#it's the principle of the thing at this point

[prokopetz]

You've talked before about how "generic" ttrpg systems still contain hidden assumptions about genre, story, playstyle, etc. (e.g. gurps and military scifi/fantasy) how do you figure out what those assumptions are? what should you look for in the rules to find them?

That's a fairly involved question for which a full answer is beyond the scope of a Tumblr post (even my notoriously long-winded ones!), but I find that a good place to start is with the "who gives a shit?" principle.

For example, suppose that the first piece of mechanically significant information on a game's character sheet is a statistic called "Strength", rated on a scale from one to ten.

Who gives a shit?

That is, why do we care how strong player characters are? Why do we care about having a definite, codified answer at our fingertips to the question of which characters are stronger than other characters, to a fair degree of precision? Why does any of this matter? What assumptions are we making about the nature of the conflicts that will be present within the game's narrative?

That's a fairly trivial case, but the principle can be extended to more fundamental features of a game's rules. Let's consider the classic Dungeons & Dragons style skill check, for example: roll a die, add a stat, compare to a target number, pass or fail. What assumptions are we encoding about the nature of conflict in this game?

Well, for a start, these assumptions might include:

The assumption that generating binary pass/fail outcomes for performing discrete physical, mental and social tasks is how most conflicts will be resolved;

The assumption that your game will benefit from these outcomes having a high degree of player-facing uncertainty;

The assumption that your game will benefit from this uncertainty containing a relatively high likelihood of complete failure;

The assumption that your game will benefit from the principal determinant of that likelihood of failure being some intrinsic and objectively measurable attribute of the acting character;

... and so forth.

If you're only familiar with Dungeons & Dragons and its very close imitators, these may seem like things you have to assume in order to have a functioning game, but there are a fairly specific set of conventions being expressed here. Why do we care about any of these things? Who gives a shit?

Even the first bullet point can easily be knocked down: one can imagine, for example, a game which simply assumes players can always choose to have their characters succeed at anything it's within the realm of possibility for them to do, and whose rules instead focus on providing a codified game-mechanical answer to the question of what that success will cost them, with the only uncertainty being whether the player is willing to pay that cost.

It's clear that a game which approaches conflict resolution in this way is expressing a strong set of genre assumptions. The trick is recognising that the industry-standard alternative (i.e., the D&D-style skill check) is equally laser-focused on a specific set of genre assumptions, in a way that's often rendered invisible by how common it is.

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying there isn't a simple checklist you can go down to identify a game's genre assumptions. But then, I warned you way up in the opening sentence that this would be the case – I hope I've at least given you a place to start!

[ragana62]

Here's my thoughts from the perspective of an author who is not nearly as good at tagging as I should be because I run into issues of knowing what main tags are still:

Correct tagging of squicks/triggers/kinks, major CW, etc. at a bare minimum is not spoiling things. It's basic decency, and it actually makes fics more accessible. Both because you're being a good person and letting people filter out works that aren't what they want/aren't safe for them, and because it makes it easier for people to find what they're looking for. Tags are basically (literally) SEO for your fic.

Knowing there are explicit descriptions of violence in a fic doesn't spoil what that scene(s) is/are for readers who are alright with reading it. It does however keep readers who could be harmed by reading that from that harm. Knowing that a fic includes kink and what specifically that kink content is, doesn't ruin the fic, if anything it makes it easier for people who want to read about that to find it. I won't name specifics, but the amount of times I've been looking for specific kink content and found it impossible to do so because 80% of the fics that do include it either don't tag it or tag it with some ridiculous vaguepost of a description tag that makes it impossible to find unless you were on a specific forum in 2006 to learn it or figure it out through trial and error is substantially more than the zero it really should be.

The biggest reason I see for authors not wanting to tag comprehensively is 'conventional media doesn't have trigger warnings/comprehensive tags' which is fine in theory, but also it isn't correct. We live in the internet age, spoilers exist, and a lot of people do look to places like TV tropes, reviews, the wiki, etc. especially if they are trying to avoid certain triggering content. Fanfics don't usually have external sources of spoilers unless you're in a community that reads similar fics and can be consulted for advice, that's why tags are so important. Because again, readers who want your content won't find you without the tags to search by, and readers who are doing everything they can to avoid a certain type of content can't actually follow 'don't like, don't read' without tags to help them filter searches.

For authors who don't like to tag particularly comprehensively, or who like me at times are posting WIPs that are in progress and which might at some point contain potentially triggering content but you aren't 100% sure it will or what that content will be yet, please consider using 'author chose not to use archive warnings'. That's literally what that is there for (and it should be a part of filtering if you are trying to avoid potentially triggering content, because as a general rule, that is a mark that indicates 'this isn't tagged comprehensively for whatever reason, whether I've not written the whole fic and suspect the tags will update with major squicks/triggers eventually as I go but I can't 100% say for sure what those will be, or I just don't tag my works in detail'). Because yes, not all works are for everyone, fiction doesn't owe the world perfect compliance with our safest, softest, most morally upright principles at all times, and 'don't like don't read' is still the golden rule, but if you could actively avoid causing harm to readers who would have chosen to avoid the work if they had known to do so, why wouldn't you?

AO3 👏 TAGS 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 SPOILERS 👏

i’m so tired of authors not tagging correctly because they don’t want to “spoil the fic”

correctly tagging your fic allows readers who DON’T want to read things like major character death, gore, mpreg or whatever may be their squick to filter your fic out from the main ship/fandom tag. not including the correct tags on your fic is harmful to readers and i’m tired of pretending it’s not.

“don’t like don’t read” great! i won’t! tag your fic correctly next time ffs

[transit-fag]

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

[sheeezu]

Stages of existence - by yours truly but we don't know each other

Consciousness--> void state, true form, null state, immortality, unfeeling, omnipotence, point of creation, soul, everything, nothing.

(Note: being consciousness is our true form, everything afterwards is some form of creation. You can also call it you existing as a soul, which is true neutral and without a bother, calm; its goal and first nature is to create).

Creations--> planes of existences, reality, coexistence, embodying forms, verses (etc multiverse) energy, scripts, laws, sciences, systems, cycle of rebirth and death, organised way of living, umiverses, religions, entities, knowledge, fate.

(Note: like picking up a paper and writing down whatever comes to the mind, just like that creations thrive into existence whenever they're called upon, think, the void state. +scripting refers to the fact that whichever life we choose to experience is infact scripted by us beforehand (systems are established, like basic grounding principles, it doesn't necessarily have to mean that we script the entire course of our life beforehand; and yes this is exactly how we script our drs)

Reality--> 4d, 3d, beliefs, material, relationships, species, a logical brain; subconscious, consciousness (awakened part of the brain) unconscious, thoughts, doubts.

(Note: Like the sky and ground, 4d and 3d lay the foundation for the formation of your beloved reality or simply where you found yourself and GODDAMMIT where have I found myself; I'D RIP MY LUNGS OUT THEN TO LIVE. That sort of things! Btw doubts are the mechanism which prevents absurd glitches or simply breaking of reality. And no, doubts don't have to exist.)

(Note!!!: okay so I isolated one of the creation which is reality, other follows similarly and are according to whatever nonsense it is)

Also yes honey, you've seen something from me that's similar and that is because this is a polished version of my chart of existence, basically! I realised if only I wasn't fuming at Cassandra it would've been a good post, yknow.

Sheezu's chart of existence

:))))))

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS PLAYING THEIR OWN GAME

scout: scout would give every class a shot. he really likes playing as soldier— a lot of no think just click. he tries to stay away from playing himself as a class, feels weird to him. goes out of his way to spycheck. no spies will ever get past him. once there’s more than two on the opposing team he switches to pyro. his taunt menu is FULL. has a couple australium weapons.

soldier: soldier will play himself because it’s no think mouse one. finds it humorous that it’s much easier to rocket jump in the game than it is in real life. market garden pro. he’ll occasionally play medic, but he will switch classes the second someone calls for him more than once and leave the team down a doctor. be appreciative of the medigun or suffer and die. will not switch his layouts, ever. even if you beg him in chat.

pyro: pyro will also give every class a shot; but they focus on playing spy. one of those players who would obsessively watch “how to play spy” youtube videos so that they can take what they learn and catch the enemy spy more in actual battle. catches the spy when he’s sure he was undetected. undetected by all but one. they also… really enjoy playing spy. don’t tell anyone. they fucking hate that spycicle though. won’t use it on principle. really cute cosmetic layouts.

demo: demo will also opt for his own class. it’s fuckin… hard. he doesn’t enjoy playing himself. he blows himself up more often in that damn game than he wants to admit. likes the mann vs machine game mode. sometimes plays heavy to no think w + m1. also really enjoys playing pyro! if he doesn’t want to suffer playing himself he opts for an “easier” class; but he’s pretty dedicated to playing his class and getting better at it.

heavy: y’all know if he’s not playing himself he’s gonna play his doctor. all of his class layouts are god tier though. good weapon layouts. the best cosmetics. got australium everything. too embarrassed to get the burly beast cosmetic. even more embarrassed to admit other medics with that cosmetic fluster him. he can’t even look at them. a very aggressive battle engineer. heavy playing engineer is a spam of “dispenser going up!” “sentry going up!” “teleporter going up!” “packin up!” “i’m moving this!” “movin out!” “let’s do this TEXAS STYLE”. his sentries are never in the same place for more than a minute before he’s forcing the team to push ahead again. taunt menu full of kill taunts. it’s so funny when it works.

engineer: hands down a sniper main. if only to kick sniper’s ass and gloat slightly if they’re playing together. he’s actually pretty good! has considered installing cheats, but it’s better to be good and piss people off to the point of accusing him of cheating. it’s only happened once. he doesn’t play himself, he would actually rather do his job at that point. stock layout, no cosmetics, no text chat available for this user. sometimes he’ll switch to scout for some more “dynamic” gameplay, but he’s not particularly good at the classes that have to be directly in the action.

medic: yes he does have the burly beast cosmetic, why do you ask? gives generous attention to all classes, even himself! decent, if a chronic overextender. KD ratio is fucked up but has insane damage output. he likes to play with heavy, but he won’t play his own class. they’re the real thing. sometimes heavy will ask, and he’s nice enough about the request he’ll oblige, but he’s not the best when medic plays his own class, so he’s more tempted to say no more often. some of the most frightening layouts imaginable. make no sense. people are screaming at him to change, he’s got voice chat muted. he’s always having a good time when he plays because he literally doesn’t focus on chat.

sniper: snipes will play other classes until engie gets too big for his britches and gets one too many headshots on his own class. then he’s absolutely switching over to sniper and he’s fucking destroying the entire server. fuck you, dell conagher. you have officially ruined the game for everyone in the server. he’s gotten kicked from multiple games being accused of cheating. and he’s not cheating, he’s just better. a prolific spy killer. if snipes is playing and engie’s pissed him off enough to switch, it is a bad day for every enemy spy. it’s almost instant. he sees the pixels of a cloaked spy in the corner of the map from the corner of his scope and he’s already predicted where that spy went and got him. he never has less than a five killstreak on the board at any given point in time.

spy: spy isn’t playing anyone but himself. and it’s why he doesn’t get better on the field while everyone else has found other, more creative, better methods to do their own jobs. he’s got one serious loadout, and one joke loadout. no cosmetics. whatever loadout he decides to play, he’s pissing everyone off on the team. he’ll focus down razorback snipers on the enemy team until they’re screaming at him to switch classes. he will purposely type in chat “no”. has only spy exclusive taunts.

[nymeriane]

I keep thinking about what does MDR do. It's first presented as sort of a joke in season 1, the company has data that needs to be refined, it looks like incomprehensible numbers because there are office jobs irl that deal with numbers that look incomprehensible to outsiders. Then you learn that there are scary numbers haha what a curious way to refine but at that point in the show it's not the weirdest thing.

And yet with mammalians nurturable, you realise that this is the second department with OTC that has been told horror stories about MDR attacking people. Clearly Lumon doesn't want others departments interacting with MDR and they don't want MDR interacting with others. They want MDR focused on their jobs. In fact they have many, many incentives for it.

It could be what expected of any company. If not for project Cold Harbor. Which is directly linked to Gemma and Mark. They go to great lengths to get Mark back to complete the project, meaning he is the only one that can do it. Why? What is he truly refining? What are the scary numbers that they are refining?

What if severance is not enough? If the whole thing of Lumon is brainwashing people, especially people that have been declared dead officially, it means the process unlike severance cannot just be medical, it needs refining, it needs a human refinement. What if the scary numbers are bad experiences of negative emotions (or 4 tempers) that are eliminated in the brainwashed people/ Ms Casey for example. Such emotions that can only be recognized by another human brain and translates as "scary numbers". What if Lumon is seeking a workforce of severed people truly obedient to the principles of Kier and devoid of any rebellion.

[maxispixels]

HANDPICKED

PART TEN.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1.4k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around (more) 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy ? (very)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine. Part ten.

You woke up to kisses raining on your face like morning dew, fresh and new, catching the dim light. In many ways, it was similar to being woken up by a puppy, with less drool, and only slightly better breath. A soft laugh escaped your lips, the sound hoarse of a voice not quite awake.

"What the hell are you doing—" 

He laughed too, from deep in his chest. "Couldn’t resist your sleepy face."

"I thought you hated the A.M…" you grumbled, barely managing to speak, each word interrupted by yet another kiss baptising your skin. "You always this clingy in the morning?..."

"You always this shy in the morning?" He teased, mirroring you, and you huffed, giving in. Not that your annoyance was sincere. His whims and affections made you mellow, your bones like cartilage, malleable, he could bend you without breaking you. You wanted it to last forever, his lips wearing you down to the marrow.

"You need to stop." you sighed to him with half a word and half your heart.

"But you’re so soft." His honeyed words melted into your skin, muffled against your cheek. You just whined in response.

Eventually, he found the strength to drag himself away and into the small kitchen. His absence soon left you cold, and it didn’t take long for you to follow him.

"You’re making breakfast?" you asked, still soft from his warmth.

"No, I’m preventing you from poisoning us with oatmeal or whatever other war crime you were planning." He shot you a look. "Like beans."

Your face twisted in mock offense. "Hey! Beans are a perfectly respectable breakfast food."

"Yeah. If you got no taste buds left." He was already pulling things from the cupboards, moving like he knew exactly what he was doing. Unfair, really. You barely knew what lived in those cupboards anymore—not since he started ‘helping’ with the grocery shoplifting…

You squinted at him. "You do realize that just because something’s soft doesn’t mean it’s bad, right?"

"Yeah? Then why’d you whine when I called you soft earlier?"

Your brain short-circuited for a second. "I—that’s not—shut up."

He grinned like a cat, mischief curling at the edges of his mouth. With a wink, he reached for the pan, cracking eggs with effortless ease. One-handed, barely looking, like he’d done this a hundred times before. "Easin’ you in slow," he mused, the yolks spilling golden into the heat. "Somethin’ simple. Soft. Pre-chewed, just how you like it."

You glared at him.

He pointed a fork at you like a teacher scolding a bad student. "See, you gotta have flavor. None of that beige nonsense. Food gotta be loud. Gotta have somethin’ to say."

You snorted. "It’s still just scrambled eggs. Didn’t realize breakfast was political."

Hobie smirked, churning the eggs. "Everything’s political, love."

You watched as he worked, moving with the kind of confidence that suggested he absolutely knew better than you. He toasted the bread in the pan with butter—refusing, on principle, to use the toaster—like some kind of toast puritan. Every movement was deliberate, precise, as if the fate of the entire breakfast hinged on whether the crust turned just the right shade of golden.

Then came the plating. Ridiculous effort for two people sitting in a cramped kitchen, but Hobie was serious about the presentation, stacking the eggs just so, adjusting the angle of the toast, even wiping the edge of the plate with exaggerated precision. Like this wasn’t a thrown-together meal, but a statement.

You raised an eyebrow at the creation before you. Eggs atop golden-buttered toast, aggressively dusted with black pepper, because, as per his own words, "Mild food is a crime."

"Very fancy," you teased, nudging his elbow.

"Course it is," he shot back, already digging into his own plate like he hadn’t just spent five minutes assembling it like a Renaissance painting.

You rolled your eyes but took a bite anyway. It was… fine. Good, even. But not the revolutionary experience he had built it up to be. Hobie, of course, was watching you like a chef waiting for a critic to award him.

"Well?"

You chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged. "You won’t win a Michelin star, but I’ll allow it."

Hobie let out a scoff of deep offense. "Unbelievable. You wouldn’t know good food if it bit ya."

You grinned, shaking your head as you took another bite, letting the warmth of the food settle in.

After eating, neither of you moved right away. The plates sat forgotten on the counter as you lounged together, your bodies naturally gravitating toward each other like the pull of a tide. At some point, Hobie stretched out on the bed, arms folded behind his head, long legs crossed at the ankles. You followed suit, lying beside him, your head resting against his shoulder like it belonged there.

Hobie grabbed an old newspaper, flipping through it like a child looking for the comic strip on the last page.

"You know you read the paper like an old man, right?" you said, watching him flip a page with exaggerated disinterest.

"Mmm." He barely acknowledged you, flipping to another section. "What’s the crossword say? Bet it’s ‘bout some posh twat’s third divorce."

You rolled your eyes, although your smile couldn’t lie, standing up to the sink to rinse out your plate. "You realize we have places to be, right?"

"Do we, though?" He dragged the words out, stretching.

"Yes. Some of us have jobs."

Hobie made an exaggerated ugh noise, tossing the paper onto the counter. "You say that like ya like it."

"I do," you argued before flicking some water at him from your fingertips.

As you put on your shoes, he sighed theatrically, finally getting up. "Fine, fine. Let’s get ya to your precious flower shop before the economy crumbles without ya."

"Appreciate your sacrifice."

The route was familiar, the city wrapped in a grey fog, damp air clinging to your skin. The only difference was that this time, you weren’t alone. Out of the bus, you stuck to the edge of the sidewalk, dodging puddles, while Hobie strutted right through them like he had some personal agenda against staying dry.

The flower shop’s familiar green storefront came into view, the little bell above the door jingling as you stepped inside. Warmth greeted you, along with the soft scent of lilies and freshly cut stems.

Routine settled in fast. The morning lull of slow, idle tasks, refilling the flower buckets, trimming stems, checking orders. 

Hobie had claimed his usual spot behind the counter, going through a dusty botanical book. He nudged you, turning the book towards you, pointing at a page on fungi. "Mushrooms are really punk. Grow in filth, breakdown the system, and if you pick the wrong one, you’re dead. Respect."

You barely got the time to laugh or think of an answer before he bugged you with something else.

"An’ look at this one," he flipped to one of the first pages on ivy, "clingy, invasive, suffocates its host. It’s the definition of capitalism." 

You chuckled at his antics, when the radio crackled to life, the classical music replaced by a news segment.

"...growing unrest in the city as protests continue to escalate..."

You paused mid-knot, fingers tightening around the ribbon.

"...clashes reported near..."

Another burst of static interrupted the words before they came through clearer, sharper.

"...authorities responding with force..."

The mood in the shop shifted. The hum of soft routine gave way to something heavier.

Your eyes flicked to Hobie. His posture had changed, still casual, still leaning back, but there was something sharper in his gaze now, something calculating.

The radio crackled again. More updates. More tension.

"So…" you started, hesitant. "I guess I won’t be seeing you often?"

He looked up at you from his spot on the ground. "Dunno." He seemed focused on the old radio.

You gulped. This wasn’t going to cut it for you. You wanted to know, to feel, to see what he saw and breathe the same air he did. Maybe you’d understand.

"Can I… Maybe… Come with you?" you didn’t know where that came from. "To a protest."

His silence stretched into an uncomfortable emptiness. Your heartbeat quickened as you imagined his response. He might laugh at you, or blame you for never having bothered before. Maybe he was going to call you out on something else.

He was just thinking, "Sure. If you want." he shrugged lazily, and you swallowed down your nervousness. "There’s a peaceful march going on later this week. You can come with me." 

Maybe peaceful marches weren’t what toppled the system, but they were a way in. A place for people to see, to learn, to step into something bigger than themselves. Surely that would be a nice way to introduce you.

If you like it there, stop there, I've been busy writing bad angst (sorry)

Tags: @hoe-bie

[forthefictionallesbians]

Aurora Winte, First Bloom, raced back to her hab at the breakneck speeds only an unleashed affini could obtain. The hallways of the Terabithia blurred into an endless streak of faces and doors to be barreled past. None of them slowed her storm of vines and anxiety, for none of them were hers. For the first time in her still-young life, she knew what it was like to truly panic. Her first floret's haustoric implant had informed her that they were having another panic attack, and she wasn't home to take care of them. Guilt flooded her mind, fueling her hydrostatic muscles to stretch further and faster, faster, faster. Still not fast enough. A thousand worst case scenarios flitted through her head as she nearly bowled over a garden of florets sunning on the walkway. She could feel the gaze of the ship's other affini on her, and hoped they would understand. Who among them wouldn't drop everything if their floret needed them?

When she finally arrived at the door to her hab, she flung it open without heeding the ai's chirped greeting, and plowed bodily into Wisteria Salashi, Thirty Third Bloom. Caught off guard, she bounced back, drawing herself together into kitling shape. "Where is she?" Aurora pleaded, frantic. Wisteria flicked her ears, a calming gesture in the body language of the local sophonts. Do not fear, everything is alright, it soothed.

"She is asleep in her bed, the poor thing. I had to use some Class Z's to get her there." If any affini besides Wisteria had drugged her floret without explicit permission, Aurora would have had strong words for them. But she trusted her experienced mentor, and Wisteria's calm demeanor soothed her fraying nerves. Stretching her mimicry of ventral spines skyward, she whistled air through them. Things were fine. Wisteria had taken care of it. She could expunge her hot breath, as the kitlings would do. Even though it served no biological purpose for her, mimicking the gesture still allowed the heat in her mind to escape. In the stillness post-anxiety, a new question emerged, however.

"How did you know?" Simple. To the point. Aglow with gratitude.

Wisteria laughed gently, a sound that combined rustling leaves with short, quick, gasps. To the best of Aurora's knowledge, it was a behavioral quirk she had picked up from the terrans. The kitling's concept of mirth functioned very differently from that of humans, and so it had taken her several explanations before she grasped the meaning. Learning to speak the biological languages of species beyond her first was challenging work. But deeply rewarding.

"Did you think nobody would notice you flying through the halls at rip-vine speeds? Obviously in distress?"

Aurora bared her neck, ashamed.

"Cyrille saw you, and sent me a message. I was in the area, and swung by." She was another of Aurora's friends, both of them studying under Wisteria.

The older plant laid a wing on her, a gesture of deep trust and care. "It's okay to be worried about your floret, Aurora. But remember, nobody in the Compact is alone. We help each other, and that applies to us too, alright?"

"Alright." She still felt horrendously embarrassed. Of course she should have reached out for help. It was one of the first principles of their entire society, a basis that separated them from the crude hierarchies of too many species.

"Hey, you're still young. And you're listening, which lets you learn from my mistakes." Her eyes twinkled

Aurora had a hard time imagining Wisteria rushing anywhere in a panic, or being anything but the wise, older bloom in front of her. But she just nodded.

"Now get in there, and see to your petal's nest. Waking up warm, happy, and safe is one of the best things you can give a floret."

[thedixonsteele]

Embrace the Mystery: The Path to Deeper Truth

We live in a world that craves certainty. We want clear answers, definitive explanations, and predictable outcomes. Whether in faith, science, or daily life, we are taught that knowledge equals control, and control equals security. But what if the deepest truths are not found in certainty, but in mystery?

Throughout history, the greatest thinkers, sages, and spiritual teachers have pointed us toward the unknown as the birthplace of wisdom. The moment we believe we have everything figured out, we stop growing. But when we embrace the mystery, we open ourselves to a higher level of understanding, transformation, and connection.

I. Mystery as the Gateway to Truth

Mystery is not ignorance—it is an invitation. In the biblical tradition, we see this in Jesus’ use of parables:

“To you it has been given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but for others they are in parables, so that ‘seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand.’” (Luke 8:10)

Why would Jesus teach in a way that conceals truth rather than making it obvious? Because mystery forces engagement. It calls the listener to seek, question, and wrestle with meaning rather than passively accept dogma.

The same principle applies to science and philosophy. The greatest discoveries have come from those who were willing to step into the unknown, challenging old assumptions and embracing new possibilities. Einstein, Jung, and even Socrates all recognized that the more they knew, the more they realized how much remained unknown.

Mystery is not a wall—it is a door.

II. The Problem with Certainty

Certainty feels safe. It gives us the illusion that we have control over life, that we understand how things work, and that we are secure in our beliefs. But there are three major dangers to certainty:

1. It Closes the Mind

When we believe we have all the answers, we stop questioning.

Many religious traditions have stagnated not because they lack wisdom, but because they refuse to evolve beyond rigid interpretations.

The same happens in science, philosophy, and personal growth—when we assume we know everything, we cease to explore.

2. It Breeds Division

Wars, conflicts, and ideological battles often arise from the belief that one side owns the truth while others are misguided.

The wisest people recognize that truth is multifaceted, and mystery allows for different perspectives to coexist.

3. It Blocks Spiritual Growth

In esoteric wisdom, growth comes from the unknown.

If we hold too tightly to certainty, we reject the deeper symbolic meanings in scripture, nature, and life itself.

Many of the greatest spiritual and intellectual breakthroughs come not when we have answers, but when we ask better questions.

III. Mystery in Scripture and Spirituality

The Bible is filled with hidden meanings and symbols that point beyond the literal. In esoteric traditions, these are understood as veiled teachings meant to initiate seekers into deeper wisdom.

1. The Mystery of Creation

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1)

The act of creation itself is a mystery. Science attempts to explain it with theories of the Big Bang, while religion speaks of divine will. But what if both are simply different languages for the same mystery?

In mystical traditions, creation is not just a past event—it is ongoing. The universe is continually expanding, just as our consciousness is meant to expand when we embrace mystery rather than demand certainty.

2. The Mystery of Christ

“Great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh.” (1 Timothy 3:16)

The life, death, and resurrection of Christ are layered with meaning. Was Jesus simply a historical figure? Was He a divine incarnation? Or was He a symbol of the inner journey we must all take—from suffering (crucifixion) to transformation (resurrection)?

The Gospels are written in symbolic language, filled with parables and hidden meanings that challenge the reader to look beyond the surface. Those who approach Christ with rigid certainty miss the deeper message—that His life is a map for inner awakening.

3. The Mystery of the Kingdom of God

“The kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:21)

If the kingdom of God is within us, then why do so many look for it outside—in institutions, doctrines, or political systems?

This is one of the greatest spiritual mysteries. The divine is not somewhere out there—it is here, now, within. But only those willing to seek, question, and explore will uncover this truth for themselves.

Mystery is what keeps faith alive. Without it, religion becomes just another system of rules rather than a path to transformation.

IV. Mystery in Our Own Lives

We do not just encounter mystery in spiritual texts—we experience it in everyday life.

1. The Mystery of Suffering

Why do good people suffer? Why do hardships exist?

No religious or scientific explanation fully satisfies this question.

But mystery allows us to transform suffering—not as a curse, but as part of the process of growth.

2. The Mystery of Love

Love defies logic. It can lift us up or break us apart.

It cannot be measured or fully explained, yet it is the most powerful force we know.

The moment we try to define or control love, it loses its magic—but when we embrace its mystery, it deepens.

3. The Mystery of Death and Beyond

Every religion, philosophy, and science has its theories on what happens after death.

But the mystery itself is what makes life meaningful—we must live fully, knowing we do not have all the answers.

V. Learning to Embrace the Mystery

So how do we become comfortable with the unknown?

1. Shift from Answers to Questions

Instead of asking “What is the truth?” ask “What does this mean for me?”

Instead of demanding certainty, seek understanding.

2. Study, but Stay Open

Read scripture, philosophy, and science—but don’t cling to rigid interpretations.

Allow multiple perspectives to exist without needing to choose one absolute truth.

3. Live in Wonder

Spend time in nature and recognize that the universe is bigger than us.

Recognize that life itself is a mystery, and that’s what makes it beautiful.

4. See Faith as a Journey, Not a Destination

Faith does not mean having all the answers—it means trusting the process even when answers are unclear.

The most spiritual people are often the ones who admit they don’t know everything.

VI. Mystery is the Path to Wisdom

Mystery is not something to fear or reject—it is something to embrace.

It is in the unknown that we grow.

It is in the questions that we awaken.

It is in the seeking that we find.

As Jesus, the mystics, and the greatest thinkers have taught us:

Truth is not handed to us—it is uncovered in the depths of mystery.

So the next time you find yourself wrestling with the unknown, remember:

You are exactly where you are meant to be.

[problematic-polls]

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

here's that long fucking ask y'all wanted

[sandsorghum]

complexities,perplexities or some thoughts I had at 2am about kento & hiromi

idk im just ramblin' here - u been warned

When i first fell for nanami kento, i thought it was because of his commitment to his principles, the steadfastness in that regard.

i definitely find a parallel of that in Higuruma, even though it was less tempered idealism than "lost (his) temper" idealism - Yet if anything, that tragic outburst of murderous passion is testament of his obsession and zeal. It's his temporary denial and anguish that underscores years of enduring such bitterness and frustration, the decades long slog proving the strength of his willpower, that accumulates into one terrible moment of weakness; a process that simultaneously corroborates and yet is corrosive to his convictions. And now his conscience will have to suffer that slip-up forever.

Something has died in him; if it wasn't already dying for a long time. What survives, subsequently? Or what is rebirthed? I don't regard his psychotic break as fragility. After all, can we recognise someone's strength only after they've been pushed to a breaking point? And it takes a different sort of strength of will to rebuild, to live past who you thought you were, to accept becoming someone you thought you'd never be. Maybe it even takes an admission of weakness, and gentleness...

Higuruma ultimately finds his North Star again, remembers why he became an attorney, it's a return to his original beliefs; There's a definite through line despite the ramification of his actions, the kind of consistency and commitment which I find so compelling, that's a quality he shares with Nanami.

But Nanami's lapse is far less ruinous, his escapist delusion leads him to play a salaryman for a few years, compared to Higuruma becoming a damning executioner in a day. When Nanami rediscovered his purpose, he just shrugged off the corporate schtick and becomes a jujutsu sorceror again, in a sense accepting what he knew he was destined for from an early age. He accepts the truth and returns to a reality already familiar, albeit unpleasantly familiar, to him.

For Higuruma there's so such going back. That "reality" has vanished. No old job or routine he can simply pick up again.

Higuruma's "getting lost" has much bigger consequences - he can no longer be a lawyer, what was once his calling are now mere echoes of the past, reminders of the things that made him him.

The years of effort molding his identity have been entirely stripped away, by his own hands. Imagine all that pain and confusion on top of how hard it is for him to navigate through his guilt - fighting Sukuna was meant to be an act of, if not absolution then penance, hell, probably even capital punishment. But he didn't die so now what? it's just...purgatory for him?

Adding to that, he's supposed to be the 'next' Gojo Satoru? Perceived that way for his power alone? Admired or even looked up to, in some respects? How laughable. How cruel.

Pressured to live up to that mantle, when he already has such a hollowed out sense of self, I suspect being valorised that way is a further type of torturous erosion. But I also know Higuruma isn't the type to permit himself to wallow in such self-pity for long; ironically in a way that makes him resemble Satoru, he won't let reputation define who he is. So, I don't think that bothers him as much.

The real challenge is finding out how to operate in a new system, above or outside the laws he once upheld, in a way that's aligned to his fundamental values, to preserve some version of his old self. Now he's in a job where he can make the call to kill curse users, at his own discretion? Who's going to question his judgement, besides himself? What's the line between vigilante justice and divine retribution?

So, I honestly don't know if Higuruma can even adhere to those same strict ethical codes he had before, how much his basic sense of right and wrong has shifted or will shift due to the nature of his new work.

Which is all to say, I wonder now if maybe the appeal I see in Higuruma isn't exactly steadfastness at all, but flux instead; that is, the seemingly contradictory responsibility and impetus of self-determination, through the construct and malleability of moral choices. If there is anything consistent, any proof which makes him an unquestionably principled character, perhaps it would be the very questioning and interrogation of which of his actions are right and fair, a thorough self-examination. If I love Nanami for his stalwart certainty, strangely I'm equally drawn to Higuruma for his rigourous scrutiny, his so-called "uncertainties", how he holds space for...not doubt, but other perspectives and possibilities. And how he finds his way through that maze of multiplicities, whether he's stumbling or striding, I want to accompany him on that journey. Goodness, restraint, mercy...none of these are foregone conclusions with him; that's what makes him so enticing to me.

also yall seen that nose of his? sheesh

anw obvsly can't stop yapping about them my inbox is open if anyone wants to yak about how they will fold you in half are so unique

[del-stars]

what r ur top 3 worst most painful traumatizing sirius black ships

love this ask love your mind

sirius x barty. of course. definitely the worst. this traumatises him for months afterward. it's 6 years later and he's still laying awake at night thinking abt the shit barty did to him (the shit he did to barty is not much better but hey there's no use lingering on the past!). like peak situationshipcore, peak principle of least caring, peak toxicity. i adore them. they hate each other

age gap professor xeno x grad student sirius mmmm yummy bc theyre insane. xeno using sirius as his little experiment and essentially becoming a one-man cult dedicated to him... toxic in the sense that sirius' ego becomes truly out of this world. unbeatable. and why wouldnt it when you have a brilliant, published, tenured professor telling you you're the best thing to walk this earth.... toxic for xeno because sirius graduates and moves away and then he kinda loses his mind

some good ole fashioned saintstar. i think this one is traumatising bc like. it's both of their first real relationships. and they both do like each other. so it should work, but it doesn't. they drive each other up the wall. it gets to a point where mary can't even look at sirius without picking a fight, and sirius can't look at mary without being irritated by something. they're too alike, their personalities are both very similar and they are both battling gay demons so it's a very long and drawn-out drama. it's traumatising not in the way it was a bad relationship necessarily but in that sitting-in-the-shower-listening-to-indie-sad-girl-music-for-six-months-wondering-why-it-didn't-work-out way

honourable mentions: sirius x alastor, sirius x evan, and sirius x pandora

[pebblysand]

this is a political space.

i know. i've been a bit quiet lately.

quiet with everything that's happening, and since castles ending, and not that i've been regrouping, but i've been putting off blogging. mostly because in the grand scheme of things, i don't believe that what i say (or think) really matters, and i never want to sound pedantic or entitled. but.

i have gotten/seen a couple of comments about castles in the past few weeks that have made me reflect. specifically, in their own way, both the ones i'm thinking of at the moment, were saying multiple versions of the same thing: "i read fanfiction for the purpose of escapism, and i didn't like that this fic featured politics so heavily."

now, i want to state at the outset that i am not writing this post to throw shade at these commenters, or to complain in any way. one of them follows me on here, and was awfully kind and sweet and really not meant as a criticism at all, just an observation. the second was a post made on reddit, which is a reader space, and they have a right to their opinion as long as they're not screaming it in my face in my comments (which in this case they weren't), so that's no problem.

it's just that, as i said above, it's made me reflect, and question. why do i do this? as you may know, i've embarked recently on my first "real" project since castles (the fault in faulty manufacturing, part 2) which i'm hoping to release on St Patrick's Day (please lord let me keep my deadline), and am envisioning to be probably around the same length, wordcount-wise as tfifm (but we shall see).

broadly speaking, it is a story about love and choice, and hope, and sacrifice. more narrowly, it is a story about a girl who is having to cope with being caught in the aftermath of two wars: a colonial war she didn't fight in (the Troubles) but is omnipresent in her daily life, and a civil war she did fight in (the Second Wizarding War) but which almost no one around her knows exists. it is a story about the dynamics of marital affairs and the boundaries of choice, a story about the realities and ethics of war reporting in the media and a story about adoption and surrogacy.

i wonder: do you see where i'm going with this? my point is: chiefly, yes, i write about people. i write about people and their lives and i write with as much empathy as i can muster, to give a voice to my characters (and through them, to all of us). that will always be my guiding principle. but i also think that to me, with the kind of writing i do, the line between people and politics is thin. how can i write about abortion and/or surrogacy, without acknowledging dobbs? how can i write about muggle rights without acknowledging the fact that muggles and squibs are an allegory for marginalised communities?

the comment i read on reddit basically said: "i liked pebbles until she started including politics." i won't lie: it made me cackle (because what a slay) but since then, i can't stop wondering: what "until" are we talking about, here? the aftermath of the war is political. the trials are political. harry's job as a cop is political. ginny's assault is political. or, is the problem when international matters got involved? when muggle politics became more explicitly influential? is the assault on a personal level okay, but the moment you give it political resonance with #metoo, it isn't?

nothing i write will ever exist in a political vacuum. because people and their experiences don't exist in a political vacuum. and, to be clear, i have never written to convince anyone. i am not here to convince you that the 2003 US invasion of Iraq was wrong, or that violence against women is endemic. if you are a reader and disagree with these statements, then that is - frankly - your problem, not mine. i see my work more like a... dissenting opinion. a hopeless, mostly impact-less but also somehow hopeful and impactful dissenting opinion.

i was re-reading the dobbs dissent this morning (as one randomly does, lol). in conclusion, justices breyer, sotomayor and kagan wrote: "with sorrow, [...] we dissent." these days, i think that's why write. because with sorrow, i dissent. and i don't think my little fanfictions in this little corner of the internet will ever be important or change anything to the world we live in - i don't even think the original fiction i will eventually write (i promise) could change anything. i just hope that someone else will read my work and think: "yeah, with sorrow, i dissent, too." and so, with sorrow, we will continue to dissent.

i know (and understand) that what fandom wants, right now, is escapism. i know (and understand) that to a lot of people, right now, fandom is a safety valve and a safe space away from the aggressions brought on by the rest of the world. you see this even with published fiction and the rise of "cosy" literature. and god, i get it. i really do. i don't blame you. what fandom wants from me, right now, is more slipped and the wolf's just puppy and less castles, act 3.

but i can't give you that. it's never really been me, and it's certainly not me right now. i don't want to escape, i want to blow up barricades. i don't know if that will ever change, i don't know if i'll feel differently in a year or two years' time. but for now, as far as i'm concerned, as far as my work is concerned, this is a political space.

and with sorrow, i dissent.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Difference between a god and a mortal

A thing I noticed about the Zelda timeline is following

Phanes is a being who embodies everything (not Zelda lore but Greek mythology lol the fates exist in Zelda and they are Greek mythology characters so l guess )

Also the heavenly principles in my opinion are pretty great to differentiate between what is above mortals and what isn’t

Every being that can evade at least one of its laws and see beyond the bounds it set is technically a god like being

Because what is above mortality other then godhood

The heavenly laws are life, death , space and time if you can give the middle finger to it you should be above a mortal being

Like already said you need one law broken to be able to break all others even if by technicality or theory

Hylia is a very good example like she is above the concept of space as she keeps spawning as Zelda but not her true self which still exists along with Zelda (because if not what the heck is answering when we visit a hylia statue lol)

Being able to infinity respawn as Zelda puts her above life and death by technicality and being able to respawn through time as often as needed puts her theoretically above time

Wind fish another example as it from what we saw is timeless (being able to appear whenever timeline if we count phantom hourglass and Hyrule warriors whale god as the same entity) being above time means being above life and death and space gets ignored via sheer technicality

Who cares about the concept of space if you can freely travel through it and appear at any point

Also lana and cia who as time guardians obviously have to be above time as well and if they can open portals whenever they ignore space as well and obviously they couldn’t have possibly been around since the beginning if they aren’t capable of breaking life and death

Demise same as hylia is beyond space and death and the rest is a necessity to even be above the first two concepts

Then there is Null as well who is beyond space as well and therefore timeless and above life and death by nature of the first two

And while those beings are still all mostly capable of being destroyed or hindered

Hylia and demise literally are just playing chess and the pawns are the heroes or villains and the playing field is the timeline they don’t really can be truly killed perhaps a bit hindered by eachother but not killed

Null was destroyed by the triforce because it literally couldn’t be defeated any other way

The gods of the Zelda universe are interesting

[midnightslurpees]

Prologue

Knight!Steve Harrington x Princess!Reader

Find series master list here

Chapter warnings: No warnings, just a longer introduction into the fic. (800+ words)

A/N: Ahhh. It's finally happening. I've finally started to write my first fic. This little idea of my has been brewing my the back of my mind a while now and thought i would finally write it and share it with others Not to sure how long the overall story will be but i know the plot start to finish. Just hopefully i can find my love of writing trying to get from point A to B

================================================

In a realm far away, a tale unfolds, of hearts entwined, yet fate foretold. Forbidden love, a flame so bright, But destiny's grip, a bittersweet plight. He, a knight with a heart so true, She, a princess with duties to pursue. Their hearts collide, a love untamed, yet an oath was sworn, their love constrained. She, a jewel of a kingdom fair, her hand was sought by a suitor's snare. To wed another, her heart would break, yet it would be for the kingdom's sake. Fate's cruel twist, their love torn apart, the knight felt a pain, like a dagger through his heart. He yearned for ease, a twisted cure, He sought help in magic's allure. The forest answered his desperate plea, offering an elixir to set him free. In his grief-stricken state, he took the forbidden path, Unleashing dark magic, a furious aftermath. His heart turned to darkness, hatred did consume, A pawn in the game, he danced with doom. Once noble and just, he became twisted and vile, He aided the villains, his heart filled with guile. Though this story weaves a tragic thread, I can assure you on how this tale ends. If there's one thing we know for sure, it’s that true love can save us all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teigrod, a kingdom in the north. Centuries have passed since the first stones of the village walls were laid. Inside these walls was a bustling hub of activity and a centre of trade and commerce. Its streets are lined with stone buildings adorned with colourful banners and bustling market stalls. Within there’s a baker, blacksmith, seamstress, apothecary and anything one village would need to get by. At the heart of the kingdom lies a castle. A castle made of stone and built by the family whose blood still lives there to this day.

Behind the castle walls are gardens. Once only for the royals that lived within, it turned into a training ground for the royal guard and a place where the farmers grew more of their crops as the years passed. The back of the gardens has become part of the enchanted woodlands. The kingdom's military strength is evident in the presence of well-trained knights who serve as protectors of Teigrod. Clad in shining armour, they uphold the principles of chivalry and defend the kingdom from external threats. Vines from the woods climbed over these walls to find solace away from what lurks deep within the forest.

As for the royal family, the King and Queen ruled side by side for the last few years. They only ever had one child, Y/N Teigrod, the next in line for the throne. The king and queen would always put the needs of the kingdom before their own and do whatever was best for it. Despite this, they were a highly known family amongst the many kingdoms around and would go to many events and dances and were always the ones to keep the peace.

Teigrod was one of those kingdoms where the kingdom loved their rulers, and the rulers loved them. There never was a real dynamic of peasants and royals, which is why the kingdom flourished as it did. However, not everyone perceived Teigrod in the same light. Azuria viewed the harmonious and inclusive nature of Teigrod as a sign of weakness. It is what love does to you after all. Azuria sat on the other side of the Oerfel mountains and was carved into the brittle stone. A once beloved queen gone meant that only the bitter heart of a king remained and their eldest son.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Music and laughter erupted throughout the village streets. The scent of wildflowers filled the air as the townsfolk adorned their homes and shops with vibrant garlands and wreaths. Colourful ribbons danced in the breeze, clinging onto doorsteps and street posts in hopes of not flying away. The rhythmic beats of drums and the melodies of flutes filled the air. The sound of ancient hymns echoed throughout the streets. The village square became a stage as the village folk danced, twirled and leaped to the music. The town folks stare at the maypole with their faces flushed with excitement for the day's events. Everyone wore flower crowns or a garland of some sort, embracing the festivities of Beltane.

The same energy was evident throughout the halls of the castle too. You were wandering through the halls, adorned in your regal gown of silk and lace. You exchanged greetings with the castle staff, who were preparing for the day's festivities. The maids scurried about, decorating the halls with vibrant tapestries and floral arrangements, whilst the cooks busied themselves, making delectable aromas waft through the air.

Your eyes darted around the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of Robin, your handmaiden. Your footsteps sped up as she ventured down the hall leading to the throne room. In your hand you held a delicate flower crown that you’d woven for Robin using flowers found within the castle garden. As you turned a corner, you collided with a sturdy figure. Your steps faltered, and her eyes met those of honey and moss belonging to the head of the royal guard.

“My apologies, princess”

[cavegirlpoems]

Right. There are fundamentally two Sabbats, I think.

On the one side, you have the Orthodoxy, or the Noddists, or the Gehenna cultists, or what have you. These are the guys out doing a holy war against the forces of the antediluvians because the apocalypse is due any day now. Extremely religious, extremely disciplined, and actually pretty well coordinated. They care about Caine and such a lot. These tend to be the ones calling the shots in the Sabbat.

But then on the other side, you have the heirs to the original first Anarch revolt. The ones for whom liberty is the highest priority, so that they'll excise their own humanity in their pursuit of freedom. That noddist stuff is often an afterthought, they hate the antediluvians for the purely practical reason that Elders are oppressive tyrants and antediluvians are that but even more.

It's not that the anarchist wing of the Sabbat aren't fanatics, per se (you kinda have to be in order to get onto a path), but that their cause is different. They're radical egoists, they're anti-government terrorists, they're anprims who want to tear the whole structure down and watch it burn.

There is, I think, a strong argument that the anarchist Sabbat are the real Sabbat; the noddism and mysticism and structures of power and authority came along later as the Black Hand started to get their fingers into the sect and influenced it.

There are a lot of elements of the Sabbat who are mostly there because of some historical injustice by vampires in power, who are in the Sabbat because they want to destroy the structures of power that allowed that injustice, either out of moral principles or for personal revenge. The Salubri antetribu because of the Tremere's genocide of the Salubri, the Harbingers of Skulls because of the Camarilla allowing the Cappadocian purge, the Assamite antetribu because the Camarilla cursed their clan. Hell, in many ways even the Tzimisce are there because of their vendetta against the Tremere, which - considering that the Tremere turned a lot of them into Gargoyles - is understandable.

That's the thing with the Sabbat. Regardless of faction, they have to believe in something, and believe it so hard it becomes monstrous.

One of my favourite schticks is the Sabbat vampires who turn up to a domain with a Camarilla/Anarch conflict, and genuinely try to help the Anarchs out of sincere conviction, and their methods are typical sabbat methods, but also they have a point.

I love when the Sabbat get to turn around and say "You're not actually any better than us, morally, and at least we believe in something other than the status quo."

On the Appeal of an Anarch Game

So the appeal in an Anarch game, really, is in Leftist Infighting SImulator, thank you @silkenred for the perfect strapline.

If you've ever been part of a group with progressive politics, you'll understand. Spats between people who read theory and people who don't. Spats between people who read different theorists and have different interpretations. Spats between people who think engaging with the system as it is and mitigating the worst of it is necessary, and purity police who say the masters' tools will never destroy the masters' house. Everyone constantly looking for a reason to knock each other down - she's an abuser, he's a cryptofascist, and if push comes to shove you can just shout about liberals and get everybody turnt.

Progressive communities are a crab bucket: a bunch of people justifiably angry about their circumstances who can't agree on what to do about them and usually on a hair trigger because survival under late capitalism is exhausting. The only thing that unites these people is dissatisfaction with the way things are.

That's how you give the Anarchs depth. You look at how progressive groups behave, and you understand why, and you add the Beast to that and suddenly the tendency fights have teeth. It doesn't work when they've been written by people who don't get it, who haven't been part of that progressive political cycle. Too many writers are pastiching the behaviour without understanding the genuine impulse to change and the genuine fear of making things worse and the root-and-branch pain that drives that behaviour in the first place.

It doesn't help that the Free State just sort of happens and doesn't have centuries deep metaplot/backstory roots like the Sect War does. The tragedy there is that old-school White Wolf did write an absolutely perfect history of the Anarchs, complete with multiple, genuine efforts to enforce solidarity and comradeship on a movement and get it pointed in one coherent direction. The problem is, they did it for the wrong sect!

The Code of Milan and the Purchase Pact and the political ascension of the Panders are fucking perfect elements of an organised Anarch sect's history, but they're what the Sabbat has going on and the Anarchs have centuries of not existing. If I could retcon one thing that would be it: the history of the Sabbat would become the history of the Anarch sect and the Sabbat would be this dark mysterious other thing that refused to lie down and become part of history.