the clear warnings that were sprayed on the walls...

S a f e was fucking boring. This was so much more fun. And rewarding.

"It was probably a stupid idea."

Chance mumbles softly. It wasn't stupid. It was a fucking genius idea. And lets be honest, really the only thing that had come to mind at the time.

"I'm just glad you're safe."

Chance the humble. But he's entirely milking the moment.

She rattles on a little more about the tower and whatever mysteries or secrets may lay within. Chance is entirely in agreement. He HAS to know what's inside. And if he can use Darcy as a buffer between himself and any overt harm, then he'll encourage her curiosity.

As she hugs him though (...weird. Odd... Physical contact had been so absent here, that he'd hardly noticed he'd missed it until now)... Chance just pats her arm. Turns his head again and headbutts her softly in return. If he allows himself to enjoy the closeness and her presence and tactile offering, he'd never tell...But maybe he does. More than he'd like to admit to even himself.

Lingering there for the span of a few breaths, it's almost a wrench to move. But he does eventually sit up. Carefully taking her hands in his and examining them more closely.

"C'mon then you little astronaut. No more boldy going for now. We'll figure this place out another time. Maybe with more people. And a big arse ladder - just in case."

Standing, he jerks his head in the direction of the little commune.

"Secrets are secrets for a reason, Darcy."

He offers a quick wink and a grin.

"And that reason is for us to find them out."

Chance came to stand over her, face concerned and shocked and Darcy knew that she probably looked like somebody insane lying on the ground laughing, but she just couldn't help it, her entire body needed to release the adrenaline she accumulated in the last-- what was it? Maybe two minutes? Three? Couldn't have been longer than five, even though it felt like five whole lifetimes while she was holding onto the ledge at the top of the tower.

"Yeah, it was me. I just-- While falling I felt the same tug. Something changed and I just-- I followed it and then I was here." It was sheer luck and she was painfully aware of it, but still, it didn't truly sink in, or not yet anyway.

"But I think I'm okay. My palms--" Darcy held up her hands, looking at her palms - several of her nails broke off, both of her palms were full of scrapes and scratches and both of her hands felt extremely fatigued and unusable at the moment, but it felt like a small price to pay for what actually happened.

"Well, it'll heal," she said, showing her palm to him too. "I survived worse." She really did.

Chance lied down next to her and she turned her head towards him as he explained what he was doing right before her fingers gave up, the reality of what actually happened sinking in. "You-- It was you. You asked me if I did it, but really, I couldn't have done anything without you. The birds, they were what provided the shade that I needed," she breathed, her voice full of awe as she did.

She never would have thought of something like this. She wouldn't have even known how to actually help if their roles were reversed, really.

A wave of gratefulness washed over her as he suggested no more exploration for today, and another set of laughter bubbled out of her, one that was much more genuine, much more relieved and true. "Yeah, I can get behind being done for the day."

Darcy couldn't help but add, though, "But what I found up there-- Chance, somehow we have to find a way to get inside. Sure, not the way I tried, but what happened just proves that something important is in there. That it could be the key to understanding so many things in here."

A pause, and then she moved and as they lied there, she reached over and hugged Chance - a little awkward, little weird positioning due to both of them being on the ground, but Darcy didn't care. "Thank you. Thank you so much for the help, I wouldn't be here without you and the birds. I am so so grateful, truly. I owe you one."

[oediex]

some people at the philosophical café were also espousing some serious moral relativism, which I have a lot of thoughts about and I don't know if I'll be able to put them all into words, so please take all of this with a grain of salt. I'm just thinking here.

Basically, the question was about whether everyone has equal dignity, and that word (dignity) in Dutch ("waardigheid") also has the word for "value" in it ("waarde"). This caused a lot of confusion, with some people claiming that there was no such thing as "absolute value" because not everyone has the same principles (one definition of "value" and not an incorrect statement, but not the question at hand); while others had the opinion that not everyone had equal value, because some people in society are treated worse than others (another understanding of value, but again not, I think, what the question is about); and then there were a few people, including me, saying that yes, everyone has equal value in the way the question was phrased, namely that everyone has equal dignity as a human being, that's what human rights are all about. Yes, that equal dignity is obviously not recognised in society in the way that we treat others, but that doesn't mean that we don't have it. It's always there. Like, you're born and you have it. Even when you are mistreated, you have it and that is one of the reasons why that mistreatment is exactly that: mistreatment. It's why someone killing you is murder, and not just destruction. And everyone's value, in that sense of the word, everyone's dignity is equal. No one is more important than anyone else, morally, even if factually and practically quite the opposite is the case, and even when we have to make difficult choices (like who gets treated medically for example, if there are limited resources). It's what makes difficult and impossible choices so difficult and impossible! If some people had more value/dignity than others, then having to choose who dies and who lives wouldn't be so hard!

The concept of human dignity is centuries-old and can be found in many religions and philosophies, and is a central notion in the declaration of human rights. It is a contentious notion, primarily in that it is extremely difficult to define (it is not defined in the declaration of human rights!!!!) and very difficult to ground. Yet it is a vital human right, declared as such, and the one on which all the other ones are built. Equal moral dignity is at the core of so many social and political struggles. It is at the foundation of all fights for social justice and against oppression. It's what makes injustice injustice.

The question whether everyone had equal moral dignity was a weird one to me for a philosophical discussion in this place and time. Like, the answer seemed obviously yes to me. When it was chosen, from other (much more interesting in my view) questions that had been proposed, I figured - oh well, I guess we can discuss the definition of moral dignity, or what it ought to be grounded on, because as I said, these matters are far from decided.

But instead, there was an intense focus on the fact that in other times in history, and in other places in the world right now, people thought differently about certain issues like women's rights. In other cultures, they would say, women don't have as many rights as they do here. And I don't disagree. There are different values across different cultures and over history. But in my understanding of human dignity/value, even if certain people were not, by their group, valued for what they were (human), they still, in my eyes, had that moral dignity and value. I consider every human being, whether they are treated well or not, as an embodiment of moral dignity.

So when they came with some example or other that portrayed the subjugation of women at some point in history or in other places, I would ask, "Yes, but do you think that they have human dignity even if it wasn't recognised at the time/by that group." And the reply would be, "Well, what gives me the right to decide that?"

Because you are a rational and feeling being with the capacity to make moral judgements! Obviously you don't get to "decide" it but you can have an opinion on it? I tried using a tactic that I have seen a philosophy professor teaching ethics use. I proposed actions that seem obviously morally reprehensible, like raping a child, and ask, "don't you think we can call that morally bad no matter who does it or when?" And they would stand by their notion that no, they couldn't.

This is (extreme) moral relativism. The belief that there are no moral judgements we can make, absolutely, which is usually argued from the idea, as was the case in this discussion, that it's all culturally decided. That if there is a culture in which it is accepted to rape children, that we cannot look at that and say, "hey, that's not okay".

Now, I have to be clear here that cultural relativism is, in my eyes, an extremely important concept and tool. I think it is especially an important heuristic device to critically appraise one's own culture which is often experienced as absolute from within. I also want to say that as I am, obviously, not a moral relativist, that doesn't mean I believe to know exactly what are and are not absolute moral values. I do believe that human rights are extremely important and are an expression of the dignity that we all embody, but that doesn't mean that the ones we currently have "declared" are correct and all-encompassing. That is, in my eyes, precisely what philosophy, social justice, and critical theory is for. And we will probably never know, we just need to continue to critically think about it. We need to always accept that we might be wrong about them.

But that acceptance of our own possible critical failure is very different from the kind of moral relativism that people at this meeting were expressing. And I couldn't help but wonder - where is this coming from? They had just been talking about the importance of the feminist movement, and where did that movement come from if not from the believe that women had as much dignity as men?

And I don't know if I can answer that question, but I wonder if it's coming from some kind of extreme central liberalism and/or also a fear that not recognising such moral relativism would out them as thinking of their own cultures as morally superior and more progressive than others.

Let me explain.

I think the first one is the easiest to understand. The person in the centre positions themselves between those at the extreme ends and says, "both of you have a point" and refuses to express their own opinion, saying it all depends. They may move more one way than another depending on what would give them more power or is more beneficial to themselves, but generally they feign neutrality. I think a perfect example of this is centrist political parties. They think they are at the centre and that their hands are clean, but what they are actually doing is validating the extreme party on the end of the political spectrum that is causing great harm to many people in society. Applied to moral relativism - while the moral relativist is saying that it is all relative and they cannot make a moral judgement, a child is being raped, so to speak. Harm is being done, but the moral relativist can pretend they have no part in it, because it is not up to them to judge. They feign a position of neutrality while people are being oppressed, harmed, abused, etc. This kind of centrist position, whether politically or ethically, is, I think, the status quo in the western world. And it is causing great harm.

Now, the other explanation I think also has validity, but I don't know if I'll be able to explain it well. Basically, since this is a discussion that was being held by primarily white people in a western country, in Western Europe, I wonder if some of them were not comfortable claiming there are absolute moral values because they would interpret that as them somehow claiming that the values that are held in the western world are better than those elsewhere in the world. And this is a big no no, obviously. It's not very "in" among "enlightened" people such as would show up to a philosophical discussion. The reason I think this is, because when some people in the group would entertain the idea that there are certain absolute moral values, they would immediately mention notions such as "moral progress" and "us in the western world" being "further along" said progress, etc. Which is extremely problematic and uncritical to the point of dangerous and I don't think I have to explain that any further. Like I said earlier, my stance against moral relativism does not mean that I claim to know what such absolute moral values are or to be correct in the ones that I think are some of them or that I am uncritical, in the conversation surrounding human rights, of the ones that we seem to think they are. And it's why I am confident in my stance against moral relativism, because it doesn't fill me with some kind of confidence that I know what's what. It's what allows me to think critically of the way we go about things, including in our own, western, society. (And importantly, the way we go about things as a western society in relation to the rest of the world.) And so I wonder if the people espousing moral relativism were doing so in a way to protect themselves from that belief that "the western world is further along moral progress" than other places in the world. They say they are moral relativists so they can believe that that is not something that they believe.

Because I think a lot of people in the western world think that, including these people who pronounced themselves to be moral relativists (though they obviously didn't use that term*) but they try to hide that away. Like, I think people are aware that it's not "okay" to say that the way we do things here is "better" than how it is done outside of the western world, but I think they do believe that, but they feel they can't express that so they hide behind moral relativism.

(* I am using these terms because I think they apply generally to the kind of things they were saying. Mostly there was a lot of misunderstanding and misinterpretation. Like, I would say that not all ethical opinions were equal, and they would say, "well everyone has a right to their own opinion". Well, yeah, obviously, but that doesn't mean that all opinions are equal, or that some aren't more correct/ethically right than others. I had to ask very specific question to ascertain their stance on morality and ethical values and I explained above how I came to the conclusion that they were defending moral relativism.)

I don't know. Maybe I am wrong about all of this. Maybe I've said some things that are hugely wrong and problematic. I just feel like moral relativism is a kind of mask that people use to hide their belief that their own way is the correct way, but they're somehow aware that that's not okay because cultural relativism. (Obviously there are also many people who have no problem pronouncing western moral superiority.) But I just think that these people have taken the wrong lesson from cultural relativism. Cultural relativism does not necessarily lead to moral relativism. Cultural relativism is crucial in order to turn a sharp eye to one's own culture and its values, as it puts these in question, but it makes no claims in terms of the existence or non-existence of absolute moral values. It does not exclude the possibility that there are, indeed, absolute moral values.

I think moral dignity (which as a vegan I do not limit to only human beings btw! but that was definitely not a popular opinion lol) is one of these absolute moral values (and as I've said, I am open to the idea that I am very wrong about what I believe), and it is infinitely (philosophically) interesting to me because, as I said, it is difficult to define and ground. But that was in no way what the discussion at the philosophical café was about.

[art-is-kayos]

Sight of a Star - Blue-ish Star Ryōshū and Don Quixote

[codenamesazanka]

Shigaraki/Tenko wanting to destroy the false sense of peace All Might and Heroes created

.⬇️.

Shigaraki/Tenko wanting to destroy everything that lead to the existence of that house, which he conceptualizes as the embodiment of rejection and injustice in the world. Be a Hero for the Villains.

.⬇️.

AFO basically literally created that house

.⬇️.

Shigaraki/Tenko helps defeat AFO

.⬇️.

Deku telling him 'you already destroyed it' is... apparently Shigaraki/Tenko having finally gotten rid of the true cause of (his) rejection and injustice? main antagonist's big problem that represents an overarching major issue of the story/in-universe society... solved? (main antagonist's big problem that represents an overarching major issue of the story/in-universe society not actually being the problem he thought it was but now also solved?)

.⬇️.

No longer a need for there to be a Hero for the Villains, Shigaraki/Tenko dies.

.⬇️.

Heroes not to be blamed in the first place. also fuck everyone else and all other 'actual' outcasts I guess.

[stormbabylore]

Ooh, I have a few!

I've an AU in which Aeryn just stops after StB. She is shattered, exhausted, unable to cope, and truly convinced her closeness to the Scions causes them more harm than good. So she walks away. She returns to the Ruby Sea (the first and—at the time—only place she's experienced a true memory of her former life), where Tansui convinces her she is allowed to make selfish choices—she is allowed to stop. Even to stay. Despite never officially joining the Confederacy, Rasho makes an unspoken exception for Aeryn that no one seems to question, especially not considering how useful she makes herself. But emotionally, she is an utter wreck. She tosses her linkpearl into the ocean but frequently has nightmares about receiving desperate calls for help from the Scions. She is haunted by the voice of Hydaelyn and the fear that she has done the wrong thing, but she can't find the courage to abandon her perceived freedom from the bloody, ceaseless struggle she has left behind. She may not be happy, she reasons—she may never feel happy again. But everyone is safer without her, she is sure, and... And she is free.

(Two more "bad ends" behind the cut, but beware: they are EW spoiler-heavy!)

In canon, Aeryn begins losing herself to despair as the Scions, one by one, make their sacrifices in Ultima Thule. The breaking point for her is when Urianger chooses, willingly, to give up his life alongside Y'shtola. But at Urianger's parting behest, G'raha manages to pull Aeryn back from the brink and give her the hope she needs to press on; and when he, too, then goes, she is able to maintain her composure for the twins. That said... I could easily imagine G'raha failing to break through to her, resulting in a bad end. Aeryn would lose herself entirely, willingly releasing herself to Dyanmis to become a blasphemy. G'raha and the twins might try to get through to her, but I don't think she'd have the capacity to hear them any longer and would flee toward the Endsinger's song of despair. Meteion might take pity on her (given their past connection) and attempt to grant a swift end to her strife. But because Aeryn's inner power is so strong, it's more likely that they would fuse into something even stronger than the Endsinger. The sheer magnitude of all their suffering would trigger Aeryn's star magic, which she/they would unleash (as stars do) to bring an abrupt and explosive end to everything—even the Final Days.

Finally, my screenshots from this challenge really got me thinking about what Aeryn would be like as an Ascian. There are several ways she might have gotten to that point. Maybe post-HW, if she found herself in the position assumed in canon by Urianger... or perhaps in ShB, had she managed to manifest her past self's empathic abilities and forged a different connection with Emet-Selch. Truthfully, though, I'm kind of stuck on the idea of her offing Fandaniel (without truly killing the Ascian) and getting sort of possessed by Amon. It would be a split situation in which her soul (plus Azem power plus soul of a literal star) can't be fully controlled, even by the Ascian's methods, so she'd probably be a little bit bonkers. But I think her empathy for Hermes's situation would have made her uniquely suited to an odd kind of soul symbiosis with one of his shards, helping to subdue a little bit of Amon's madness, as well as his desperation to end. In that way it would be a bad end for the WoL, but perhaps not the worst end, story-wise. I could still see Ascian Aeryn working to avert the Final Days: reaching out to Meteion with both her own and Hermes's memories, pushing through the nest to find the Endsinger, even summoning Hades and Hythlodaeus… and possibly even some of the other Ascians? Defeating the Endsinger alongside both Ancients and Ascians would be pretty poetic, all things considered, and so delightfully circular thinking back on ARR. I'm not sure much about the fight itself would change, with Ascian Aeryn finding herself in the odd circumstance of being gifted strength beyond even her means by the prayers of the Scions who don't want to see their friend defeated, perhaps hoping they can somehow bring her back...

(Do I need another AU? No. But I'm a teensy bit obsessed with the notion of EW driving Aeryn to willingly play host to an Ascian... annnnnnd I'll probably end up writing some of this. Oops, I guess? Here we are.)

Bad endings? Bad endings anyone?

What if they got consumed by the light? What if they became a primal? Any and all bad endings!

I think mine most likely would've become a lightwarden because she didn't get to Emet-Selch fast enough. "Obsession" would be its name, due to the fact it would be obsessed with the idea of saving others and changing the world, probably leading to either the Scions killing her or to her consuming the First in Light.

.

[boyfridged]

i’ve been thinking a lot about what is so unique and appealing about 80s robin jay’s moral standing that got completely lost in plot later on. and i think a huge part of it is that in a genre so focused on crime-fighting, his motivations and approach don’t focus on the category of crime at all. in fact, he doesn’t seem to believe in any moral dogma; and it’s not motivated by nihilism, but rather his open-heartedness and relational ethical outlook.

we first meet (post-crisis) jay when he is stealing. when confronted about his actions by bruce he’s confident that he didn’t do anything wrong – he’s not apologetic, he doesn’t seem to think that he has morally failed on any account. later on, when confronted by batman again, jay says that he’s no “crook.” at this point, the reader might assume that jay has no concept of wrong-doing, or that stealing is just not one of the deeds that he considers wrong-doing. yet, later on we see jay so intent on stopping ma gunn and her students, refusing to be implicit in their actions. there are, of course, lots of reasons for which we can assume he was against stealing in this specific instance (an authority figure being involved, the target, the motivations, the school itself being an abusive environment etc.), but what we gather is that jay has an extremely strong sense of justice and is committed to moral duty. that's all typical for characters in superhero comics, isn't it? however, what remains distinctive is that this moral duty is not dictated by any dogma – he trusts his moral instincts. this attitude – his distrust toward power structures, confidence in his moral compass, and situational approach, is something that is maintained throughout his robin run. it is also evident in how he evaluates other people – we never see him condemning his parents, for example, and that includes willis, who was a petty criminal. i think from there arises the potential for a rift between bruce and jay that could be, have jay lived, far more utilised in batman comics than it was within his short robin run.

after all, while bruce’s approach is often called a ‘philosophy of love and care,’ he doesn’t ascribe to the ethics of care [eoc] (as defined in modern scholarship btw) in the same way that jay does. ethics of care ‘deny that morality consists in obedience to a universal law’ and focus on the ideals of caring for other people and non-institutionalized justice. bruce, while obviously caring, is still bound by his belief in the legal system and deontological norms. he is benevolent, but he is also ultimately morally committed to the idea of a legal system and thus frames criminals as failing to meet these moral (legal-adjacent) standards (even when he recognizes it is a result of their circumstances). in other words, he might think that a criminal is a good person despite leading a life of crime. meanwhile, for jay there is no despite; jay doesn't think that engaging in crime says anything about a person's moral personality at all. morality, for him, is more of an emotional practice, grounded in empathy and the question of what he can do for people ‘here and now.’ he doesn’t ascribe to maxims nor utilitarian calculations. for jay, in morality, there’s no place for impartiality that bruce believes in; moral decisions are embedded within a net of interpersonal relationships and social structures that cannot be generalised like the law or even a “moral code” does it. it’s all about responsiveness. 

to sum up, jay's moral compass is relative and passionate in a way that doesn't fit batman's philosophy. this is mostly because bruce wants to avoid the sort of arbitrariness that seems to guide eoc. also, both for vigilantism, and jay, eoc poses a challenge in the sense that it doesn't create a certain 'intellectualised' distance from both the victims and the perpetrators; there's no proximity in the judgment; it's emotional.

all of this is of course hardly relevant post-2004. there might be minimal space for accommodating some of it within the canon progression (for example, the fact that eoc typically emphasises the responsibility that comes with pre-existing familial relationships and allows for prioritizing them, as well as the flexibility regarding moral deliberations), but the utilitarian framework and the question of stopping the crime vs controlling the underworld is not something that can be easily reconciled with jay’s previous lack of interest in labeling crime. 

[sassmill]

I just want to be allowed to scream at my sister the way she screams at me. I want to be allowed to slam doors and throw things and break things. I want to be allowed to react to the way she treats us and not be called selfish.

[natsmagi]

FOR REAL I GET SO MAD WHEN I SEE POSTS LIKE "eww why are ntsmg fans such weirdos!! They dont deserve to have natsume/tsumugi as their favs!!" Like first of all we're not hurting anybody pls let us LIVE, second of all Have You Seen the Characters in Question. Like if we're freaks then what does that make THEM!??!? If they were real theyd be the freaks ur complaining abt!!! TL;DR natsumugi loser weirdo freaks canon and im here for it. Also that alice natsume is so CUUUUTE

ITS KIND OF ODD TBH ?? like obviously i get that not everyones going to like the same stuff but like. if you dont like characters being weird, why do You then also like ntmg.......? if its someone who doesnt ship them thats complaining then fine whatever but its so weird to me when people who claim to ship them make these complaints bc its like?? then why do you ship them???? do you Only like the bits where the two of them are being sweet to each other? do you only like their angsty backstory? do you only like the comedic relief? i have a hard time grasping the idea of dedicating yourself to a pair or character without loving (or at the very least tolerating) every aspect of them........ have these people read the stories? or are they being deliberately oblivious? i have no idea

it makes me really sad how people are so afraid of being seen as "weird" though. too often that word comes with negative connotations when that doesnt need to be the case at all, and i wish these people would stop living in fear and surrounding themselves with those who judge people based off how Socially Normal (according to a christian society) they are

also i just get annoyed seeing ntmg get watered down to some idealized couple completely stripped from their complexities to better fit what we're taught is Morally Correct (according to puritanical beliefs) or reduced to a comedic duo SHDKJFHD

[llycaons]

I'm finally watching s2 for real. the atmosphere IS very fun and true to the book, but like...not to be a killjoy but I hate that hc let that guy gamble his daughter's life. I hate it so much and it's bullshit that the justification of 'it's mutually consensual' is the last we hear about it. that woman never agreed to this! you can't bet other people like you own them! that might be the worst thing hc ever does like genuinely I don't understand why more people don't talk about it like he's at the head of an organization that allows people to use other human beings as bartering chips...or at least lets the men use their female family members. but he's treated in the fandom (and canon) like all his behavior is justified bc he's funny and sexy and devoted like...jesus christ. I feel so wild like how have I never seen anyone talk about this

[iwaasfairy]

You’re right about how people should mind their own business. I would like to add that sometimes it is necessary to inject into a relationship, especially toxic relationships. Because some ends in murder, or trauma, or a baby. Plus a teen ends up with a high school teacher is nasty (that’s the only part I disagree with you/unless if the teacher is in their 20s, but it’s weird) If two adults are happy in a relationship, then people should let them be.

Ok, I don't know why people try to read between the lines of things I said, even tho I know you're just commenting on the post- I'm not talking about relationships where a crime is being committed. I'm not talking about abusive relationships. I'm not talking about minors with adults. I'm not talking about people who are being forced, or being assaulted, or where a crime is taking place. I specified that in the post.

Two consenting adults. Two consenting adults making a choice to be together, and existing online. That's what I'm talking about.

The teacher thing I was referring to was a story of a hs gym coach in his early twenties who never had contact with his future wife in school. He happened to meet her after she was already out of high school. No grooming happened. No illegal shit. Just a consenting adult and a consenting adult, but people felt the need to start calling them out for being happily married years after the fact, when they weren't even so much as talking about their relationship. They're both in their thirties now. They were just a couple existing online.

And like I said, you're allowed to think it's weird. I also think it's a little weird if someone in their mid twenties wants to date a 19yo. But that's exactly the thing I was saying, ok. People infantilize young women, and then deny they're doing it.

You want to tell me a 21yo is old enough to vote, work, drink, drive, fuck whoever they want, go into sex work, have a baby, adopt a child, get their entire body covered in tattoos, get tossed into big adult jail, buy a whole house and get criPPLING debt

but not to date another consenting adult?

Really. Really? And you don't think that's sort of insulting to the young woman in question? All that, but you think it's ok to harass her because she's dating a 29 year old? If you think that's a little silly, then you agree with the point I was making.

And if you genuinely think "yea that's how it should be", then I just don't. agree with you. People only do this to young women. They only do this to women, not to men. It's degrading and gross and anti-woman.

[dravidious]

The absolute gall of some people who leave comments on the internet makes me so mad. I'm out here overthinking every little word, trying not to be annoying, and then someone comments on a Doom 2 mod showcase video "I'd rather play doom with normal guns." Like. Okay?? Leave then??? Why would you even say that???? Why are you here????? That's like going to a restaurant, walking into the kitchen, and telling the chef that you prefer your own cooking. Who benefits from this??? What is the point??? Why do some people act as if they have to say something, no matter how empty and useless, about every single thing they see online?????