#what would lead to no performance as reparation?

[wainswright]

The trial of Socrates took place over a nine-to-ten hour period in the People's Court, located in the agora, the civic center of Athens. The jury consisted of 500 male citizens over the age of thirty, chosen by lot from among volunteers. Athens used very large numbers of jurors, from 500 to as many as 1501, in part as a protection against bribes: who could afford to bribe 500 people? All jurors were required to swear by the gods of Zeus, Apollo, and Demeter the Heliastic Oath:

"I will cast my vote in consonance with the laws and decrees passed by the Assembly and by the Council, but, if there is no law, in consonance with my sense of what is most just, without favor or enmity. I will vote only on the matters raised in the charge, and I will listen impartially to the accusers and defenders alike."

Most of the jurors were probably farmers, as that was the principal occupation of the day. For their jury service they received payment of three obols. The jurors sat on wooden benches separated from spectators by some sort of barrier or railing. Given Socrates's fame and the notoriousness of the charge against him, the crowd of spectators was most likely large--including, of course, the most famous pupil of Socrates, Plato.

The trial began in the morning with the reading of the formal charges against Socrates by a herald. Few, if any, formal rules of evidence existed. The prosecution presented its case first. Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon had three hours, measured by a waterclock, to make their argument for a finding of guilt. Each accuser spoke from an elevated stage. No record of the prosecution's argument against Socrates survives.

Following the prosecution's case, Socrates had three hours to answer the charges. Although many written versions of the defense--or apology--of Socrates at one time circulated, only two have survived: one by Plato and another by Xenophon.

Following the arguments, the herald of the court called on the jurors to consider their decision. In Athens, jurors did not retire to a juryroom to deliberate--they made their decisions without discussion among themselves, based in large part on their own interpretations of the law. The 500 jurors voted on his guilt or innocence by dropping bronze ballot disks of the sort pictured above into marked urns. Only a majority vote was necessary for conviction. Four jurors were assigned the task of counting votes. In the case of Socrates, the jury found Socrates guilty on a relatively close vote of 280 to 220. (Interestingly, if less than 100 jurors voted for guilt, the accusers had to pay a fine to cover trial costs.)

If a defendant is convicted, the trial enters a second phase to set punishment. The prosecution and the defendant each propose a punishment and the jury chooses between the two punishment options presented to it. The range of possible punishments included death, imprisonment, loss of civil rights (i.e., the right to vote, the right to serve as a juror, the right to speak in the Assembly), exile, and fines. In the trial of Socrates, the principal accusers proposed the punishment of death. Socrates, if Plato's account is to be believed, proposed first the punishment--or, rather, the non-punishment--of free meals in the center of the city, then later the extremely modest fine of one mina of silver. Apparently finding Socrates' proposed punishment insultingly light, the jury voted for the prosecution's proposal of death by a larger margin than for conviction, 360 to 140.

The execution of Socrates was accomplished through the drinking of a cup of poison hemlock.

http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/socrates/greekcrimpro.html#:~:text=Only%20a%20majority%20vote%20was,fine%20to%20cover%20trial%20costs.)

—

Checking later: “by what i think is just if no law exists” imply prosecution introduces the law, then the charge, then the facts, then the argument.

This implies defense only has ONE opportunity to rebut all of that. I’m guessing theres court procedure to settle question of law before trial, no discovery process, no witnesses, evidence like a circus sideshow and entertainment if opinions are published in town square.

The first vote is to decide the question of law, which I suppose is very vague if juries dont come back with their own chaotic decision. (a two option vote?? criminal trial emphasis even though it is called civil law? am i getting these mixed up or did athens?)

The second vote is punishment.

so: the first vote is actually “do you think this guy should get punished.”

and the system was so prone over the top comical brutality (just by how it looks set up) it was common for people to go “ope the 500 man jury went sideways lets rescue this little fella,” (i think) but socrates stubbornly took his death sentence despite everything.

also how come performance isnt an option for punishment. that doesn’t seem plausible.

[muffinlovingbirb]

Dungeon Meshi Octopath Travellers AU

(art by u/gentleowl1 from reddit)

Laios the Hunter - For Exploration

The son of a village chief, with insatiable appetite for monsters. Equipped with hunting skills and a hunting hound from his family, he seeks to explore the world, see what it have to offer.

Falin the Cleric - For Reparation

A Cleric separated from her beloved brother since she was young. Falin was able to reunite with her brother, albeit at the cost of abandoning her pilgrimage. Now, Aelfric's flames are starting to dim, and Falin starts her quest to finish what she had forgo times ago

Marcille the Scholar - For Longevity

A half-elf with irregular aging, Marcille struggles to find companions that would live for as long as her. Deeply afraid of being abandoned by her compatriots, Marcille starts on her quest to extend the lifespan of other races, no matter what route she must go through to achieve it.

Chilchuck the Thief - For Protection

A half-foot lockpicker who is deceived when he was but a novice adventurer. Now that he is married and have three daughters, chilchuck starts his journey to bend the system, so that half-foot will enjoy more rights and protection. With his half-foot guild established, he went on a quest to end half-foot abuse.

Senshi the Apothecary - For Education

A dwarf who went with an adventuring party exploring a dungeon, only to be trapped within the deepest floors. As Senshi explored the dungeons, he is able to learn and admire the delicate balance of Ecosystem within the dungeon itself. As Senshi arrived at the higher floors, he noticed adventurers lacking any regard to the ecosystem, and took it upon himself to educate people, one at a time.

Namari the Merchant - For Repayment

Namari's father left her with a significant about of debt, one that he will never repay. Eventually, Namari was forced to repay the debt and exiled from her home town until she can repay every cent of the debt, with interest. Now, Namari takes on merchantry to gather the coins she needs.

Toshiro the Warrior - For Succession

The prince of the eastern empire, Toshiro is only one of nearly 50 heirs to the throne, and only one can succeed the emperor for the throne. Equipped with a blade, Toshiro travels the many continents, hoping to find a treasure that he can use to win the throne.

Izutsumi the Dancer - For Liberation

A beastling creates through unethical experimentation and sold to a traveling performance troupe to be an attraction lead izutsumi to harbor deep resentments and a great craving for freedom. Finding an opportunity to escape, izutsumi broke out of her cage and now try to find a place where she can be truly free.

[princeescaluswords]

So, because Scott is poor, Derek should buy him a new car? That seems logical to you?

Did you come here looking for a fight? Because you just found one. I believe that this ask refers to this post, where I argued that Derek's performative asceticism isn't accidental, and that the show was implying that his privilege and wealth enabled his antagonistic behavior in the first two seasons.

Nowhere did I argue in that post, where I compared the speed with which Derek repaired his car window after Chris Argent's thug smashed it to the fact that the McCall family vehicle didn't have a driver's side window all season, that Derek owed Scott a car. I have, in the past, argued that the Hales owed Scott McCall reparations for repeated assaults, property damage, disruption of academic pursuits, and for taking over their self-appointed task of protecting Beacon Hills. I wish that the show had made it explicit in A Promise to the Dead (4x11) that Derek gave Scott the money from Garrett's locker rather than leave it ambiguous.

I'm never going to suggest that Teen Wolf went all in on an analysis of class struggle -- Heavens, no! -- but it didn't ignore the consequences of the Hale's upper class identity. "Everyone can be corrupted by money!" Peter howls in Monstrous (4x10) and he is a prime example of that. Similarly, Derek's wealth and privilege enable him to dwell, unhealthily, on the traumas of his past. I know of very few people who could take three months out of their life to obsess over family tragedies with no mention of work or responsibility, and still have cars, properties, and personal care items. Derek is not well served by this behavior, isolating himself from the mundane and from the mechanics of living. He intends to achieve his goals by himself due to trust issues, but he is forced to rely on Scott McCall as the only way to accomplish these things, and man-oh-man is he bitter about it.

But as the show had it's lead protagonist argue in Weaponized (4x07) "while we're trying not to die, we still need to live." In fact, I would argue that you can trace Derek's redemption arc by his willingness to live. At the start of the show, Derek is "totally alone" and his wealth and privilege allow him to operate like that. In Seasons 3 and 4, though, he starts to remember how to live. We see him in an actual home, even though it is the Loft of Solitude. He purchases a more practical vehicle. He allows himself to think about romance. He makes friends with the Sheriff and, amazingly, Chris Argent. A key scene is when he puts his wealth and privilege to positive use by trusting Braeden, hiring her to find Kate. He's using his wealth in a positive manner. It is no longer enabling his isolation. Look at Derek in the movie. He is fully living. He has a home, a family, friends, a business. Before the nogitsune seeks its revenge, Derek's primary focus is watching his son play lacrosse and getting him to embrace his family's heritage.

Since Derek's role was always to serve as a narrative foil to Scott, the lead protagonist, this arc highlights Scott's story. Regardless of what happens to Scott, he never isolates himself, with one important exception. At all other times, he worries about his grades, he wants to get into a good school, he wants to play lacrosse, he wants to date people, he keeps his friends close, he works with Deaton, he brings his mother lunch, etc. Yes, there are terrible things happening, but he doesn't forget to live while trying to stop corrupted hunters, Alpha packs, Japanese fox demons, and multi-million dollar assassin hit-lists. Fandom tends to hold the attention he pays to everyday living against him, but Scott knows from direct experience these things are important, and he doesn't have the wealth and privilege to put them on hold for months while dealing with villains or his own trauma. The exception? Season 5A, where Theo schemes to isolate Scott. Scott is still an alpha, a True Alpha, but that privilege alone won't save anyone. There's a reason that Melissa's primary advice -- as much as I might despise it on an emotional level -- is "You'll get them back. You have to."

Teen Wolf certainly wasn't an "eat the rich" show, but it did have a definite point of view that virtue was based in everyday things, the tasks and opportunity that should be in common with all of humanity, and not in the isolation that great wealth, ancient pedigree, or exclusive privilege grants.

[mariacallous]

‘Confiscating lowlifes’ property’

State Duma Speaker Vyacheslav Volodin has proposed confiscating the property of the “lowlife” Russians who emigrated after the February 24 invasion of Ukraine. (He’s very upset about emigres continuing to earn rental income on homes they still own back in Russia.) Volodin advocates taking their property as “compensation” for the supposed damage they’ve inflicted on Russia by criticizing the war. Senator Andrey Klishas, who chairs the Federation Council’s Constitutional Legislation and State Building Committee, has endorsed this proposal (though he says Russia’s Criminal Code will need to be revised).

(Opinion) Dark days lie ahead for private property protections in Russia — columnist Tatiana Rybakova (Republic):

Rybakova says State Duma Speaker Vyacheslav Volodin is likely just seeking attention with his recent proposal to expand Russia’s criminalization of anti-war speech and allow the authorities to confiscate the property of citizens who emigrated after the February 24 invasion. Despite subsequent endorsements from other senior lawmakers, Volodin floated the idea in a rant on Telegram, after all — not in formal draft legislation. Rybakova believes he was just performing for the Kremlin.

In reality, argues Rybakova, such an initiative would face strong resistance from Russia’s elites, who understand that seizing emigres’ apartments today is a slippery slope that could lead to the police showing up tomorrow outside certain officials’ mansions. Real estate is also the last remnant of Russia’s middle-class wealth, so it is useful for the authorities to threaten these assets, sowing fear but never exercising (and thereby exhausting) this leverage.

Rybakova warns that real estate is nevertheless a poor investment given Russia’s weak guarantees on private property ownership. She advises everyone leaving the country to sell everything possible and to be sure to pester state tax collectors to remove those items from their taxable assets. Many Russians who left after the full-scale invasion still cling to the hope that they can return after the war ends, but Rybakova points out that the conflict could drag on for years. In fact, even a post-war democratic Russia could prove just as bad for property ownership, given that the invasion is burning up wealth it took Russia decades to amass. Any reparations would saddle the state with additional burdens that the authorities would pass onto the public.

And what about the Russians who haven’t left? Rybakova says they should expect the state to come for their assets sooner or later, one way or another, squeezing everything they can out of the population as the war drags on and drains federal coffers.

[publishinggoblin]

"Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use."

This is a very easy point for me to say, you misunderstand the issue at a base level. This is not the same thing at all.

Humans internalize an image and think about it, but once they walk away from it, literally the second we look away from it, it begins to morph and shape and mix and it becomes something else well before a person sits down to make something inspired by it. We latch on to the parts that already speak to things inside of us. We exagerate them and grow them and soon we forget details that the artist felt were key that we didn't connect to. We are not scalping the image, we are inspired by it. We don't store it in our data banks and then later clip a part off.

Machines cannot be inspired. They cannot creatively think through something. It just takes the exact piece of art and clips this from it here, and that from it there. It steals the art itself. It's not actually intelligent-- AI is a terrible term for it-- as you noted it's machine generated, but it's not even generated, it's machine scalped and collaged, though collage is also a misnomer because it fails to take part in the digital collage genre as well, because it can't make intelligent choices about what it's doing or why. It can't generate thought-- it can only steal.

It's true a lot of the issues are built into capitalism. If we didn't have to make money to survive, this would be a very different discussion. If "ai art" algorithms were "trained" on "ethically sourced materials", this would be a very different discussion. If it could spit out its results WITH a list of what art it took from, to cite it, that would be a different discussion. But there would still be plenty of artists in this area who WANT ownership of their work, who DO care about credit, and for fair reason. They're the ones who actually put in the work to make the damn thing.

But to compare "ai art" to things like photoshop, clone tools, or filters that adjust colors or tones or spot fix is such a bad faith argument. Those literally automate things that used to take manual labor. That's a different dialogue entirely, more akin to the automation of fruit picking, or order taking at a McDonalds. That is people choosing to put in the time and give the machines the 'skills' to perform a task we want automated. And there are a lot of caveats there about class issues, but that's a dif convo. Point is, this isn't about automation.

AI art steals. It does not automate, it steals. Artists did not put in their data to make their lives easier, tech bros coded and put in algorithms to steal the data from artists to make THEIR lives easier. The very purpose is different. "AI art" generators can only do anything because they scalp art from other people without permission, without commission, and without reparation. It steals and piece meals and voila. You have something that most of the time is too hard to tell where it even stole from. But not always-- sometimes it's so clear what it took from, and that's a whole other thing.

You can write a long post about how technology has changed over time but if at the core you still don't understand the issue, then it's not a relevant thought on the topic, and says nothing.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

I know you know this, but you don't like the AI art, you like a piece of art it stole that you'll never know the origins of, or the artist of. The AI can't make art. It can only scalp other people's work and lead you to attributing your like of it to the AI, rather than the person. And that's the real tragedy here. It doesn't just take away pay or money, it also steals the credit. It steals your ability to look up more work by the artist, to connect with another person through their work. It cuts off their fingerprints and tricks you into thinking you're seeing something it made.

I think you're right about one thing-- the use of it as meme making material is potentially neat. Something that cant be copywritten, something that KNOWS what it is, that it's stealing, used noncommercially for silly things? I don't think it has no purpose, but the amount of damage it has done to the environment (literally in the form of Planet Earth but also the artist environment, ttrpg environment, etc) is so big that supporting its use at all keeps it around, and that's the main issue. Some things we gotta let die and turn away from at every turn, because it does too much harm, even if you personally, or your friends, don't use it that way.

Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

[rose-fall]

SOULS: POWERS

-

History

The people living in this world have developed soul powers as a strange form of evolution. Eons ago, their ancestors started to develop soul powers to help survive since they had a harder time surviving in the harsh nature than the prehistoric animals did. The animals had evolved in ways that made them masters of their environments and can survive the environments rather easily, so their souls never developed soul powers. The ancestral people evolved more through their souls. These powers were eventually used to help each other, since the prehistoric people lived in groups. The powers started off as the basics like basic elementals, flight, and some basic perception based powers. Basically anything that helped with survival, examples; fire helped with warmth, flight helped with navigation, night perception helped to look out for any dangers, etc.

Classifications

While the people have comfortable lives in modern times and don't have to worry about the harsh weather or predators as much, the soul powers continued to evolve and vary. They're still used regularly so they never went away. Powers can be sorted in the following classifications, with examples:

Elemental (fire, toxins, ice, crystals, etc.)

Perception (night perception, distance perception, translucent perception, future perception, etc.)

Additional Appendages (wings, spikes, armor, extra arms, etc.)

Weaponry (swords, daggers, bullets, landmines, etc.) [note: they may not look detailed or fully resemble a weapon, but still perform like artificial weapons do)

Psychological (causing hallucinations, mind reading, memory reading, etc.)

Physical Manipulation (reparation, crushing, levitation, melting, etc.).

Soul powers used to be able to be easily categorized like this but nowadays they're so varied that some are hard to categorize, giving way to an “Other” category.

Soul Energy

The powers are just an extension of the soul, powered by the core, so soul powers like fire or water aren't actually fire or water. Just soul energy with fire-like or water-like qualities if that makes sense. Water powers, for example, isn't actually h20, but it could still cleanse and cool one down in the heat, but it can’t hydrate.

Genetics

soul powers are inherited from a blood-related family member, most often parents. Sometimes the offspring can share the same power with a parent or other blood-related family member, but with a minor difference that adds something new enough to the power. This is how new types of powers can be made, they're kinda like genetic mutations. Example: if someone has standard bubbles as their power and they have a kid and that kid has a mutation like this, their bubbles could be a different shape than circular bubbles. It's similar enough since it's inherited from a blood relative but different enough that it's considered a separate power than “standard bubbles”. Something to note: If two people share the same power, it doesn't automatically mean they're related. For example, Liam could meet someone else who has the fire power, but they’re not blood-related. Back when soul powers were relatively new, several people would have developed the fire power without being blood related since soul powers weren’t as varied at the time. This lead to multiple people having the same powers much later down the line. This isn’t limited to those who have powers that’ve been around since the beginning.

Soul Conditions

It is impossible to not have a soul power though soul conditions do exist. They're rare but some people can have their power "leak" more than normal or not enough. These are known as LEC (leaking energy condition) and REC (restrained energy condition). They’re both genetic. Whether or not a condition is a problem depends on what the power is. LEC leads to someone activating their power uncontrollably and the power being stronger than normal. REC leads to someone not being able to activate their power easily. Essentially those with LEC need to work on not putting as much effort into their power activation as they normally would if they didn’t have the condition, which is harder than it sounds. And those with REC have to work on putting more effort into their power activation than they normally would if they didn’t have the condition. A singular person cannot have both LEC and REC.

Development

No one is able to use their power for the first several years of their life. While the soul is there and the power is already predetermined once the soul was formed, the power itself needs time to develop and be ready for use. A kid doesn’t know what their power is or use their power until they’re around 7-9 years old. Though at this point, the power is fairly weak.

Colors

Just like eyes, the color of one’s power is also based on their soul. If one has a yellow soul and their soul power is fire, then their fire will appear as yellow. If one has heterochromia, their soul power will be bicolored to reflect this. Etc. etc.

[be-gay-do-heists]

hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam. 

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

------

(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/. 

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

[agentrouka-blog]

Who is Elder Brother in asoiaf? I have read the thread about he is rapist and is getting redeem. Is he connected to hound in books?

The Elder Brother is the current leader of a monastic community on the Quiet Isle. A former knight, rapist and all, he almost died in the Battle of the Trident at the end of Robert’s Rebellion, but was washed up naked downstream on the Quiet Isle and spent the next ten years in repentant silence, and is now serving the community there. He is trying to heal others, physically and mentally.

It is not redemption. It is atonement. Not a state of arrival but a constant state of active reparation. The difference is absolutely crucial. 

We meet him in AFFC Brienne VI, when Brienne, Septon Meribald and Hyle Hunt are stopping there for the night on their search for the Hound, who they suspect holds Sansa, and who is accused of the horrifying raid on Saltpans which obliterated the town. Brienne wants to question and kill him.

The entire chapter is a meditation on guilt and atonement, on inner torment and inner peace, on where to go when you are lost. From the crooked path through the mudflats to reach the island, to the revelation of the Hound’s fate (to the reader, if not entirely to Brienne) to Brienne’s confession.

It prepares the reader for the next chapter, in which Brienne performs her act of ultimate heroism by saving the orphans at the Crossroads Inn. Everything in AFFC leads up to it.

The Hound is Brienne’s dark counterpart, which is why this act of ultimate knighthood and her subsequent near-death takes place in the same place the Hound was mortally wounded. Why Brienne retraces his steps in being captured by the now much less honorable Brotherhood, after searching for the sisters the Hound spent so much time with.

On the Quiet Isle she casually observed a very tall, injured gravedigger serving the community, as well as a black warhorse in their stables, renamed Driftwood. They never interact. 

The Elder Brother informs Brienne that he found the injured Hound and cared for him, and he “died”. He did not commit the atrocity at Saltpans, someone else stole his helmet from his “grave”. She should not look for retribution from a dead man. The girl is no longer with him. She should go home to her father. She doesn’t. Her quest, though more hopeless than ever, continues and leads her to her true self.

The Hound, meanwhile, is in stasis. He quietly serves, but his war horse “washed up” with him and remains in the stables, aggressive to all who come near.

Is redemption possible for a killer of children? We don’t know. Atonement and repentance is a path that is open to him, though. It is tread by many others in this fourth book. A Feast For Crows is all about the aftermath of chaos.

But for some, it is not over.

“Though he committed many sins, he never sought forgiveness. Where other men dream of love, or wealth, or glory, this man Sandor Clegane dreamed of slaying his own brother, a sin so terrible it makes me shudder just to speak of it. Yet that was the bread that nourished him, the fuel that kept his fires burning. Ignoble as it was, the hope of seeing his brother’s blood upon his blade was all this sad and angry creature lived for … and even that was taken from him, when Prince Oberyn of Dorne stabbed Ser Gregor with a poisoned spear.”

Just as Stranger is alive in the stables, so is Gregor a revenant of his former self. Sandor’s dark “quest” is not over.

"The maesters may believe what they wish. Ask a woods witch if you would know the truth. The grey death sleeps, only to wake again. The child is not clean!"

(ADWD, Jon XI)

The Hound is maybe trying on the shoes of atonement, but he has barely begun. And everything suggests he will “rise” again. Just like the dead in the North, just like the dragons from stone, just like his brother.

There is unfinished business between him and Gregor, between him and the concept knighthood, between him and the concept of mercy.

Sandor Clegane will not become the second Elder Brother of the Quiet Isle because there is a different elder brother waiting for him.

[otp-armada]

If Jason wanted to convince me that Lxa was the love of Clarke's life, he wouldn't have killed her off, effectively cutting their love story permanently, with 4.5 seasons left of the show. Their arc, starting with their introduction in 2x07 and concluding with L's death in 3x07, is 17 episodes long, accounting for 17% of the entire narrative. If I generously add 3x16 to the count, an episode in which L is already dead in the corporeal world Clarke is trying to return to, it's a whopping, grand total of 18%. An 18% congruous with Clarke's intense connection to Bellamy and vice versa, which even A.lycia confirmed as romantic. Feelings romantic enough to spur the formation of a love triangle. An 18% ignoring Clarke's ultimate choice to go back to her people when L wanted her to stay.

CL is a chapter in the story begun and wrapped up in the first half of the narrative. And that's omitting further illumination on the finer details making CL so problematic for Clarke. Do you expect me to believe it was coincidental for CL to occur at a time when Clarke was spiraling down a dark path, commencing with Finn's death? Who played a hand in forcing Clarke's own hand, with Finn, and TonDC, and Mount Weather? Whose example inspired her to ensnare herself in armor and warpaint to be strong enough to save her people? Whose behavior did she emulate in the pushing away of support from her people? Who gave her a place to continue hiding from Bellamy, her mom, and her friends? A place to be someone other than Clarke Griffin? In lieu of facing her fears like the heroine she is? The purpose of CL wasn't to provide Clarke with a magnificent, fairy tale romance gone tragically wrong. I believe Jason's intent with the relationship aimed to further damage Clarke's psyche after L's death, to solidify the belief that her love is not only deadly to its recipients but renders her too weak to do what must be done for survival.

After 3x16, CL is an often superfluous namedrop or two per season for Clarke to briefly react to before carrying on with the plot. Season 5 aside, most of these references are needless enough to be able to interpret them as attempts at reparations for the L/CL fandom's benefit -and their views- without altering the course of the story. Crazy me for thinking it's not enough to constitute an ongoing love story. Crazy me for not thinking this was on par with interactions between living characters. Crazy me for thinking it doesn't befit a love story for the protagonist.

This sliver of the story is what Jason and the CLs would have us unquestionably believe is the pervasive love story of The 100's seven seasons?

Despite his lie and the constant gaslighting from the pineapple CLs, some of us know how to decipher what a temporary love interest is. Lxa? I think you know where I'm heading with this.

I'll acknowledge my admittedly negative appraisal of CL as someone who recognizes its value to the LGBT+ community and treats it as valid while not caring for L/CL on a narrative level. I felt, when swayed by L's influence, Clarke became the antithesis of what I found admirable about her. I resented Clarke's acquiescence of her power to the commander. I wanted nothing more than to remove the wedge L had driven between Clarke and Bellamy.

Let me try to give L/CL the benefit of the doubt for a minute. I don't hold L as responsible for Clarke's choices, but I recognize the prominent role she played in their upbringing. The push and pull was an intriguing aspect of their dynamic, as was the chance to meet a manifestation of who Clarke might have been if she was all head, no heart. Her fall from grace was arguably necessary for her to be a fully-rounded character, not a Mary Sue. It wouldn't be realistic for the protagonist of a tragic story about a brutal world to be a pure cinnamon roll. When forgiveness is an innate theme with Clarke, it would be my bias at work if I was content with her applying it to everyone but Lxa. Clarke saw enough commonalities between her and L to identify with the latter. When she extended forgiveness to L, I believe it was her way of taking the first step on the path to making peace with herself by proxy. None of this means I wanted them paired up. At best, I made my peace with seeing the relationship through to its eventual end. In time for L's death, ironically. My passivity about them notwithstanding, my conclusions are, however, supported by canon.

If I may submit a Doylist reason for romantic CL? Jason knew he had a massive subfandom itching to see them coupled, thereby boosting ratings and generating media buzz. A Watsonian reason? Without relevance, I think L would have been another Anya to Clarke. Grapple shortly with the unfair taking of a life right as they choose to steer towards unity, melancholy giving way to the inconvenience of the loss of a potential, powerful political ally. Romance ensured her arc with L would have the designated impact on Clarke's character moving forward in the next act.

For a show not about relationships, Jason has routinely used romantic love as a shorthand for character and dynamic development. It's happened with so many hastily strung together pairings. And when it does, everyone and their mother bends over backward to defend the relationship. It's romantic because it just is. Didn't you see the kissing? Romantic.

No, The 100 at its core is not about relationships, romantic and otherwise. But stack the number of fans invested exclusively by the action against those of us appreciating a strong plot but are emotionally attached to the characters and dynamics. Who do we think wins? Jason can cry all he wants over an audience refusing to be dazzled solely by his flashy sci-fi.

Funnily enough, "not about relationships'' is only ever applied to Bellarke. Bellarke, a relationship so consistently significant, it's the central dynamic of the show. The backbone on which the story is predicated. Only with Bellarke does it become super imperative to represent male-female platonic relationships. As if Bellarke is the end all, be all of platonic friendship representation on this show. In every single television show in the history of television shows.

Where was this advocacy when B/echo was foisted upon on us after one scene between them where he didn't outright hate Echo? When one interaction before that, he nearly choked the life out of her. If male-female friendship on TV is so sparse, why didn't B/ravens celebrate the familial relationship between Bellamy and Raven? Isn't the fact that they interpret Clarke as abusive to Bellamy all the more reason to praise his oh-so-healthy friendship with Raven as friendship? They might be the one group of shippers at the least liberty to use this argument against Bellarke, lest they want to hear the cacophony of our fandom's laughter at the sheer hypocrisy of the joke. Instead, they've held on with an iron grip to the one sex scene from practically three lifetimes ago when the characters were distracting themselves from their feelings on OTHER people? They've recalled this as "proof" of romance while silent on (or misconstruing) the 99% of narrative wherein they were platonic and the 100% of the time they were canonically non-romantic.

Bellarke is only non-romantic if you believe love stories are told in the space of time it takes for Characters A & B to make out and screw each other onscreen, a timespan amounting to less than the intermission of a quick bathroom break. If it sounds ridiculous, it's because it is. And yet, some can't wrap their heads around the idea that maybe, just maybe, a well-written love story in its entirety is denoted by more than two insubstantial markers and unreliable qualifiers. B/raven had sex, and the deed didn't fashion them into a romance. Jasper and Maya kissed but didn't have sex. Were they half a romantic relationship? Bellarke is paralleled to romantic couples all the time, but it counts for nothing in the eyes of their rival-ship fandom adversaries. Take ship wars out of it by considering Mackson. Like B/echo, the show informed us that Mackson became a couple post-Praimfaya, offscreen, via a kiss. Does anyone fancy them an epic love story with their whisper of a buildup? Since a kiss is all it takes, as dictated by fandom parameters, we should.

If Characters A & B are ensconced in a romantic storyline, then by definition, their relationship is neither non-romantic nor fanon. "Platonic" rings hollow as a descriptor for feelings canonically not so.

If the rest of the fandom doesn't want to take our word for granted, Bob confirmed Bellarke as romantic. Is he as delusional as we are? Bob is not a shipper, but he knows what he was told to perform and how. Why do the pineapples twist themselves in knots to discredit his word? If they are so assured by Jason's word-of-god affirmation, then what credibility does it bear to have Bellarke validated by someone other than the one in charge? They're so quick to aggressively repudiate any statement less than "CL is everything. Nothing else exists. CL is the only fictional love story in The 100, nay, the WORLD. CL is the single greatest man-made invention since the advent of the wheel."

We've all seen a show with a romantic relationship between the leads at the core of the story. We all know the definition of slowburn. We can pinpoint the tropes used to convey romantic feelings. We know conflict is how stories are told. We know when interferences are meant to separate them. We know when obstacles are overcome, they're stronger for it. We know that's why the hurdles exist. We know those impediments often take the shape of interim, third-party love interests. We know what love triangles are. We know pining and longing.

Jason wasn't revolutionary in his structure of Bellarke. He wasn't sly. Jason modeled them no differently than most other shows do with their main romances. Subtler and slower, sure. Sometimes not subtle at all. There's no subtlety in having Clarke viscerally react to multiple shots of Bellamy with his girlfriend. No subtlety in him prioritizing her life over the others in Sanctum's clutches. In her prioritizing his life above all the other lives she was sure would perish if he opened the bunker door. There is no subtlety in Bellamy poisoning his sister to stave off Clarke's impending execution. In her relinquishing 50 Arkadian lives for him after it killed her to choose only 100 to preserve. In her sending the daughter Clarke was hellbent to protect, into the trenches to save him. In him marching across enemy lines to rescue her. In her surrender to her kidnapper to march to potential death, to prevent Bellamy's immediate one. No subtlety in Josie's callouts. No subtlety in Lxa's successful use of his name to convince Clarke to let a bomb drop on an unsuspecting village. Bet every dollar you have that the list goes on and on.

There are a lot of layers to what this show was. It was a tragedy, with hope for light at the end of the tunnel. It was, first and foremost, a post-apocalyptic sci-fi survival drama. Within this overarch is the story of how the union of Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake saves humanity, ushering in an age of peace. In this regard, their relationship transcended romance. But with the two of them growing exponentially more intimate each season, pulled apart by obstacles only to draw closer once again, theirs was a love story. A romantic opus, the crescendo timed in such a way that the resolution of this storyline -the moment they get together- would align with the resolution of the main plot. Tying Bellarke to the completion of this tale made them more meaningful than any other relationship on this show, not less.

Whereas the trend with every other pair was to chronicle whether they survived this hostile world intact or succumbed to it, Bellarke was a slowburn. A unique appellation for the couples on this show, but not disqualifying them from romantic acknowledgment.

Framing Bellarke in this manner was 100% Jason's choice. If he wanted the audience to treat them as platonic, he should have made it clear within the narrative itself, not through vague, word-of-god dispatches. A mishandled 180-degree swerve at the clutch as a consequence of extra-textual factors doesn't negate the 84% of the story prior. It's just bad writing to not follow through. And Jason's poor, nearsighted decisions ruined a hell of a lot more than a Bellarke endgame.

The problem is, when Bellarke is legitimized, the pineapples are yanked out of their fantasies where they get to pretend the quoted exaggerations above are real. Here I'm embellishing, but some of them have deeply ingrained their identities in CL to the degree where hyperbole is rechristened to incontestable facts. An endorsement for Bellarke is an obtrusive reminder of the not all-encompassing reception of their ship. A lack of positive sentiment is an attack on their OTP, elevated to an attack on their identity. Before long, it ascends to an alleged offense to their right to exist. The perpetrators of this evil against humanity are the enemy, and they must attack in kind, in defense of themselves.

Truthfully, I think it's sad, the connotation of human happiness wholly dependent on the outcome of a fictional liaison already terminated years ago. I'm not unaware of the marginalization of minorities, of the LGBT+ community, in media. I haven't buried my head in the sand to pretend there aren't horrible crimes committed against them. I don't pretend prejudice isn't rampant. When defense and education devolve into hatred and libel for asinine reasons, though, the line has been crossed. You don't get a free pass to hurt someone with your words over a damn ship war. No matter how hard you try to dress it up as righteous social justice, I assure you, you're woefully transparent.

[kny111]

by Janine Francois

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore…” asks Langston Hughes in the haunting lines of his poem, “Harlem.” Written nearly 70 years ago, Hughes’ words remain just as relevant as ever.

“Harlem” is typically read as referring to Black aspirations—the crushing of dreams, and particularly, the promise of racial equality by American society at large. However, his words here may apply to literal Black dreams as well. A growing amount of research has found that Black Americans experience significantly less slow-wave sleep—the kind required for actual, rejuvenating rest—than white Americans. The lack of slow-wave sleep can cause serious mental and physical health issues, including premature death. This disparity, or “sleep gap,” has been the subject of numerous studies, some of which have found that Black Americans are five times more likely than white Americans to get less than six hours of sleep per night, are more likely than white Americans to feel sleepy during the day, and on average get an hour less sleep per night than white Americans.

There’s no scientific consensus on what, specifically, causes the sleep gap. As reported by The Atlantic in 2015, however, leading theories point to both experiences of discrimination and structural inequality—aspects of one’s environment that make one feel unsafe and insecure—as root causes. As Benjamin Reiss pointed out in the LA Times in 2017, Black Americans have lacked access to sufficient sleeping environments since slavery: “Aboard the ships of the transatlantic slave trade, African captives were made to sleep en masse in the hold, often while chained together. Once in the New World, enslaved people were usually still made to sleep in tight quarters, sometimes on the bare floor, and they struggled to snatch any sleep at all while chained together in the coffle. Slaveholders systematically disallowed privacy as they attempted round-the-clock surveillance, and enslaved women were especially susceptible at night to sexual assault from white men.”

Just as sleep deprivation was used as a means to control slaves, the modern-day sleep gap continues to weigh down many Black people, like me, today. I can feel it in me: It breaks my spirit, as I exist in between half-conscious states; never fully awake or asleep, never able to distinguish between the two. This may be the true power of racism—its force encompasses everything, seeping into our dreams at night and deflating our capacity to envision a better future. How can the radical Black imagination rebel against a system that so thoroughly seeks to destroy us? What would a future look like where we are liberated, reparations are paid, and we can finally rest?

Last year_,_ I attended an exhibition called Black Power Naps that begins to answer those questions_._ After debuting at Matadero Madrid Contemporary Art Center in Spain, where I saw it, the exhibition has since travelled to Performance Space New York, where it is on view through January, 2019. The ongoing project by Black Latinx artists Fannie Sosa (referred to as Sosa) and niv Acosta presents a series of interactive installations that invite Black visitors to lie, nap, relax, and play, providing “deliberate energetic repair,” as the artists put it, on the dime of white cultural institutions.

I and many other Black people are constantly aware of our Blackness in hyper-white environments, including art institutions. Elijah Anderson, a prominent ethnographer and Yale lecturer, describes us as “black interlopers” in his 2015 essay, “The White Space”: “When present in the white space, blacks reflexively note the proportion of whites to blacks...and... may adjust their comfort level accordingly; when judging a setting as too white, they can feel uneasy and consider it to be informally ‘off limits.’” As W. E. B. Du Bois suggests, we experience double consciousness, where we simultaneously become aware of both our Blackness, and the responses to it, in white spaces. The surveillance our bodies experience in art institutions—from being followed around in their gift shops to being watched by the gaze of their gallery attendants, and all amidst an undiverse collection of artworks and workforce—informs our feelings of exclusion. But perhaps Black Power Naps does something different: It is designed with Black people in mind, inverting a white art institution into a “Black space,” where the Black body is the center around which all the show’s installations conceptually orbit.

To enter Black Power Naps, you must take off your shoes. Removing one’s shoes is an act associated with sacred places—a symbolic gesture of leaving the world’s toxicity behind. Once inside the room, you see six “healing stations” before you, each “invented,” as the artists put it, to evoke different bodily sensations through physical contact. Each is adorned with silks, satins, and chiffons in delicate pastel hues to create a cozy cocoon of a room. The stations include the “Black Bean Bed,” a pool filled with uncooked black beans, designed to soothe someone experiencing a panic attack. If you lie in the pool, the beans swallow your body while cooling the skin, enveloping you in comfort. The “Air Swing,” meanwhile, is a swing surrounded by three silent fans intended to increase the amount of oxygen you breathe in and, effectively, improve sleep. And the “Atlantic Reconciliation Station” is a water bed intended to help descendants of enslaved people forcibly brought through the middle passage—or pushed off ships along the way—reconcile with the ocean by reminding them that, as the artists explain, the ocean is an “adoring entity that has always had our back.” Continue reading..

[aguagua]

here. have a Chunk of a danror thing I was doing because im stumped on writing dialogue for the second half. started just typing this in my notes when I was sick.

its about the comfort of a bacon egg and cheese sandwich but I didn’t even GET to the bacon egg and cheese sandwich part. so it’s also about post keene, like maybe a year after, Ror and Dan lol. I’m not good at writing so be nice to me. enjoy

Patrol drove into later hours than anticipated. Certain gangs needed handling. Certain people needed apprehending. Rorschach’s lost track of time more often than he wants to admit. Time isn’t that important to him anymore, and who wouldn’t put off the time that came to tear off his face and put on a disguise for the day? But, the nite hours give Rorschach the blanket of protection he needs to operate and exact the justice this city so desperately needs. The daylight seems to frighten a specific type of evil back into whatever holes they crawled out of for the evening. But Rorschach will soon be vulnerable to the curiosity from crowds of 9 to 5’ers making their morning commute. He needs to get away from prying eyes. Normally he’d take to the sewers, climb down the nearest manhole, but, the gash on his leg needs serious tending. Unfortunately, he can’t risk getting an infection, not when the responsibility of protecting New York has now fallen solely on Rorschach’s shoulders. Not a single costumed hero is left to care for this dying community. His kind is, in fact, a dying breed.

Canal Street, where his apartment is, too far. The alley he normally leaves his things, too exposed. Time was short as the sun lazily climbed up into the sky, soon it would be a spotlight all on Rorschach. He’s in Bryant Park now. Which means the brownstone is only a few streets away and Daniel isn’t normally awake yet. Rorschach can go down to the basement, fix himself up, and eat a bowl of cereal before Daniel would ever notice. Smart idea. He’ll be safe there. The vigilante begins his trek, limping slightly but he distracts himself from the pain he feels in his calf by digging his fingers into his palm.

************

Daniel and Rorschach have not spoken to each other since the night after the Keene Act was passed. When Daniel decided to quit. Maybe it was better that way. No words needed to be shared anymore. What would even be said? Some poor attempt at reminiscing about the good old days? Good old days that Daniel chose to end? Or maybe it would be some long lecture about how Rorschach should hang up the mask. “There’s still a chance to get out.” A lecture that would sound more like a desperate plea. Ridiculous.

Through their lack of conversation, raised an unspoken agreement. It’s an uncomfortable thought to Rorschach, to know someone is thinking of him. That Daniel still has his concerns and wants Rorschach to be safe. That he cares.

When Rorschach sneaks in through the kitchen window (He’ll save Daniel the humiliation of breaking his lock again. Ha ha.) and makes his way down to the Owl Nest, he finds just some of the terms of their agreements. Replenished first aid with plenty to spare, just begging Rorschach to take them with him. The cot, back by the super computers, with fresh sheets. Always fresh. Rorschach has rested his head there more than a few times.

And Rorschach knows when he goes upstairs to eat, he’ll find the surplus of canned foods he knows Daniel did not buy for himself. The leftovers in the fridge that are tucked in the fridge, in kitschy owl casserole dishes. The cherries that Daniel does not like eating. The sugary cereal. The occasional cola. Any and all of the foods in the Rorschach diet.

Rorschach initially thought this was a method for Daniel to catch Rorschach and sit him down for a long lecture, that all this stepping out of the way had an ulterior motive, it was bait. But, he’s heard a handful of times when Daniel was awake and about upstairs and he never came down the Owl Nest steps. He never hustled into the kitchen when Rorschach was there, scarfing down cold, canned soup. Rorschach would come here and take care of himself, with food, medical supplies, and rest that Daniel provided and will always provide. Daniel respected their silent agreement and Rorschach’s space. Perhaps, Daniel, too, didn’t know how they could hold a conversation. Maybe he felt conversation was worthless but still felt the need to provide his ex partner some kind of reparation for leaving. Maybe Rorschach scared him now. All avenues made sense.

He wishes Daniel would see him. No he didn’t. Yes he did. No he didn’t.

*******

Rorschach grabbed the first aid kit, took his place on the cot, rolled up his torn pant leg (will have to repair later) and went to work. In a skirmish with one too many Knot Tops, one of the few that remained standing managed to knock Rorschach down and dig into his calf with a knife. The perpetrator didn’t succeed in incapacitating Rorschach, to say the very least.

Rorschach bit his lip to hold back a hiss as he cleaned the injury with antiseptic. Such an outward expression of pain is a weakness (it’s human) and Rorschach isn’t weak (or human).

It frustrated Rorschach to no end that he had Walter’s limitations. He couldn’t just brush off an injury, ignore the hunger pains, stave off sleeping, at least not for so long. He always pushes his body to its absolute limits. But, avoidance to these Human needs (Walter’s needs) would lead to burn out, poor performance and he can’t allow that.

So, Rorschach properly cleans and stitches the cut, with a nice tight stitching. He sits back on the cot, letting the pain dully throb in his leg while he stares out at the Nest.

A layer of dust covered everything except Rorschach’s small corner. Archie was covered in a large tarp. A whole world was down here, locked away, covered up and left to rot. Rorschach could replay dozens of memories in this space, in every little corner. The back of the workshop where Daniel broke his arm in the exo armor. The workbench, where they sat and shared colas, strategizing for their takedown of King of Skin. By Nite Owl’s locker where Daniel found a rat chewing at his uniform and Rorschach chased it down the tunnel. Beside Archie, after taking down the Big Figure, celebrating a little too closely of each other. On the steps where Nite Owl revealed himself to be Daniel Dreiberg and opened the door to share his private life with Rorschach.

How was it so easy for Daniel to close out this part of his identity? Easy, maybe, considering Daniel had the privilege to turn away. He had another life. Rorschach did not.

Best to not harp on the past, he thinks. Rorschach permits himself a pause. Lets the thoughts stop racing, a period to sit in the silence, and rest his eyes.

The quiet is cut short by the sound of footsteps upstairs. Daniel’s awake early. Why? He’s never been an early riser. Rorschach walked over to the stairs, listened close to the footsteps. Sounds like he’s still on the second floor. Rorschach could take his chances, grabbing some canned food and run back down to the tunnel. No. Not a smart move. Will be caught. The footsteps are down in the kitchen now. Something is placed down on the table. Cabinets are being opened. The fridge. It’s time to leave.

But he doesn’t want to. Yes, he does. No, he doesn’t.

Maybe the pain and exhaustion loosened Rorschach’s restraint, could be the excuse he tells himself later. Body betraying his usual code, Rorschach walks up the steps and opens the door.

*****

“Rorschach?”

[mariacallous]

The record-breaking floods that left one-third of Pakistan under water have also submerged its already sinking balance sheet. The government estimates it needs more than $40 billion to rebuild from the torrential, deadly rains that began in June and killed over 1,700 people. But while international aid has begun to trickle in, the global north has no plans to freeze Pakistan’s billions of dollars in debt obligations.

Pakistan owes $22 billion in foreign debt payments over the next year to the International Monetary Fund (IMF), China, the World Bank, and other public lenders. Pakistan has contributed less than 0.5 percent of historic emissions yet is among the top 10 countries most affected by climate change, according to Germanwatch’s Climate Risk Index, seen with the country’s severely worsened weather disasters like the recent floods. That’s led many citizens of the former British colony to feel echoes of historic injustice as the world’s top emitters—which are also their creditors—refuse to put debt cancellation on the agenda.

A growing chorus of Pakistani public figures, including influential former Senate chairman Mian Raza Rabbani, are demanding the world waive Pakistan’s debt as a form of direct climate reparations. The government, however, has been cautious. “We’re not asking about reparations,” Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif recently said, pushing back on calls made by his own climate minister. Pakistan’s new finance minister, Ishaq Dar, has said Pakistan will try to avoid asking Paris Club lending nations for help.

But if Pakistan demands a restructuring or erasure of the debt it owes to wealthy emitters—such as the United States, European Union, and China—on the grounds of climate justice, many experts believe it could set a standard for other vulnerable global south countries seeking relief in an overheating, unequal world. Lower-income countries spend five times more paying debt than they do on climate mitigation and adaptation, the Jubilee Debt Campaign found last year, and extreme weather events are becoming more frequent and more severe.

“We’re in new territory,” said Ahmad Rafay Alam, an environmental lawyer and activist in Lahore, Pakistan. “There’s a 100-kilometer lake in a province in Punjab. The water has no place to drain. There’s no way any country can adapt out of that.”

Pakistan will lead the rotating G-77 coalition of developing countries at next month’s United Nations climate change conference (COP27) in Egypt, where it could insist on discussing loss and damage payments from climate change-caused destruction. “This is clearly loss and damage territory. This isn’t a debate,” Alam added. But the government still has “no clear vision” of what debt write-offs would look like, he said.

Creditors are mostly uninterested in the case for relief. The United States and China recently rolled over some debt, but U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken has told Pakistan it should seek further relief from Beijing, to whom it owes $14.6 billion. The IMF, which holds its annual meetings this week, announced a $1.17 billion bailout package in August, but it has ignored calls to unlock $650 billion in special drawing rights—international reserve assets—or agree to wider debt freezes. The same goes for the World Bank, whose leader made headlines last month by refusing to acknowledge that fossil fuels are warming the planet.

“We have tried everything,” said Malik Amin Aslam, who served as climate minister under former Prime Minister Imran Khan. Pakistan planted billions of trees, proposed initiatives like nature performance bonds, and tried working with the World Bank on lending based on climate policy, but of those efforts, “none of them has really matured,” he said. “The climate crisis has totally matured.”

Still, the United States has forcefully opposed accords establishing loss-and-damage mechanisms, and the European Union won’t back a climate damage fund at COP27. Aslam said as climate minister, Pakistan “always found a closed door” when discussing loss and damage with developed nations. In the wake of the floods, world leaders like U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres have made convincing pleas for help. “But that’s where it ends, unfortunately,” Aslam said. “What Pakistan needs is solutions, and it needs them urgently.”

“The response has been totally predictable,” said Patrick Bigger, research director at the Climate and Community Project and co-author of a report that advocates debt justice as a form of climate reparations. When Sri Lanka defaulted last year and Ecuador and Zambia before that, its creditors forced them to get IMF emergency funding and cut public spending, leaving them with slimmer budgets to alleviate poverty and combat droughts and flash floods. With Pakistan, they’re “following the same playbook,” Bigger said.

Before Pakistan’s floods, the idea of debt forgiveness for climate change has mostly been kicked around in left-wing circles, evolving from debt resistance by socialist governments in Cuba and Bolivia. That might be changing. “It’s interesting that reparations is [an idea] that’s resonating in Pakistan,” Bigger said, and the expanding discourse around them could add “growing momentum” to more maximalist approaches toward canceling debt.

Bigger argues there’s a real economic argument for wiping out debt—and there are existing models that are successful. The Heavily Indebted Poor Countries Initiative, which began in 1996, wiped out more than $70 billion in debt held by 37 developing countries, allowing them to spend more on poverty reduction. That program had “genuinely positive social and fiscal impacts” on participating countries, Bigger said, though it didn’t “alleviate the structural dimensions that create indebtedness in the first place”—and now, the climate crisis has saddled even more countries with massive adaptation costs.

There are other methods. The IMF could automatically suspend debt payments of countries that suffer climate disasters, Bigger said. Global lenders can attach climate-related conditions to debt relief, which prevents corrupt politicians from pilfering money meant for mitigation projects. And Paris Club lenders have used debt swaps to save failing economies, such as when lenders allowed struggling Latin American countries to convert their bank loans to bonds. “Maybe these sort-of sophisticated debt-swapping tools can be used,” Alam said. “I don’t think a global superpower like the United States needs a nuclear country to go destitute.”

Asking Pakistan to seek help from Beijing could also be dangerous. Washington’s ties to Islamabad have eroded in the past decade, leaving its reputation among Pakistanis in tatters. Playing hardball with debt repayment would only push Pakistan and other global south nations closer to China and Russia, harming Washington’s security goals and creating room for insurgent anti-West populists and Islamist movements.

Khan, Pakistan’s populist former prime minister, is deeply skeptical of global lending institutions and could leverage public anger to fuel his ongoing bid to retake power. And while China’s lending “has been problematic,” Bigger said, they were “much better actors” than most Western governments and private lenders in considering debt suspension.

At last week’s IMF meeting, global leaders blamed China for slowing relief in countries struggling to repay their debts, but as long as they’re forced to pay billions of dollars to the nations whose emissions caused their floods, many Pakistanis are not fond of either power. “I can shoot myself in the foot, or I can cut my pinky finger off,” Alam said.

And refusing to forgive the debt of Pakistan contributes directly to the suffering of millions of people, who face food and water shortages and a growing health emergency, said Ishak Soomro, a journalist and research associate who’s been on the ground in the affected areas of Pakistan’s Sindh province.

Many villages have no potable water, Soomro said, and more people are beginning to contract waterborne diseases. Millions of people are still living on roadsides, without shelter, as winter approaches. Schools are being taught out of tents. “We’re paying debt with dollars,” he said. “And we don’t have any dollars to rebuild our country.”

[spield]

journey to i - kakasaku

Author’s Notes: This has been in my google docs for so long, I’ve forgotten all about it. I low-key panicked when I couldn’t find it my files hahaha. But here it is. Not much romance, but more of... hmm, you tell me what you think it is in your comments! ;) 

Disclaimer: As I’ve said before, sometimes I just write to get things out THEN edit it after. This is the case for this one. Will probably edit this soon though! 

In the end, when Sasuke asks, Sakura says no. 

She takes his lone hand, kisses his palm and whispers why she can’t. 

Sasuke doesn’t understand but he sees the longing in her green eyes, and ah, that he understands. So he pokes her forehead, just above her seal, and hopes they meet on the road and promises a cup of tea. 

She doesn’t linger to watch him leave. Instead, the moment he turns his back, she turns hers too. One feet in front of the other, she walks through the paths of her village, through the market and takes a few turns and goes inside the Hokage tower. 

In less than an hour, Sakura files her indefinite leave with a promise to assist, help and support members of the Shinobi Alliance on her way but with no promise when she’ll come back.

Kakashi is outside when she steps out, no signs of his hat and coat but with his trademark slouch present. He must’ve jumped through the window, Sakura thinks amusedly. Somehow, even through everything, under the fading light, he still looks untouchable. Perhaps, especially now. “You going somewhere?” 

“You just approved my papers.” Sakura smiles, waving the scroll in front of him. “You know where I’m going.” 

Kakashi’s dark eyes - eyes, how odd - are unreadable as he says, “No. No, I don’t.” 

There’s much left to say, but years of cowardice and hiding are not easy habits to break. So Sakura heads home, and is gone before the sunrise. 

At the end of it all, Sakura goes on a journey to retrace her own family’s history. Beyond Konoha, beyond the Land of Fire and beyond the world of the shinobi. 

Because before Sakura was the Fifth’s Apprentice, before she was The Scorpion Killer and way before she was the leftovers of an old genin team, Sakura was a Haruno. 

And all Haruno go back to the sea. 

She left Konoha with just one bag filled with colorful clothes that she never got to wear. Clothes that her mother and father gifted her year after year, holiday after holiday, even when she couldn’t wear them. Not in the village of leaves, not when they smell of the sea even if they’ve never touched it. 

So, Haruno Sakura goes home. 

This is what Sakura tells the Godaime, the Rokudaime and anyone who asks. 

(This is what she tells herself, however, in the end, it’s still heartbreak that leads her away from Konoha. When she meets Sasuke for tea, she hopes they could talk about how Konoha broke their hearts in the way it never did to Naruto.)

All questions are quelled by a calling, by the vast distance, beyond the greens of different trees and blues of different seas tug at her heartstrings, whispering, “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.” 

Sakura circumnavigates the world and through her journey, she meets a monk, a lover and a heathen.

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs. From what she’d gathered throughout her years of friendship with Kankuro, they were pretty lenient to whatever gods their shinobi choose to worship. 

“Maybe, you know, except for another Rabbit Goddess,” Kankuro backtracked, fingers uncoordinated and stiff from fighting, trying to balance a sake cup. It was the first time they’ve seen each other after the war, on the tails still of victory and defeat. High off it. “Yup, maybe not another Rabbit Goddess, maybe not Jashin either - everything else, fair game.”

“Faith is an interesting reprieve from the terrors of life.” Gaara said, righting his brother up with his sand. His teal eyes are fond and warm, and new. His gourd is nowhere to be seen and he looks so young for a man who led their army.  “We let people have their gods.” 

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs, or rather, they’re known for not being known for it but still, it’s where Sakura meets the monk. 

Suna welcomes her with open arms because the sands may be forever shifting, but it never forgets. It remembers her as that 15 year old prodigy who saved their Kazekage’s brother, that 19, 20 and 21 year old who performed miracles in the battlefield with eyes fierce and elbows deep in people’s guts. Suna loves her for what she represents - grit, dirt and kindness honed by the cruelty of the world. 

(Abandoned. That’s what Suna and Sakura had in common.)

Sometimes, Sakura wishes she could see what they see too. 

Now, she’s 23 years old. Two years after the war and she’s still so tired. 

In Suna, she’s given free reign of the hospital. Overseeing their developments in prosthesis, their puppet corps turned into experts of the field. She supposes Sasori would be rolling in his grave at the thought of how his notes revolutionized the entire field of artificial limbs - if he had a grave that is. 

(Sasori was a brilliant man. Mad, yes, but brilliant - and aren’t the brilliant ones always are?)

When Sakura lessens her healing and caseload citing more hands-on training for the Suna medics, Gaara doesn’t ask. She’s still brilliant with her lectures and demonstration and nobody dares to question the greatest healer of the nations. 

It is on the first day of her sixth month when she sees the monk. There’s some sort of blessing ceremony to be done to the new ward of the hospital. The Kazekage’s invited the religious leaders of Suna to bless the place. 

Several came, all with different garments and different rituals. One came with water from a blessed oasis, all barefooted and with hair reaching up to the backs of their knees. They spoke a language she’s never heard, words running over like water over rocks in a bubbling stream. Another came in traditional Suna garments, and sprinkled sand over the white tiles of the new ward - under the setting sun, it looked like fairy dust and gold. 

Many came and went, but one remained still at the outskirts of the crowd, quiet and familiar.

“It’s the first time he’s gone out in public since Chiyo-baa-sama’s death,” Kankuro shrugged when Sakura asked. “He’s kind of particular and all that.” 

It isn’t until the sun dips down the horizon that the monk steps forward. At this point there aren’t anyone left but Gaara and Sakura but nevertheless, they receive no acknowledgement from the stooping man. 

He’s quiet, as he bleeds his chakra to the floor and down every grain of sand in the ward. It always amazes Sakura how chakra lives in non-combatants - a proof that it exists beyond duty. And proof that it can, perhaps, one day exist only for beauty. 

“Do you think he takes confessions?” Sakura whispers. Gaara’s lips quirk upwards, knowing that she knows the difference between a priest and a monk and yet indulges her. “Perhaps. If he does, let me know.”  They’ve all got sins to unload, Sakura muses. And yet, despite being weighed down by all the choices she’s made and been forced to make, it’s not what spills from her mouth when she finds the monk a week after. 

Or rather, he finds her. Coughing, old and sitting on her table. 

There’s something about him, lungs barely holding on and yet still at peace, old age running lines on his face that had her saying, confessing - “I believe I am lost.” 

The monk pauses, eyes torn away from the window and gravitating towards her face. Sakura doesn’t expect a response, after all, he hasn’t said a word to anyone for years. But, he shakes his naked head and offers her a smile, “Nothing is ever really lost.”

That night, she receives a missive from Konoha, like she’s been receiving for the past eleven months but this time, there are two of them. One is a response to the report she wrote about the progress of her study in prosthetics and the other, the other smelling of home and written in a piece of old weathered paper. It almost makes her smile.  Mr. Ukki misses you. 

Sakura doesn’t stay long after that. She fears that if she stays so near to home, its voice will overpower her roots’, and the sea has been waiting for her since she was born. 

She bids Suna goodbye after a year of staying within its walls. She hugs Kankuro tightly, hold Temari’s hand and kisses Gaara’s cheek. 

The Kazekage blushes underneath his hat and Kankuro jibes, “Well, if this is what farewell feels like, then you should say goodbye more often.” 

For months, Sakura moves from town to town, village to village. Occasionally receiving scrolls from Konoha, asking her to lend assistance to a new ally or an old enemy.

It’s funny, how a great military power apologizes for its sins. Never acknowledging it, never calling it reparations, preferring the term “aid” when it only ever is leverage. 

How odd. 

How hypocritical. 

(Sometimes, Sakura wonders if Uchiha Itachi was truly a loyal ninja of Konoha or if he was yet just another blinded soldier searching for idealism in a corrupted system. Was he a victim, truly? A hero? A martyr? To what end? For whom?) 

In her bones, Sakura feels time slipping faster and faster, and despite these emerging thoughts, she wonders if spring has begun in Konoha. 

She claims her free tea from Sasuke at a small town on the border of Iwakagure and Takigakure, almost half a year after she left Suna - two years into her journey. 

“You need a haircut, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura greets and watches in satisfaction as the hobo-looking man looks up to her as she sits in front of him. His hair has grown longer, covering part of his face, finally succumbing to gravity and bidding the duck-butt style goodbye. 

“Sakura.”

There’s something in the way Sasuke speaks her name. When they were kids, it’s always with dismissal and when they went on, it’s with a tone of chained fondness. During the war, it’s with disdain turned acknowledgement. 

When they were in Konoha, Sakura could swear that she could hear pride in Sasuke’s voice, hidden behind the syllables of her name. 

Here, he calls her with surprise melting into relief. Perhaps, being alone has taken a toll to her wayward teammate. 

(Here’s the difference between the two: Sasuke is looking and running from something, Sakura knows where she’s going. Whether or not she’s running or looking too is irrelevant.) (Kind of.)

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura smiles and waves a waitress down, “Fancy a cup of tea with me?” 

Sasuke nods, his lips tugging upward. His dark eyes linger on the spider silk strands of her hair against the orange setting sun.  Her hair’s grown longer, almost as long as when they were genin. 

For a short moment, he’s filled with dread, struggling to remember what young Sakura looked like. He’s starting to forget, perhaps, and it is both a blessing and a punishment. 

The shadows shift and stretch under the guidance of the setting sun, and they exchange stories of the road until the moon nudges the sun to rest. 

It’s funny how easy they fall into bed together, right after tea. 

Sakura’s childhood dreams featured more of a courtship, a promise and a marriage. Teenage Sakura’s fantasy featured more heated kisses, a fight and a leveling of a forest in rage turned lust. 

But this, this is so much better. 

Sasuke touches her with surprising gentleness and want, after they trip their way to his accommodations. There’s a softness in the firm kisses of his mouth, a tremble playing at the edge of his fingertips. It’s not a battle, or a dance but rather an introduction. A hello followed by oh... gods, yes, there -- 

Sasuke makes it good, despite only having one arm, it must be an Uchiha thing to be so good at everything, Sakura thinks as she lay beside her former team mate. 

In a different life, perhaps, she would’ve married Sasuke, she thinks as she watches his lashes flutter as he sleeps. Perhaps, she would’ve give him a child, a girl with his eyes and her hair. A pink-haired Uchiha. But this is not that lifetime. 

Instead, Sakura meets Sasuke again - or perhaps for the very first time - as a lover. Washed anew by his journey, Sakura gets to know her former teammate as a man who can reel out moans and gasps from her, who can, after they decided to travel together for a while, and will start a fire to keep her warm and will tease her about her love affair when he reads Kakashi’s letter over her shoulder.  “Was he the reason why you didn’t come with me?” Sasuke asks. They’re in the Land of Snow, farther from where Sakura really aims to go, but she’s got time to spare and Sasuke might actually be killed by the Raikage if he’s found shuffling around near their country without an escort.  Sakura glances at the words written on the wrinkled parchment (Naruto’s taking classes with Shikamaru. Lots of reading for him to do. He tried using Kage Bunshin to study and knocked himself out. Time is of the essence, he said, and I agree.) and pinches that flicker of hope budding in her chest. 

She shrugs at Sasuke’s question, “I think... I think I wouldn’t have gone with you even without him in the picture.”  Something sad flickers in Sasuke’s eyes before it’s gone, “And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.” 

In the frigid cold of the snow, Sasuke moves against Sakura as an apology and a goodbye. It’s more than comrades sharing warmth but less than lovers making love. At the back of Sakura’s mind, she wonders if Kakashi knows - if he’s angry or if, like always, he understands.  (She misses him, even when they’ve never had each other like this. But the intimacy of sex is trumped by the intimacy in battle, in handling each other with precious care, scars and blood be damned. It is an intimacy borne of desperation, fostered by respect, watered with fondness -- and killed out of love. She misses him, but time is of the essence.) 

Sasuke and Sakura split up at the outskirts of the Land of Stone at the start of her third year of travelling. He went East, she went West and that was that. A few days in, Sakura enters Asakura.  Asakura is the city of heathens - prostitutions, gambling, and underground dealing. It’s the city of sin, which means, it’s also the land of base instincts and humanity stripped to its bare bones. 

It seems like a city just right up her shishou’s alley. Sakura only had to follow the sounds of bellowing, of bodies of men flying out of tavern, and murmurs about a (beautiful but) crazy bitch burning through her own money to find Tsunade. 

News of another jinchuuriki kage reaches her ears too, but she brushes it away.  It’s been three years since she last saw her shishou and in the dim lights of the tavern, she’s glad to see her as youthful as ever, and tries to erase the image of her wan, old, and dying. 

It is only after Tsunade wins that Sakura approaches with a bottle of sake on hand. 

Glancing down at the large money of pot she just won, Tsunade’s heart pounds hard looking at the girl she broke and trained and broke again until she remade herself - her daughter in all but name - and chokes, joking, “Are you dying?”

When her girl smiles, all calm and accepting, and raises a bottle of the most expensive sake Tsunade ever tasted, something inside the old Senju crumbles.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Oh Sakura, what have you done?”

Tsunade’s hands are shaking, the fading glow of her uselessness mocking her in the darkness of Sakura’s rented room. 

“Everything, shishou. I’ve done everything. I’ve read every book, prayed to every god--”

“God? What good is a god?”  

Initially, Tsunade refuses to let her go. Forces Sakura to stay put with the same glint in her eyes when she taught the kid how to dodge, but it seemed the Slug Princess taught her too well. 

Because after the barbs, sarcasm and nights of getting way too drunk off the pots of money Tsunade continues to win, Sakura says goodbye. 

And Tsunade, not as bitter as she would’ve been, lets her go, and curses the gods for not taking her instead - because hasn’t she witnessed to many deaths already? 

It’s at the fourth year of her journey does Sakura finally lays her eyes on the blue of seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands. The calling is silent now that she’s come. 

She sheds her old life -  her headband, her gloves and her boots and brings out the vibrantly colored fabrics from her parents. It’s silk against her pinkened skin, and the sand is warm against her feet. 

It feels like a hug and a song of - “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Kakashi writes to her and Sakura doesn’t answer with a letter of her own. 

Instead, she sends Kakashi eel that she herself smoked, a small vial of pink sand and a kiss on a card.

That night, she dances under the moonlight like a flickering moth around the pyre she built. 

The oceans sings for her and she is home. 

After that, there’s no more letters from Konoha. 

In the middle of the fourth year of her journey and the year mark of her semi-permanent residence by the seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands, Ino visits her. Ino, with her platinum blond hair arrives, still beautiful even with sweat dripping off her.

It takes three days of sunbathing, flower weaving and rebuilding of an old friendship before Ino asks her to come home.

“Haven’t you been away for far too long?” Ino asks, quiet and grown. The days of high-pitch screams and name-calling seems so far away from this little shack by the sea, in this little life her best friend built for herself. 

They’ve spoken of their friends - Naruto’s marriage, Shikamaru’s courtship fo Temari, Ino’s love with Sai and they laughed like bells but Ino didn’t find an ounce of longing in her friend’s eyes, and she already knew she has lost. 

Sakura looks to the shore, there’s a storm coming and hums, “Perhaps.” 

The last letter she receives from Konoha is not a letter at all.

It’s a missive, an invitation - for the Rokudaime’s retirement and the Nanadaime’s ascension.

“God? What good is a god?” 

Who knows? For believers, gods are good for much but--

Because Sakura is not a reincarnation of a god, when she touched Kaguya with her fist glowing green and blue, Sakura touched something not human.

And it touched her back. 

A year into the peace, it rooted deep inside her bones, a poison of the gods against humans brave and stupid enough to lay hands on them. 

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to understand her predicament. She was rotting inside out. Her chakra is poisoning her organs, taking bits off her little by little and so she left Konoha. In leaving, she left what was blossoming between her and Kakashi too in hopes that perhaps she could spare him from this pain.  

But also, she left for this: the sea, the calling and the sand under her feet, and the presence drawing near. 

On the last day of her journey, five years after she left, with her life force draining and yet stretching still - holding on, waiting, the Rokudaime, Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu, her lover, her love - arrives on the shores of this little island west of Whirlpool. 

He is older, of course he is. But still, Sakura runs towards him and he, mask pulled down, feet bare and eyes warm - finally free-, takes the last step and meets her halfway. (There’s still much left to say, but they’ve had years of dealing with cowardice and hiding that they’re laughingly easy habits to break.) 

[arlingtonpark]

SNK 134 Review

Thank you. Thank you so much. This means so much to me.

(Ofc this chapter is called “In the Depths of Despair.”)

Sigh.

So, I guess I have to have an opinion on this chapter now.

For a while there, it looked like SNK had made the right choice.

Eren was the asshole. He was insubordinate, ungrateful, uncooperative, and above all else, a fucking sociopath. Cool, got it. One and done.

But then his friends started talking about how it was really their fault he’s doing this.

Ok, that’s fine. They’re desperate to stop him, so they’re just saying whatever they think will ingratiate themselves with Eren and help talk him down. Dynamics like that are very common in abusive relationships.

Now we arrive at this chapter, where even random people are saying Eren is a victim *as he is murdering them!*

It is patently absurd that Eren is having a warranted or natural or reasonable reaction to what he’s been through.

If Eren were a better person, he would have known that mass murder against the Eldians was wrong because mass murder is wrong. Unfortunately, Eren is a fundamentally amoral person. The only moral compass he has to guide him is a childish belief in “you hit me, so I get to hit you.”

He’s said as much on multiple occasions. He has said, “If someone tries to take my freedom away, I will take their freedom away.”

Instead of being the better man and ending the killing, his solution was to kill more people than them, faster and on a larger scale.

I think the clearest picture of Eren’s worldview was given when he spoke to Historia. He said the only way to end the cycle of violence was to destroy the whole world.

That is Eren’s deeply felt belief: there can be no peace or coexistence; the only way to win is to be the last man standing.

This mindset is so natural to him that he will even kill his friends for opposing him.

He told them that they were free to oppose him, and he was free to fight back. That’s how he justifies killing them to himself. They have the choice to oppose him, so if he fights back and kills them, it’s their fault they died, not his, because they could have made the choice to flee and live, but decided to stand and die.

In reality, the alliance is fulfilling a moral duty to protect life, while Eren is an asshole who has killed billions.

The series wasn’t kind to Eren about that. He was depicted as a cheering child as he murdered everyone. The Rumbling was not white washed either. The take away was obviously that Eren’s decision was not the product of a sound mind.

And yet.

Now I have to wonder if the series is seriously trying to say the Rumbling embodies some form of justice.

There are multiple layers to this issue, so let’s start at the surface level.

So in what is obviously a ham-fisted attempt by Isayama to lecture the audience about morality, a Random Commander Guy filibusters about the ills cast by the Marleyans on the Eldians and how this has rebounded back at them.

It is generally considered good writing for characters to get their just desserts. If someone sells drugs to kids, you expect something bad to happen to them. If someone helps a kid cross the street, you expect something good to happen to them.

What’s different between a generic case of just desserts in a story and this chapter in SNK is that the dessert is typically delivered through some nebulous, karmic force, rather than a vengeful twerp with God-like powers.

When the drug dealer’s car blows up, it’s karmic fate, not revenge.

The car doesn’t blow up because one of the kids devoted his life to exacting revenge, it’s because the car just blows up for no reason, or because something completely unrelated to the dealer causes a bomb to be planted in the car, or the dealer brought it on themselves by getting caught up with terrorists.

People may or may not deserve to suffer, but it’s fine to show people suffering if you’re just trying to make a point about how people should act.

Eren’s a different case. For several reasons.

To help untangle why, let’s think about the death penalty.

The death penalty is an example of retributive justice. Put simply, it’s the idea that retribution can be morally just.

The Rumbling is immoral precisely because it is something a supporter of retributive justice would emphatically NOT support.

Most supporters of the death penalty would justify it as an act by a legitimate societal authority. Eren is not that.

Eren is not an authority figure. He does not speak for the Eldian people and has no right to exact this genocide on their behalf. No one made him King of the Eldians. It’s not his place to decide what’s in the Eldian’s best interest.

Also, killing people because “it’s what the scumbag deserves” is usually justified because it’s a sentence for a crime handed down in a legal process.

Rights can be taken away, but not arbitrarily. Transparency is an important part of this. Acts that are a crime are public knowledge, as well as the prescribed punishments. The criminal law is also supposed to apply to everyone equally, not selectively. To say nothing of the law itself being duly enacted by a legitimate governmental authority.

The same principles apply to the process by which a right is taken away. The process must be laid out in a law that was duly enacted by a legitimate government authority, applies to everyone, and is publicly known.

Eren’s process, of *fucking* course, is nothing like this. Eren has no legitimate authority. He’s a Guy With an Opinion who bumbled into attaining absolute power, and now he’s acting on that Opinion.

He not the government punishing a convict. He’s a guy with a gun shooting people he doesn’t like. The Rumbling is not just retribution, it’s just murder.

Commander Guy says that if they knew this would happen, they would have acted differently.

That’s a good point.

Why the fuck do they deserve to die, then?

To some extent, everyone’s worse impulses are kept in check by the knowledge that there will be consequences if they act rashly.

But it’s not just that.

Laws are public knowledge for a reason: it’s fair. If you know your act is a crime and that performing said act will result in a certain punishment, then by committing the act anyway you have tacitly accepted whatever punishment will be meted out.

The moral onus is placed on you.

This is why knowledge that you are committing a crime is necessary to be convicted of a crime.

In principle, the case with the Marleyans is the same. Is it fair to punish someone for an act they did not know would carry that punishment? No.

They may know the act was immoral, but that is not the same thing as knowing it will lead directly to their death.

And needless to say, but you only deserve to be punished for an act if you deserve to be punished for that act. The Marleyans do not deserve to be punished for that act.

There are multiple ways a wrong can be righted. There are punitive ways, in which the perpetrator is harmed outright. There are also restorative ways, in which the victim is compensated for the harm done to them, usually at the expense of the perpetrator.

I have already explained why Eren lacks the authority to pass judgement on the world, and that the process by which he made his decision was completely illegitimate, but it needs to be said that this punishment is totally improper in itself.

Wiping out humanity is purely punitive. To use the obvious analogy, I don’t think any sane person would argue white people deserve to be punished for racism. Supporters of racial justice usually talk about restorative, rather than punitive, forms of justice, like reparations.

The Rumbling does not make the Eldians whole again. It does not restore their trampled dignity. It is purely an act of vengeance.

Casting it as some kind of deserving retribution is crazy.

Oh, and, you know, suffering is bad, so retributive justice is wrong even disregarding everything I just said.

You could theoretically believe life is a miracle, but that people forfeit that right if they act wrongly…it’s not something many people would support.

If Dino!Eren had been depicted as a random force of nature that visited ruination upon humanity, we could have potentially gotten a good story about how hatred leads to no good outcomes. Like how Godzilla is a metaphor for the ills of nuclear weapons.

Instead we get a nihilistic tale about two sides punching each other until one keels over dead. And somehow the one that keels over deserved it.

What makes it nihilistic is that you could easily reverse it. What if right before Eren destroys Fort Salta, aliens invade the Earth and help the Marleyans.

Now the Eldians are on the verge of annihilation and *Eldian* Commander Guy gets his turn to say “Woe is us who surrendered to hate. We deserve this.”

There is no right side or wrong side. No deserving side or innocent side. The Eldians were cheering for genocide the same as the Marleyans. The difference is the Eldians had a God on their side.

The morality of this series is just all over the place.

The Alliance and Eren are equally sinful, but now Eren is an agent of karmic destiny and his victims “deserve it.”

There isn’t much to talk about this chapter besides that.

Armin still hopes to take Eren alive, but good luck with that.

Eren can manifest other titans from his body, which is cool I guess, though it’s pretty clear this power only exists to give the Alliance things to fight.

There were a lot of allusions to parenthood this chapter. The baby and the cliff. Reiner’s mom realizing how shitty she’s been. Historia’s pregnancy. The Commander Guy saying it’s the fault of “us adults.” The numerous shots emphasizing the kids at Fort Salta.

Child abuse is a common theme of SNK. And not just parental abuse, but societal abuse, too. Children are the victims of individual foibles and broader social ills, like racism and police brutality.

The cycle of violence at the heart of the series’ conflict is bad for everyone, but the story emphasizes that it is bad for children in particular. It harms them, and leads to a world that is worse off for them.

If there’s one takeaway from SNK, it’s that we should think of the children. Adults shouldn’t just take care of their kids, they should fix broader social issues, if not for themselves then for the children’s sake.

It’s a fucking insult.

Historia’s pregnancy is all but confirmed here. There’s no way it’s fake. There may have been motive to fake being pregnant, but there is no fucking way she’d have a reason to fake *birth*.

I always leaned towards the pregnancy being real, so that didn’t get to me. What gets me is that Historia is just…there. On Paradis. On the sidelines.

Not only was Historia, who is the only likable female character in this show now, impregnated, she’s also been MIA most the last two story arcs.

I had thought Isayama was saving her for the finale. Surely, Isayama understands that if you sideline a major character for no reason, they have to come into play at some point, I thought. Surely.

Characters are tools; they exist to be used. So use them.

But no, it seems Historia is legit not going to be a thing in this final battle. My dreams of the domineering boss saving the day are dashed.

But what really messes with me is how shafted Historia has been since basically the end of the Uprising Arc.

Historia’s only contribution to the plot after Uprising, but before the pregnancy was making the disastrous decision to make the truth of the world public, which paved the way for Paradis society to become radicalized and back Eren’s coup.

She has done nothing other than that.

Obviously her pregnancy will have thematic importance, but at this point the best Historia stans can hope for is that she’s the main character in the epilogue.

I’ve always assumed the pregnancy was the product of a loving relationship. For all his incompetence with Historia, I was willing to assume Isayama would not force her to carry a forcibly impregnated child to term.

And you know that even if the child is the product of rape, Historia will still have to say she loves and accepts them as her child and will raise them lovingly, with no regard or acknowledgement of the trauma of having to raise a child born out of her being raped.

Because the theme of the story.

All life is a miracle.

All children deserve to be loved.

Even if it was rape.

Except it’s more complicated than that, and I’m terrified to think that Isayama may not understand that.

So for now, I choose to presume that Historia is pregnant because she loves someone, decided to have a family with them, and we’re being led to believe she was raped for shock value.

But arguably more important is what this means for the queer audience.

Historia’s first love interest was another woman.

She’s queer. A lesbian. A dyke. What have you.

Now you’re telling me she either loves a man, or was not only raped, but has to love and accept the child that results from that trauma?

And for what?

So we can end the manga on a speech by Historia moralizing about the value of posterity?

Historia stands at the nexus of two subjects in this manga: the value of posterity and the denigration of queer people.

It is very homophobic of this series to pair a queer character with a dude to affirm a message about the value of children and motherhood.

As if queer people can’t have children.

We seem to be headed down that path.

It didn’t have to be like this.

Queer people can have children through artificial insemination. And artificial insemination is conceivable with Paradis’ current level of technological development.

Isayama is choosing to do this because queer people are not a part of his vision of a world where people, especially children, are able to live free.

That’s very sad, because it shows how empty SNK’s morals are.

So who’s the slave here?

Who here is truly free?

The ones who are free are the ones who aren’t reading Attack on Titan anymore.

[thisisgraceunderpressure]

Guilt and the evasion of guilt

"Whereas Freud commonly associates guilt with the self-directed aggression of the punitive superego and invariably equates unconscious guilt with the unconscious need for punishment expressed in patterns of self-torment and self-sabotage, Klein views guilt as what Winnicott called “the capacity for concern,” the depressive anxiety that our hate may damage or destroy the good object and self.

Writers in the Kleinian tradition have addressed the ways in which self-torment, rather than being a manifestation of guilt, serves as a defence against it. As a guilt-substitute, the unconscious need for punishment should not be conflated with the guilt it evades. As depressive anxiety or concern for the object, guilt is a manifestation of attachment and love (Eros) and motivates the desire to make reparation. In contrast, the unconscious need for punishment involves the persecutory anxiety and shame characterizing the paranoid-schizoid position and is a manifestation of narcissism and hate (Thanatos).

Freud equates the unconscious need for punishment expressed in patterns of self-torment and self-sabotage that result from retroflected aggression with an unconscious sense of guilt, which operates in people’s lives without any accompanying consciousness of guilt.

Since Freud assumes that selfpunishing behaviour is driven by and a manifestation of guilt, and since conscious guilt is absent, he postulates the existence of unconscious guilt, equating this with the unconscious need for punishment...[H]e continues to use these terms and concepts interchangeably, with the consequence that the role of self-punishment in the evasion of guilt, rather than as an expression of it, has been obscured.

...equating the need for punishment with guilt obscures the defensive function of self-torment (whatever additional functions it may perform) in the evasion of guilt.

In the present essay I am not concerned with the question of whether the sense of guilt may be unconscious (I believe it can be), but rather with the misleading equation of guilt, conscious or unconscious, with the need for punishment .

Although, in theory, Klein follows Freud in his association of guilt with self-punishment, her actual descriptions of the depressive position reflect a different conception of guilt as the subject’s depressive anxiety that his or her hate may have damaged or destroyed the good object (and/ or the good self), leading to efforts at reparation. Here guilt is conceived not as self-directed hate, the punitive superego, but as what Winnicott called “the capacity for concern.”

As a guilt-substitute, the unconscious need for punishment should not be conflated with the guilt it evades. Far from representing genuine guilt, concern, and the drive toward reparation, such self-persecution results from fixation in or regression to paranoid-schizoid dynamics: it represents an inability to bear and a defence against depressive anxiety and, therefore, should not be referred to as guilt at all.

...Safa-Gerard (1998) points out that whereas Freud saw fear of the superego as motivating an unconscious need for punishment as expiation, “within the Kleinian framework guilt is a ‘marker’ of development signaling a capacity for concern for the object” that “typically initiates reparative efforts toward the external as well as the internal object” (p. 352). But because she associates such concern with conscious guilt, she conceives of defences against such concern as resulting in unconscious guilt: “The person may attempt to restore the object or manically defend against an acknowledgement of his or her attacks on it. When guilt is short-circuited in this defensive way, it remains unconscious and has various consequences” (p. 352).

Those who seek to soothe the patient’s superego—to “de-guilt” patients by suggesting they have nothing to feel guilty about—fail to realize that what they are dealing with is usually not guilt at all, but only the pseudo-guilt of self-torment. In addition, they fail to recognize that self-torment always has its real or imagined unconscious grounds that must be brought to consciousness and worked through.

...to refer to this unconscious superego judgment and the self-punitive activity that results from it as guilt, rather than guilt-evading self-torment, obscures the fact that it generally forecloses the experience of depressive anxiety or concern for the object and the resulting drive to make reparation.

Unconscious selfpunitive activity is narcissistic. Authentic guilt moves beyond narcissism toward object love. It only leads to theoretical confusion when we employ the same term to refer to such different realities

Ironically, one of the best defences against genuine guilt (concern) is the mobilization of painful “guilt” feelings, the pseudo-guilt in which pangs of “conscience” replace acts of conscience—that is, acts of reparation as distinct from orgies of self-tormenting, pseudo-guilt feeling.

Frequently, when the unconscious superego judges us guilty, we evade feeling guilty by going directly to self-punishment. Unfortunately, evading guilt feeling in this way precludes the rational evaluation of such guilt that would enable us to decide whether to accept and make reparation for it, or reject it as irrational and ungrounded.

... guilt is evidence of love: the awareness of such love threatens narcissistic, schizoid, and pseudo-psychopathic patients by bringing to their attention their separateness, love, and consequent dependency and vulnerability.

Genuine guilt, understood as depressive anxiety or concern, is not a product of the punitive superego but of the “loving and beloved superego” fuelled not by hatred but by love.

I am defining guilt in terms of its consequences. By its fruits you shall know it. If it results in reparation toward the object, it is guilt. If it results in self-torment, it is not."

Carveth, Donald L. "Self-punishment as Guilt Evasion." The Still Small Voice (2018). Print.

(sequence adapted, emphasis added)

[firebrands]

Omg congrats on 500!!! Love your content :) For a prompt, could you do Bucky/Tony where Bucky takes him dancing and shows him some of those smooth 40s moves. (Bonus points if he dips Tony + kisses him) :) thank you!!

hi anon, sorry this took 50 million years for me to fill. I hope you like it!

Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes; T; 900+ words

***

It’s a testament to the leaps and bounds they’d made in terms of public acceptance that Bucky is in the gala with Tony tonight. His Russian certainly helps with the foreign dignitaries in attendance, and Tony witnesses first-hand all the suave and easy charm Bucky had that Steve had bragged to Tony about.

Their eyes meet over the crowd of people and Tony throws Bucky a reassuring smile; for once, he didn’t regret drawing the short straw for attending a formal dinner, because it meant spending time with him.

Tony’s standing by the bar when Bucky sidles up to him.

“What’s buzzin’ through that big brain of yours?” He asks, before taking a sip of his whiskey.

Tony shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. “You look good tonight, is all,” he says, smiling a little.

Bucky huffs our a laugh. “You clean up pretty well, too, doll.”

Tony absolutely does not blush. Anyone who says so will be met with a swift and clean death.

Bucky smirks at Tony, but it turns into a frown as a woman approaches Tony to strike up a conversation. She’s talking Tony’s ear off about reparations and Tony desperately wants to get out of the conversation when the band strikes up an old Ella Fitzgerlald tune.

Bucky touches Tony’s wrist to get his attention.

“Awfully sorry, ma’am,” he says, his smile all sincere regret, “but Tony owes me a dance.”

Tony opens his mouth to rebuff him—Tony Stark does not owe anyone a dance, in fact, he is the one owed dances by a long line of attractive people, thank you very much, but Bucky levels him with a look and Tony turns to the woman and says, “he’s right, I’m so sorry, let me find you after this song.”

The woman smiles gracefully at them and nods her assent, and Tony—Tony lets himself be swept away, Bucky’s metal hand wrapped gently around his as he leads Tony to the dance floor.

Tony involuntarily sucks in a breath as Bucky twirls him into his embrace, easily settling his hand on Tony’s lower back and raising their joined hands. Tony bites back a smile as he lays his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky whispers, smiling like the fiend that he is.

Tony does not giggle. He doesn’t.

They sway slowly to the music, silent for a moment as the singer croons. Tony can’t help but be overwhelmed by Bucky, the cologne he’s wearing, the fit of his suit, the way his hair is smoothed back, and how there’s already a hint of stubble on his jaw.

Bucky smirks at Tony when he catches Tony appraising him, and Tony huffs out a laugh, trying to cover it up. He expects himself to be better at this—this meaning flirting, it should be second nature, and it is, really, except it’s Bucky, so it isn’t. Tony hasn’t had to work this hard to charm off someone’s pants in a long time, but he’s up to the challenge.

“Like what I’m selling?” Bucky drawls, pulling Tony a fraction closer to him.

Tony thinks that he deserves an award for remaining upright for this performance, because the way that Bucky is looking at him so intensely would make a lesser man melt.

Tony leans in close and whispers into Bucky’s ear: “what’s it gonna cost me?” He’s is sure he doesn’t imagine the small tremor that runs down Bucky’s body, and he smiles, satisfied with himself. They’ve been playing this game for a while now, and something’s got to give.

Tony hopes, mostly due to his pride, that it isn’t going to be him.

“Dunno, Stark,” Bucky says, turning his head a little so they’re pressed cheek to cheek as they sway to the music, “how about dinner and a movie?”

Tony’s smile widens, even if he knows Bucky can’t see it. He fights down the urge to kiss Bucky’s neck.

“Didn’t peg you as a cheap date, Barnes.”

Bucky’s holding him so close that they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip. Tony can feel Bucky’s breath against his jaw, and it would be so easy to turn his head and brush his lips against Bucky’s cheek—

Bucky chuckles. “I’m not. But I know you’d make it worth my while.”

The music swells, and it’s only because of the hundreds of dance classes that Maria forced him to take that Tony doesn’t trip over himself when Bucky pushes him into a spin, pulls him back into his arms, and then honest to god dips Tony.

Tony feels time stretch out while he’s in Bucky’s arms like this, their faces close together. Tony can see a bit of Bucky’s hair coming loose and falling over his eyes, and feels his lips mirror the soft smile on Bucky’s face. The music, the crowd, everything else seems so far away, and when did Tony Stark ever get dipped? Tony did the dipping.

So maybe his pride is to blame for the next bit, the part where he moves his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to Bucky’s nape and pulls him in for a kiss.

They don’t break their kiss as they right themselves up, and there’s a little thrill that rolls up Tony’s spine when he registers the hush that’s settled over the room.

He pulls away and smirks at the shocked look on Bucky’s face.

“There’s more where that came from, if you want it,” Tony says, smoothing down the front of his jacket and adjusting Bucky’s tie.

Bucky regains his composure and smiles wolfishly at Tony. “Well are you gonna kiss me some more in front of these people or are you gonna give me a private show?”