#woke culture warrior

[midnight-soulless-system]

"This book, this agenda, the entire Project 2025 is a plan to unite the conservative movement and the American people against elite rule and woke culture warriors."

-Project 2025

Reblog if you're a woke culture warrior.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Nov 11, 2022

For John Milton, death was not the end of his troubles. He spent his final years blind and disgraced, in continual fear of execution by the state. As a fervent republican who had written tracts defending regicide, the restoration of the monarchy in 1660 left his legacy in a precarious position. Denied a place in Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey, he was instead interred in the humbler environs of St. Giles Cripplegate. Then, to make matters worse, a little over a century later his corpse was exhumed and mutilated.

Likely inspired by the anti-republican wave that followed the French Revolution, Milton’s resurrectionists tore away pieces of his jawbone, his teeth, and his remaining locks of hair, possibly selling them on as souvenirs. The poet William Cowper was so outraged that he wrote “Stanzas on the late indecent liberties taken with the remains of the great Milton”. To say that these vandals were “taking liberties” is something of an understatement.

St Giles Cripplegate is a small gothic church, one of the few medieval churches lucky enough to survive both the Great Fire of London and the Blitz. It is located at the heart of the Barbican, whose charmless brutalist architecture makes for quite the incongruous backdrop. Few people visit the church today, even though John Bunyan was a parishioner, Oliver Cromwell was married here, and Shakespeare lived just around the corner. It is one of the city’s many overlooked gems.

When I was teaching English Literature at the City of London School for Girls, one of the key texts was Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667). Given its author was buried less than 30 metres from my classroom, I would take my students to the church as part of their course. They would be able to see the nondescript plaque on the floor by the altar which simply reads: “Near this spot was buried John Milton author of Paradise Lost born 1608 — died 1674”. This is quite the contrast to the elaborate marble memorial in Westminster Abbey erected in 1737, with a likeness of the poet sculpted by John Michael Rysbrack.

That the author of the most significant epic poem in the English language should have been condemned to such an ignominious end is a reminder that the fate of heretics is rarely pleasant. Milton was a free-thinker whose worldview was grounded in reason. At a time when the divine right of kings was rarely contested, Milton considered it unreasonable that a man should be king on the basis of an accident of birth. He believed in meritocracy, which is partly what drew him to Cromwell.

Milton had his inconsistencies. He was a profoundly religious man, but nonetheless wrote extensively about the right to divorce. Most remarkably, his puritanical strain was at odds with his eschewal of the Calvinist notion of predestination. For Milton, free will was an essential aspect of our humanity. The fall of man depicted in Paradise Lost is meaningless unless Adam and Eve have chosen freely to partake of the forbidden fruit.

But Milton’s commitment to individual liberty is most keenly expressed in his Areopagitica (1644), a counterblast to the Licensing Order of June 1643, which decreed that all printed texts be passed before a censor in advance of publication. Often cited as a defence of press freedom, the text carries resonance for us at a time when liberalism and free speech is increasingly under threat. Rarely has the case been made with greater elegance and clarity. “Give me the liberty,” he writes, “to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties”.

Of course, Milton’s conceptualisation of “liberty” differs significantly from ours. His was a specifically Christian notion of liberty, predicated on this idea of virtuous self-regulation. He was at pains to distinguish between what he called “licence”, the freedom to do whatever one desires, and “liberty”, by which the faithful man is called to purge those passions and temptations that enslave the soul. “Licence”, Milton contends, is no freedom at all, but an indulgence that amounts to a form of self-imposed tyranny.

Amid all this, Milton is adamant that we are not the merest marionettes, guided by divine providence, but individual agents with responsibility and choice. The act of censorship, he argues, deprives us of our right to determine for ourselves how best to conduct our lives. He makes the case that censorship might begin with good intentions, but that subjective judgement will always blur the line between the heretical and the distasteful. As he puts it in Areopagitica, censors do not “stay in matters heretical” but “any subject that is not to their palate”.

We see evidence of this in today’s “hate speech” laws, which vary markedly from country to country. In 2012, the European Court of Human Rights concluded that there “is no universally accepted definition of the expression ‘hate speech’” and a manual published by Unesco in 2015 accepted that “the possibility of reaching a universally shared definition seems unlikely”. With the concept of “hate” remaining forever nebulous, how can any government possibly hope to legislate against it?

Last week, the Irish government passed the Incitement to Violence or Hatred and Hate Offences Bill, with the minister for justice Helen McEntee uttering the usual shibboleth that “hate speech is not about free speech”. The Government claims that the Bill will “protect genuine freedom of expression”, a justification reminiscent of Scotland’s former justice secretary Humza Yousaf, who asserted that the SNP’s recent Hate Crime and Public Order Bill “does not undermine free speech”, but rather “protects it”. It’s anyone’s guess how a Bill that could see those guilty of “insulting” behaviour imprisoned for seven years, and criminalises statements uttered in the privacy of citizens’ own homes, could in any way be considered a “protection” of civil liberties.

Those responsible for such misguided legislation ought to read their Milton. Their intentions may be compassionate, but the dangers of limiting the scope of individual conscience ought to be clear by now. In any case, isn’t hate an inevitable human feeling, and should law enforcement agencies really be attempting to audit our emotions? And what if the person making the decision about what constitutes “hate” is wrong? As Juvenal has it, quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

History does not look fondly on the hubris of those who appoint themselves as arbiters of permissible speech and thought; their authority is only ever contingent on the wisdom of their time. “How shall the licencers themselves be confided in,” writes Milton, “unless we can confer upon them, or they assume to themselves above all others in the land, the grace of infallibility and uncorruptedness?” John Stuart Mill made a similar point in On Liberty (1859). “All silencing of discussion,” he wrote, “is an assumption of infallibility”.

Milton reminds us to retain our trust in humanity’s capacity for reason. We have convinced ourselves that we exist in an age of “fake news”, but the concept is hardly unprecedented. Milton saw the struggle between Truth and Falsehood as perpetual, and envisaged them as antagonists on a battlefield. “Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?” It isn’t so much that “fake news” is unique to the digital age, but rather that we appear to have lost our faith in our ability to make the stronger case.

It is Milton’s contention that we are far better placed to know and overcome evil if we are acquainted with its essence, and censorship deprives us of this opportunity. Censorship, he maintains, is tantamount to a repudiation of the human spirit. This is why he reserves particular scorn for the destruction of books. We have learnt to laugh off the antics of activists who burn copies of J.K. Rowling’s novels and post the footage online, but, to Milton, this is akin to a form of homicide, “whereof the execution ends not in the slaying of an elemental life, but strikes at that ethereal and fifth essence, the breath of reason itself”. The man who burns a book, he tells us, “slays an immortality rather than a life”.

And yet, Milton leaves himself wide open to accusations of hypocrisy. Areopagitica is a polemic against licensers and the way in which they stymie the possibility of individual choice, but he was to become a censor for the Commonwealth five years after its publication. He was an elitist whose emphasis on liberty certainly did not extend to Catholics. His final written work, the polemical tract Of True Religion (1673), railed against the “growth of popery” and exhorted the public to “beware the growth of this Romish weed”.

While this may strike us inconsistent, to Milton it was the logical progression of his principles. Milton perceived the Catholic Church to be a weapon against freedom, a belief that was surely consolidated by his tour of Europe in the late 1630s. Milton claimed to have met the ageing Galileo in Florence, who at the time was under house arrest by the Inquisition; he had fallen foul of the “hate speech” laws of the Holy See.

I recently spoke on Milton at Gonville and Caius College in Cambridge, where only the week before protesters had attempted to silence the journalist Helen Joyce. The master of the college had hardly helped matters, by emailing all students and staff in advance to smear her work as “offensive, insulting and hateful”. This seems very much at odds with the college’s statement on freedom of speech: “An active speaker programme is fundamental to the academic and other activities of the College and Fellows, staff and students are encouraged to invite a wide range of speakers and to engage critically but courteously with them.”

Of course, disparities between an institution’s official statements and its actual behaviour are nothing new, particularly when there has been a degree of ideological capture. Nonetheless, there is cause for optimism. The treatment of Helen Joyce has backfired, with a number of influential college alumni now considering withdrawing donations. Professor Arif Ahmed, who organised the talks by Helen Joyce and myself, has no intention of surrendering to pressure from above. And next week, the Cambridge Union will be hosting UnHerd‘s Kathleen Stock, whose gender-critical views saw her subjected to a campaign of harassment at Sussex.

For all these little victories, culture warriors will no doubt persist in their efforts to see the Overton Window narrowed to the dimensions of a porthole. This is why the sentiments of Milton strike us as more potent than ever. His defence of free speech will always retain its power where the free exchange of ideas is assailed by increasingly shrill demands to conform.

==

Freedom of speech has always been the mechanism by which change occurs and society progresses. Stifling freedom of speech has always been the mechanism by which those with power preserve it.

Which tells you everything you need to know about who has it.

[monicascot]

Non Binary Is the Most Holy Of Gender Identities | Woke Up

Data Analysis Expert Kiyah Willis was brainwashed at an elite east coast university. The data that is favorable for transitioning is considered good and other data that is not so favorable is considered biased or racist.

[bookishdidi]

Graphs don't lie!

Art by schetroschky (Tumblr) | schetroschky (Instagram)

One of the first things I woke up to yesterday was a post downplaying Gwyn and Emerie’s importance, and honestly? I couldn't just scroll past that. Like, let’s not forget these are two of the only three women to ever take part in (and win!) the Blood Rite—a historic achievement, especially considering the efforts by Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys to create programs encouraging female warriors in Illyria, which are often met with resistance due to deep-rooted cultural stigma. Emerie is the first Illyrian woman to achieve the status of Carynthian, and Gwyn, once confined by her fears as a priestess in the library, overcame them to become a formidable warrior on the battlefield. These two are flipping the script, smashing norms, and inspiring a whole new wave of badass women. So yeah, their impact is anything but minor.

And because I love to nerd out, I brought graphs! I crunched the numbers on how often Gwyn and Emerie get mentioned in ACOSF compared to other 'relevant' characters. This is just to give us a clearer picture of how much these two queens actually show up in the story they're a part of.

Note: I'm only considering the main books: 1, 2, 3, and 4. I'm not including Rhys, Feyre, or Tamlin, as I consider them main characters. Also, I’m excluding the number of mentions for Nesta and Cassian in ACOSF.

This graph shows the highest number of times each character’s name was mentioned in a single book, highlighting where they had the most frequent presence.

Since ACOSF is the longest book, it might seem like Gwyn and Emerie being mentioned more often than other characters is just due to its length. But even when accounting for this, they still top the list.

This graph shows the percentage of the maximum times each character’s name is mentioned in a single book compared to the total word count of that book.

So keep yapping. Gwyn and Emerie aren't just important and relevant to the plot; they have significant screen time.

My conclusion is...

Here is all the data I collected:

And a few more graphics in case it's something you're interested in:

[sodomyaspraxis]

the fact that transhumanism got looped into the “woke agenda” by reactionary culture warriors is still so wild to me

[todd-machine]

They won't define it, except for when it pertains to queer folk. Interesting that.

hey gang, in the event of project 2025 coming about, make sure to archive media that will literally be illegal if it were to happen.

ARCHIVE

ARCHIVE

ARCHIVE

Please for the love of god archive

Now WHY should you archive? Well…

according to page 36-37 of project 2025 it states the following

To quote, “P*rnography should be outlawed. The people who produce and distribute it should be imprisoned. Educators and public librarians who purvey it should be classed as registered sex offenders. And telecommunications and technology firms that facilitate its spread should be shuttered”

ok…well what constitutes as p*rn? The answer is

THEY DONT GIVE ONE

so please archive media

[aq2003]

the thing that gets me the most about culture warrior weebs going "the anime designs for the greek gods are so much better than the woke leftist designs in hades" is that they are simultaneously the ones actively getting mad at hermes being east asian in the game. like they want to fetishize asian aesthetics so bad bc they cant let go of their oversexualized anime waifus but the minute an asian person actually gets depicted they lose their fucking minds

[yawntu]

Tsyeym

A/N: Yo I thought I posted this last night, took shrooms. Finally just woke back up came and checked and was like no way no one has interacted w this fic and then realized i never pressed post. Rotxo deserves more love so I decided in a little fic for him. Switch x Switch couples are just my cup of tea. This is not my fav but I am a sucker for love and romance. It’s grammarly proofread but not beta read 🤭 (might be looking for another beta reader)

pairing(s): Rotxo x f!Reader, platonic!Ao’nung x f!Reader (briefly)

word count: ~8k

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Size kink, stomach bulge, face sitting(f!receiving), Cunnalingus, Cumswaping maybe?, Spit, he’s a messy eater you can’t tell me otherwise, beach sex, Jealous!Rotxo, he’s just so sweet and pretty, Unprotected, love taps on your butt, “girl” is used, it’s pretty soft for the most part, he’s obsessed and def a simp

na’vi glossary: sayrìp : handsome, skxawng : moron, tsyeym : treasure / precious

Playfully scrapping had become increasingly popular amongst your friend group since you had been introduced to each other's cultures all those years ago. It was commonplace to play amongst yourselves. Just earlier in the evening you and Ao’nung had just almost spoiled your dinner by shoving each other's faces into the sand after a slap-boxing horseplay over some crustacean turned into a rather enthralling spar that had both of your fathers rooting for and coaching from an imagined sideline (and mothers who were doing more yelling and hooting in excitement then offering tactical advice).

Rotxo had even watched in amusement as it seemed Ao’nung had succeeded in neutralizing you with a knee on your back. Unfortunately, Ao’nung had been a fool and got off of you to turn to his father with a grin. It took you only seconds for you to contort yourself into a crouch and launch yourself into the back of his legs sending him forward onto his knees. His shock gave you enough time to maneuver both of your palms onto the back of his head and dramatically push his face right down into the sand,

“That is for punching me,”

And Rotxo couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at the fact that your pretty thighs straddle his best friend's back. Or the fact that jealousy grew into a painful lump in his throat when Ao’nungs arm hooks behind him to support your frame as he almost barrel rolls half onto his back to pin your thigh under his body and halt your assault with a laugh.

All your family and friends are laughing at the two of you, and your mothers coo as they watch you wipe sand off of Ao’nungs face. Rotxo couldn’t stop the bitter resentment that bubbled in his chest at the sight. He hated feeling this way. He hated the way you made him feel not quite like himself.

Which is why he does his very best at keeping it hidden. Not that it’s hard for him to forget the resentment he feels for you the second you give him your attention. Even only hours after the disgusting display of affection with his best friend. When you kindly ask him to accompany you on a walk he can’t even think about how upset he had been. Even now while your chiding voice disrupts the peacefulness of your walk and the beauty of the light beginning to set over the reef.

“You’re mad because I will not spar with you?”

He cuts off your words. The duck of the young warrior's head, so he could speak to you face to face as you walked down the beach only insults you more. Had he been on the side closest to the soft waves you’d have no doubt shoved him onto his ass into the assaulting water. Obviously that is what you were angry about-

“Is it because I cheat when I fight Ao’nung? If he is so stupid as to keep turning his back on me after all this time then he is at fault,”

You sound genuinely confused as you try desperately to make sense of why Rotxo would rough house with Lo’ak or Neteyam and even Kiri but not you. It’s funny how conceited you sound even as you’re practically bouncing next to him and pestering him like a bug. Rotxo knew a little better than most though regarding the inner workings of your mind. It wasn’t that you were conceited- you were just stupidly confident. He didn’t doubt, however, that one way or another your small frame would beat him simply because he knew you wouldn’t dare give up until you did.

“Besides the fact that I vividly remember when you bit Tinangey in the cheek,” Rotxo try’s to defend his unwillingness to hit you with an annunciation to his story by holding two of his second knuckles to the apex of your cobalt cheek. Long, thick fingers curled against your glowy skin. The same place you had bitten the longed-haired, round-faced, barely tolerable boy all those years ago when you fought. Though in your defense Ao’nung and the group of boys had started a very real fight, and you had only followed in your brother's shadow of retribution.

“And I happen to hit much harder than Ao’nung does,” he adds.

For a second, Rotxo feels like he exudes your same confidence. It’s not an unwarranted comment, however. Ao’nung was less than a head taller than him, but Rotxo had grown into quite an impressive specimen. Wide and as immovable as the waves that crashed outside of the reef you do not venture past. That was more than half the reason why you wanted to spar with the Talioang of a man so terribly.

“You are no fun,”

He can’t help but frown at your words. He knows you aren’t serious- would you spend as much time with him if you did not find entertainment in him? The same insecurity that causes resentment to bubble in his stomach rears its ugly head once more. For a second he feels like he could believe that you had been aware of how he felt and that you used him for validation.

“You should be more thankful to me,” he chides, baring his fangs slightly in a half grinned snarl, “that I refuse to knock any more brain cells out of you,”

You complain he doesn’t horseplay with you the way the others do, but at this moment he organically wraps one palm around the back of your head to pull you into him slightly, so he could cruelly rub his knuckles against the crown of your head.

Because he does roughhouse with you. Rotxo always played with you. Was always there to entertain you because the idea of other men wrapping their hands around the pliable flesh of your flowing form made the ugliest parts of him surface. If it wasn’t Rotxo entertaining you it was your siblings or his best friend. As he had not made any formal claim towards you out of his nerves, unfortunately, had to tolerate it regarding his future Olo'eyktan.

You’re just a terrible little cretin that found delight in the chaos you left in your wake. It’s why you, Lo’ak, and Kiri get into so much trouble. It’s why you poked at Ao’nung. He can swear there’s a part of you that does it just to cause strife in his heart.

He can’t be bothered with pondering over the legitimacy of his accusation partially out of fear that he’s projecting, and perhaps you are just like Ao’nung. Though mostly it’s because of course you are swatting your delicate little hand at him and grumbling about how you’re smarter than him and that he was the stupid one to think otherwise.

It’s endearing how you walk backward as the two of you playfully bicker and fight. Though like always- Rotxo is catching your intended slaps and redirecting your arms to swoop past him. Sometimes even grabbing at your forearms so you can’t help but be pulled around haphazardly by him.

“You are so fucking annoying,”

Your shriek comes as Rotxo almost effortlessly maneuvered you to spin forward and walk ahead of him, while he pinned your arms across your chest. You both stumble over each other's feet as you can’t help but laugh over the fact that he’s made your arms an effective straight jacket. You wiggle and writhe and it halts his walking while you try to dig your heel into the top of his foot. It only results in one of your wrists being let go of and you being spun around like a toy by him.

He had half let you stumble while he used the momentum of your arms to spin you, but he was quick to grab hold of your other wrist, propping you right up.

You were out of breath from the game but you were thankful for the view he presented you with. The violets and oranges of sunset suited the aquamarine of his skin. Dancing between the intricate tidal markings on his body, and forcing your eyes to dance across the defined arms, chest, and neck that were covered in bold black lines. You feel a little silly, being so flustered before him with your whole face purpled. You can help it because he looks pretty at the moment. Absolutely beautiful like always. Like no one you had ever seen before.

Rotxo is quick to heave you up in the air and shake you around. Ruining the view that had just begun to calm you down. Riling you into hysteric laughter while playing with you as if you weighed nothing. You shake in his arms and toss your body around like a mad-woman and you’re cackling just like one.

When he begins to feel merciful you land on your feet, with his arms still pining your hands and arms against your ribs that are rapidly rising and falling. With the welcomed breaths you instantly go back to chastising him.

“That is not sparring, fish-boy! You were just being an imbecile.”

You’re snapping an arm fee so you can poke him in the chest. He can’t help but roll his eyes at your attempt and take your hand to lightly ‘smack’ your face with it.

“You are ridiculous,”

He tried to emphasize his words with a similar assault by your other hand but you offered resistance,

“If you just took me seriously I-“ you’re cut off as you struggle to keep him from playfully making you hit yourself. Thrashing your head around wildly. And he’s just laughing above you because he thinks it’s stupid that you assume he just thinks you can’t fight and that’s why he won’t spar with you. For Eywas sake he watches you win regularly.

It’s like you could read his mind without tsaheylu and the mention of your victories emboldened you. He hadn’t even noticed your leg raise to wrap around his locked knee leisurely supporting his weight while he tormented you.

He had buckled backward under the weight of his massive frame embarrassingly quickly. You had expected him to let go of your wrists as he fell, but he did not. Opting to drag you down into the sand with him.

He tries to control the mauve that dances across his skin but this is the reason he didn’t spar with you. He can tell himself it’s because he hates seeing you get hit, and that his heart breaks and chokes him any time he thinks about striking you even in that situation.

He knows however, it’s because he can’t be this close to you. He can already feel his ears perking up towards you and his eyes relaxing while he stares up at you. How pretty. Your sapphire skin was dazzling under the cool violets and dwindling oranges of an almost completely set sun. The stars had even begun to twinkle behind you between the other shining moons.

“You are the worst,” your pants finally die down, to match your soft glare,

“Is that so?” His cheeks dimple as he grins wildly up at you as you adjust to straddle his chest more comfortably.

“Yes. I swing at you and you don’t even try to hit me back.”

And there’s another attitude laced plop to his chest. More follow as you use said pops to enunciate your following words,

“You just toss me around like I am useless and cannot fight! You know I can. Yet you only fight my brothers, how are you meant to get better if you don’t-“

He stops listening to your scoldings. He doesn’t care what you’re saying when his heart beats against your inner thighs. When he can feel the pudge of your hips practically pooling on him begging for him to grab at it. Why couldn’t you connect the dots? Why were you so stupid? He can’t help but laugh at you, there’s even a bit of a bitter snide behind it. Even though he thinks it’s endearing how badly you wanted to prove yourself to him. He cuts you off abruptly,

“Go and fight with Ao’nung,”

And it’s got your pretty siren eyes widening at his words.

“What does he have to do with anything,”

The sight of his sea-foam eyes rolling into the back of his head has your snarl fixed down at him,

“Can’t step on the Olo'eyktan’s toes can I? Huh?”

He has an expression you’ve never seen cross his face before. Not on Rotxo’s. Not the sweet boy who you had spent so much time with,

“What are you talking about, Ro?”

Ro. You dare call him Ro at a time like this. It makes him sit up on in elbow, grabbing at the top of your now elevated thigh,

“What do you mean what am I talking about? Why do you need to spar with me when you can practice with him? Unless it’s just some weird mating thing you guys have going on-”

He’s never seen your face screw up quite like it is now. Red-faced at his accusation not out of embarrassment but out of anger. Angry that he’d made such a brazen accusation. The first outbreak from Rotxo leaves you stumbling over how to answer him, and you notice he looks hurt at your stunned silence.

“Yeah, ‘course that’s what it is. You make it quite obvious-“ and you feel him start to move under you- probably to get up and apologize and tell you you had to walk back to the village now because even with the hurt salted embarrassment he feels now he’d never leave you to walk back alone. Never let you be in danger. You know that and it makes you more upset,

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t make it obvious. I am not your fucking ilu- you do not know what I’m thinking.”

Your left hand reaches for the wrist of the hand that holds your thigh while your right pointer and middle fingers aim down at him accusingly.

“So you have no interest in him?”

Rotxo is speaking faster than usual. A trait you had noticed followed Rotxo anytime he was too hyped up. He was the softest boy you had ever known yet the gentle buzz of adrenaline that leaked out of his too-quick breaths reminded you that he was in fact a Metkayina warrior.

“Mhmm,”

You’re honestly surprised it has taken you this long to notice the mutual affection he had harbored for you. Blinded by your insecurities, the sight of him frantic over the idea of your affection belonging to someone else made you squirm.

“I suppose he would be a fine mate now that you mention it-” and you smile down at him, hoping he knows you’re kidding. That you just don’t know how to talk about your feelings “considering no one else seems to be all that interested in me,”

And you feel him go ridged under you, round eyes fixated on your own. You think he’s annoyed a little bit, staring dumbfounded at you. But you feel his fingers dig into the meat of your thigh.

“Was this your plan? Torment me into doing what you want?”

You don’t know if it’s the chill of the eclipses sea breeze or the fact that Rotxo’s voice was as modulated, deep, and mesmerizing as always, yet his face held the same intense stare that the Metkayina warriors were renowned for. You’re embarrassed at the way you twitch as he props both hands on your thighs and adjusts himself back into laying straight back.

“Nu-uh, but is it working?” And you're purring above him, flicking your tail across his stomach. It only added to the overstimulated feeling throbbing at the front of Rotxo’s skull. An uncomfortable pendulum swinging him between ecstasy at the sight of your pretty form sat on his chest and misery over the fact that he still couldn’t shake the insecurity that you were toying with him.

“No-“ He curses a crack in his voice with a swallow, “I will just stay tormented,”

His hands are warm as they paw at the top of your thighs. He can’t help but feel like he’s on fire at your position, at least the sand was starting to cool in the dark. It helped keep him from sweating below you even as he pants at the sight above him. Your knees are pushed under his arms and nestled against his ribs and he worries you can feel his heart pounding. You made the air hang hot around his head.

You’re nervous at how intense his dusk sullen aqua eyes maintain their contact with you but he doesn’t have a choice- if you scooted up less than a foot you’d be sat right on his face- there’s nothing he’s ever wanted more.

“Lost in thought?”

He cringes at your voice. Not knowing how you always get him like this. How you always have the high ground. He doesn’t know why he’s honest with you,

“I do not want you to fight with Ao’nung like that anymore.”

And you grin at him and place your palm on his cheek,

“Is that so? That means you will spar with me now?”

He couldn’t wrap his head around your obsession with being hurt? Did you pester everyone to fight with you like this? The thought makes his body move on reflex, craning his neck enough to open his mouth wide and comp down onto the exposed skin of your thigh. You bounce on his chest, pulling at his hair back with a whine in response.

“If you are jealous you can just say so you do not have to bite me, you child.”

He can only smile because it’s his hair you’re yanking at. You’re sitting on him and-

“I’m not jealous. Not in this moment anyways,”

One of his hands slides up your hunched forward torso, and he’s pulling you down by the woven fabric of your top. You’re not sure if he’s pulling you down to kiss him. You figure with the state of things though a kiss wasn’t an unwelcome advance, and you’re not surprised when his head lifts to kiss you back.

It’s better than any silly fantasy you had ever let yourself drift into because he’s warm and real and he’s kissing you like you’re fragile because he wants you to feel safe enough to be fragile. He wouldn’t have wasted so much time becoming a competent warrior if it wasn’t to keep you safe.

“How could you think I’d want to share a brain with Ao’nung huh? I’d kill myself.” you smile against his lips, “as if I’d ever want him over you,”

And he knows you’re not lying to him as the fluff of your tail tickles against a throbbing vein in his lower stomach. How could you be lying when you’re hunched over uncomfortably while you straddle him just so you could purr into a kiss? His big hands cradling your cheeks makes you ignore the ache in your spine, and you thank Eywa he’s so big as to add ease to the position.

By some stroke of luck, his hand travels down your spine as if to soothe the ache while your tongues swirled against each other. Despite the trembling ache that plagued your lower stomach at the endearing turn of events, Rotxo kisses you, softly. As if you’re not dying for him. Even though you straddle him his chest and move against him to relieve the pressure he inflicts on you. You’re very obviously making out with him. Willingly letting his mouth explore yours at his own pace. You can’t help but slide down his torso so you could lay on top of him properly.

You couldn’t get over how wide you still had to spread your legs to straddle his waist. Even though you laid over him caging his body under yours he engulfed you. You need to breathe far earlier than he does, and he finds it cute how you huff against his lips to catch your breath.

“You’re not going to let Ao’nung touch you anymore, ya?”

And he can’t help the dopey pitch of his voice as he catches your lips in a quick kiss. Not when you’re beaming down at him.

“Only if you touch me instead,”

You sound so coy considering you’re giggling above him. And when you enunciate your words with another kiss he can’t help the obnoxious chortle that leaves his lips- that’s until you bite at his bottom lip slightly,

“You are too bossy,”

But he kisses you the way you want him to. Pushing his nose against yours. He doesn’t think he can like anything more until he feels your hips grind against the lower abs of his stomach- that tighten and flex at the feeling of your now twitching core.

The confidence the both of you had mutually worked up to had you lost in your own world. You know it’s unbecoming of you both to be caught in such a situation but you had enough confidence in your privacy and even less confidence in your own self-control to do anything about it.

“Sit on my face,” it comes out as a gaspy whisper between your clanking teeth while you grind against him, “Let me take care of you instead,”

It makes you whimper above him and he swears it’s some sort of nirvana.

“I-I’ve never-” and you are mad at how wet the inside of your mouth is and yet it still offers no solace to the lump in your throat

“No’ gonna make you,”

You’re not sure if the sound of him slurring into your mouth makes you moan or the fact that your tail finds and runs across his erect member behind you.

“Obviously want you to,” and his palm is on your cheek, “wanted you on my mouth since you plopped down on me,”

He’s kissing you between his words and you know he means it. You can hear it in his voice. He just about died of excitement when he felt you propping yourself up on your knees.

Now that you’re back up he can admire your pretty body once again. He thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you not take the lead. It made him blush- realizing how shy you had suddenly become. He’s gentle when he reaches for your thigh again, sliding up until his fingers reach the fabric of your tweng,

“Can I?”

You wondered how the sun would rise in the morning when it was trapped in his smile. Looking up at you as if you were Eywa herself. How could he possibly think you don’t want him to untie it?

You don’t know how to say yes without embarrassing yourself, so you do what any rational woman would do when the love of their life was laid between their legs. You reach up to the fabric tie of your beaded top, and let it fall from your body, plopping down in the sand next to you.

You can’t ignore the throb that plagues you at the widening of his eyes, how they instantly drop to your breasts. The only cover from his eyes are the few strands of hair.

You’re almost shocked at his fumbling fingers. Too excited to uncover you and too large for the delicate fabric, yet like all things that required a gentle hand- Rotxo succeeded at his task quickly. Obediently you let his palms guide your hips up. He is rewarded with one more sway of your tail over his quickly hardening length as tosses your bottoms in the opposite direction of your top.

You're breathing heavily when he cranes his neck to look at your most intimate flesh,

“Oh, Eywa,”

He can feel himself leaking all over his stomach at the sight of your bare cunt against his torso, and the warm feeling of you dripping could drive him to madness.

“C’mere, give me you.”

You listen of course. He feels bad that he likes you best like this. Tentatively crawling up his large chest to place your legs on the side of his head.

He doesn’t feel bad for enjoying the view of you hovering above his face. He can’t believe he had done this. He can’t believe you’re swollen, sticky, and wet for him.

His hands are wrapping around the fat of your thighs to pull you into open-mouthed kisses against your thighs. You’re mad it feels so good- he’s not even touched you and yet your thighs twitch where he kisses.

You reward him with a real moan at the quick swipe of his tongue from the bottom of your leaking hole right across your clit. Though he didn’t truly know what he was doing, he knew what he wanted to do. That was enough. You seemed to like what he was doing regardless. He likes kissing you. Feeling the way your lips twitch against his. His tongue finds a comfortable rhythm exploring your folds. You tasted like nothing he had ever eaten before. He couldn’t compare you to anything else- and there wasn’t a thing in Pandora he’d rather in his mouth.

Though you're panting and wiggling your hips in front of his face he still wants to give you more. Wants to wrap his arms around your thighs and take care of you the way you should be taken care of. He doesn’t know why he has such a need to take care of you, especially since you had caused him so much grief. He knows you’re more than willing and capable of handling him mating you without any of this - but he can’t help it. He wants to spoon-feed the world to you; do everything for you. Even if it means doing all the work to get that pretty pussy of yours to cum in his mouth.

His desire to take care of you is probably why one of his big hands finds your hips. Why it slides across your smooth skin and his thumb hooks under your tail to push you down and forward onto his wanting mouth.

“I said sit-” he speaks into your cunt, the vibrations of his voice making you clench your stomach.

He can feel his dick jump at the way you cry at the feeling of him grinding your sensitive pussy against his wanting mouth, legs clamping down against his blood-rushed ears. When he finally slides his tongue into your twitching hole again he can’t help but reach down to squeeze at the base of his throbbing dick. Just for a second, he could pretend you were clamping down on his cock and not his rapidly exploring tongue. You’re too busy following along with the motion Rotxo’s hand around your tail provides for you to notice what he’s doing, however. When you’re so blissed out that you lean back to brace your hands onto his chest he can’t help but take in the sight of your thrown-back head. Your hair was behind you now and he could watch the night sky illuminate the swell of your breasts. He can’t be bothered to feel bad at watching you so vulnerable and unaware when he’s the one to cause it.

With the added space of you leaning off of him slightly, he was able to drag his face across your leaking cunt as if he were a starved animal ripping into a meal.

You feel dirty- for the way your head quickly snaps forwards to watch the way he shakes his head back and forth between your legs. There’s no hiding the mess below you at this point. The twinkling night does little to hide the slick connecting you to him. And you feel yourself leak even worse when his relaxed eyes blink open and he catches you staring at him. When he slows his movements to take in the look on your face.

“Ro- don’t- Rotxo-“

Embarrassment is evident in your voice despite the fact he feels like his face is burning brighter than yours. He can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that you’re sitting on his face, you’re letting him eat you out.

He wraps his lips around his new favorite part of your body, sucking the nerve into his mouth with a cruel pop. Kissing it after you cry out,

“You feelin' good?”

His words are soft, as you feel his thumb caress the underside of your tail. You only try to sit back down on his face with a wiggle of your hips. Rotxo has finally found a happy middle ground where he felt confident with you, however. Gripping your tail tighter to keep your greedy cunt off of his face.

“Answer me,”

And with his words comes a gentle graze of his sharp teeth against the pulsating sticky skin of your clit. He’s never heard you make the noise that responds to his assault. A cry or a hiss he wouldn’t know- but it was his new favorite sound. He’s only licking you- it’s only at the work of his tongue that your legs are shaking so prettily on his cheeks.

“Yes- yes you know I am-“ You start, “can you keep going now?”

It’s the fake polite voice you use that makes him scoff. He finds it endearing how badly you try to grind yourself against him in the same rhythm he had previously helped you with. But with his grip on your tail, and the punishingly slow strokes of his tongue against your slit you stayed bubbling on the edge. You’ve never been so pliable for anyone before, he thinks. He’s never seen you so whiney over anything.

“Rotxo please!”

Your please is a little too mean. It wasn’t you asking him to make you feel good. You were being bossy and rude. Red face screwed up in frustration as if you had still been scolding him for the fact he wouldn’t hit you. Maybe it’s why his other hand leaves your hip for a second to swat at the fat of your ass.

Between you sidling forward onto his face, and the fact that your pretty little tail wagged across his painfully hardened cock he couldn’t help but moan right into you.

The guttural moan of his deep voice sends a shock wave up your body that has one hand digging into the sand next to his head and the other hand pulling at the mess of curls on top of his head. Maybe he understood your annoyance at his stubborn desire to hold back before. Because right now you are doing the same.

All he wanted was for you to cum. So one hand returned to your pretty tail to help you grind your clit against his face. It was cute how you tensed at the feeling of the tip of his fingers that had risen up against the hole that so willingly leaked all over him. You don’t even give him a chance to ask if you’re okay with it before you sink back into his fingers, ruining the kiss Rotxo had just begun assaulting your clit with.

The sight of spit connecting his swollen lips to your cunt, and the feeling of one of his finger reaching deeper in you than you had ever been able to touch makes you tremble above him. He’s rocking you against his face while he begins an almost punishing assault on your hole.

In his defense, he wasn’t truly aware of how punishing the pace was. The only thing he was focused on was the steady ripple of your ass against his knuckles. So blissfully unaware of how much louder your voice had gotten. The wet sound he was greeted with as he slid a second finger inside you only spurred the speed of his hand more.

“I- I… Ro I feel-”

And he feels the tip of your tail softly lay across his aching cock as though to anchor yourself as you arch forward into his face, thighs trembling. He moans at the ache of his scalp as you pull him into you and he can’t help but open his eyes wide.

Eywa is Rotxo glad he did. He knows he’s going to remember this for the rest of his life- the view of your pretty legs choking him in a vice grip and pussy clenching up on his fingers while you practically scream. You don’t listen to yourself though, not when you’re preoccupied with the sound of him slurping against you. As if he’s never enjoyed something more- and he’s smiling against you as he alternates, scraping his teeth against you, and sloppily kissing you though your orgasm. All while his fingers still slowly curl inside of you.

You feel like you should be embarrassed, panting above him- trying to force oxygen into your deprived lungs and brain. He doesn’t make you feel awkward though. Not even for a second. Not while he’s petting your thigh and smiling up at you between his movements.

“You’re alright?”

The hum of his voice was questioning. You couldn’t help that part of you felt as though he was telling you that you were alright though. Maybe that’s why you felt so at ease.

“Better than alright,”

Your coquettish grin has him pawing at your thighs to scoot you back down off of him. Even though he’s never enjoyed doing something more than taking care of you, the feeling of your tail twitching against the tip of his throbbing cock had raised an unfamiliar pain in his stomach. Besides, the sinful sounds you had been making for him; the pretty dazed face had coaxed you into had made him confident enough to not want to be under you any longer.

You instinctually wrap your arms around his neck as you feel him begin to sit himself up. One arm wrapped tightly under your ass (giving himself the luxury of wrapping one of his meaty palms around the meatier fat of your ass) to keep you from sliding down into his lap until he had sat up completely, and could position you comfortably.

You can’t help but smile at how disheveled he looks. His hair is all askew from you yanking at it and his face is completely blushed and wet from all the effort. The way the corners of his lips twitch into a smile by the time your bare slit makes contact with him is almost mischievous in a way. As if he was expecting the gasp that falls from your lips as he drags you down across the tweng that painfully constricts the parts of him that hadn’t hardened out of it. It finally relieves some of the pressure knotting at the pit of his stomach. You could never wrap your mind around how sitting on his lap could be so calming yet intimidating. You can’t help but reach for the sand covered curls at the back of his head pulling desperately to fill the gap the height difference caused. Wanting nothing more than for him to bless you with another kiss.

Of course, he obliges. He doesn’t think he could ever deny you a single thing now. Not when you’re grinding down onto him while kissing him. Dragging the fabric across the both of you, and Eywa when you run your tongue across his lips with a giggle he has to stop himself from cumming between the both of you.

Feeling the way his tip leaks against your belly button has your heart beating so impossibly fast that the rattling it causes in your rib cage hurts.

“We do not have to do anything else,”

He doesn’t want to remind you. He really does not. He wants nothing more than to sink you down onto him- but he doesn’t want you to feel pressured. To feel unsafe. If you had never touched him again he’d have lived happily with this moment like gold in his memory. He thanks Eywa however, when you whine at the insinuation, thread your fingers around his kuru, and your pretty snarl makes contact with his own teeth.

“Don’t make me go and find Ao’nu-”

You don’t even finish your hiss before he swats at your ass again, appreciating the way your skin recoils, and thighs tremble at his sides and for you to yelp into him. How dare you say his name with your hand where it was? Has he been too nice to you these years? Too gentle with you?

“Watch it,”

You had heard Rotxo growl before. Never at you- but you had seen what he was capable of when he did get aggressive with people. Yes, he was a sweet and gentle boy- but he was also rowdy, brawling, and all too bellicose. But because he was normally so saccharine to you, you had forgotten all about the rest of Rotxo. Big, honorable, and strong Rotxo who you had seen slam down elder warriors with years of experience on him like they were weightless. Those same muscular, intricately tattooed arms were now using the fat of your hips and ass to grind you down against him. As if to make up for the cruelty of your words your other hand reaches down, and though you had frustrated him he can’t help but buck his hips into you at the feeling of your hand sliding down the hood of his cock so you could run a thumb across his exposed tip.

“I want you. I thought I was being pretty obvious. Reya makes fun of me for it.”

You don’t know why you whisper to him, you don’t think you had ever been as soft-spoken before.

“I am just stupid-”

And his frustrations leave him at the feeling of your hands loosening around both his hand and kuru. He can’t help but slide his face against yours, slotting his nose against yours. He breaths against your face once before he speaks,

“You are not a stupid girl,” and there’s a kiss placed on your cheek under your eye as one palm raises to cradle the opposite one, “you are at least smart enough to undo a knot, yeah?”

He keeps his usual warm and syrupy baritone voice, yet there’s a condescending undertone to his voice that shoots straight down to your core. It makes your ears flatten against your head, and your eyes widen. He was almost bitter that all it took to intimidate you was to imply he wanted to impale you on his cock. Why did he waste all this time becoming such a revered deep-sea diver and warrior?

“Or are you, pretty girl?”

There’s more jest in his voice; his heart swelling at how cute you were when you weren’t being a menace. So cute in fact that he can’t help but kiss the crown of your head as he watches both of your hands reach down to untie his tweng. He supposes he could have just yanked it down, but he can’t help the rush that flows through him at the sight of you doing it. He swears he’ll ride this high for months- felt like he could fight a nalutsa all by himself.

That’s until he sees you sit up on his knees and realize what you’re going to do- what you want to do. It finally sinks in for him. You want him. Your fingers are on his kuru, your cums on his face- you chose him. Suddenly the sea breeze isn’t enough to keep him from overheating. He’s too aware of the sound of the waves and the sand that covers his back and hair and the fact that-

“Sayrìp,”

His eyes instantly leave your swollen pussy and raise to your face, locking with your eyes obediently. You smile up at him and he’s sure his pupils are as wide as yours.

“Are you okay?”

How can he not be okay when you're kissing his mandible? Teeth teasing against the pulse you’ve risen should drive him to dizzying madness but only acts to ground him back into reality,

“Jus’ cannot believe you’re here with me.”

It gives him a chance to swallow the lump in his throat,

“Who else would I be with, skxawng?”

And you're grasping at the base of him to hold his heavy leaning cock steady; he whines at the sight of your spit drooling past your pretty lips and hisses at the feeling of it plopping against him. He supposes you could use all the help you could get if you hoped to take him.

As you slide the girthy blunt tip against your slit he rewards you with a moan. A deep sound that reverberates against his chest. It makes you all too eager to try and sink down onto the tip.

But Rotxo’s arms are stronger than you and he doesn't want you to do that, so he uses that strength against you. Despite being so giving and nice on the regular, rolling over and letting you boss him around and do what you wanted he was going to mate you the way he wanted to, and you were going to take it.

When the jolt of his hands moving to hold your hips in place makes your pussy flutter against his tip he has to remind himself of that before he loses all of his resolve and pushes you down onto his length in one swift movement. The thought made him cringe. He didn’t waste all this time opening you up for him just to hurt you,

“You going to let me mate you, tsyeym?” He asks

If you think you could roll your eyes without invoking the hunter's wrath you would have. He was acting as though you hadn’t been pulling and tugging on his prettily kept braid since you had first felt his imposing length against you.

“I am not above begging,”

Though you’re chuckling softly in his ear your fingers are dancing down his kuru, and when your finally twirl the ends of his hair covering his tswin around your slender fingers he can’t help but slide just the first couple of inches of him into you. He can’t tell if he feels your fingers caressing his nerves more or the far too-tight ring of your pussy sucking him into you.

“Ma’Rotxo-”

Your free hand braces yourself down on his bicep, digging your fingernails into his flesh as if you’re the one overstimulated.

“Thought you were tough, huh?” He chides, “Wanna fight with me but can’t even take me bullyin’ my cock into ya, huh?”

If you were mean you would have tugged on his braid, giving him a semblance of the perineum sting you felt at the girth of him-

“Don’t be an asshole to me, Rotxo.”

You’re trying to be bossy still and it doesn’t suit the fact that your body feels so pliable in his hands. He doesn’t even dignify you with an answer, not when he wants you to be flush against his hips. Not when he wanted you to feel as much of him as you could before he made you feel even more. He feels a little bad that you’re so small in comparison to the Metkayina people. Though an embarrassing part of him loves the idea of spending the rest of his life drilling into your warmth until you’re molded to him he worries about how sore you’d be in the morning. He promises himself that he’d be extra kind to you tomorrow- tend to anything you could want. He will take care of you as a thank you for the way you were about to let him use you.

You couldn’t think of a time when Rotxo hadn’t taken care of you- this felt no different. So when you feel one of his hands caress you on the mission to reach around your body and pull you apart further so that more of him could slide inside all you do is huff and give into his guidance.

“Look at you,”

He sounds winded at the feeling of you clenching against him. You’re surprised he enters as easily as he does. Surprised the pressure doesn’t hurt as bad as you feared it would. Especially when one of his thumbs moves over your clit in soft quick motions,

“Just gotta relax a lil’ more.”

His eyes are fixed down; watching you take him inside of you. He doesn’t even care anymore that the end of his braid is held in your soft hand. He ignores the uncomfortable throb that shoots through it. He only has to endure seconds more of it before he’s rewarded with the slippery plap of your hips meeting. He feels bigger than ever when your hands leave their respected body parts to grab at his cheeks. He’s sure you meant to kiss him but you only managed to moan against his open mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he kisses you, “Took it all so good.” another kiss,

“Fucking Metkayina- too big,” Of course, you’re grumbling right now. Of course, you have a grumpy little voice even when he’s in your guts.

“You are rude,” one of his arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against him, partially to appreciate your warmth but mostly so he could reach around and grab your own braid.

“Shouldn’t even touch this now, huh?”

His soft eyes give him away, and he knows you know him too well. You know that once you pull his braid over his shoulder that he’d rush to bring yours closer.

You were right of course, he’s quick to hold the bioluminescence of your tswin’s tendrils painfully close to his own. There’s something that makes your stomach tighten painfully at the sight. There was something so exciting about the fact that you were so close to being with him- all you had to do was dip your hand forward. The thought has you rolling your hips down against him to alleviate the throb of your clitoris. It’s all he needs before his other hand leaves your hip to grab your wrist that holds his tswin.

“Look at me,”

You’re so good for him. So obedient when your eyes instantly snap from where your hands almost make you one- to his eyes. He thinks you’re so beautiful. Sultry and warm and so undeniably wild. So easily he gives into the magnetic force that’s been trying to convince him to pull your tswin into his.

He thinks his heart stops at the way your eyes haze over and you melt into him. The way you practically purr as he feels his lap grow wetter. Now you were all of those things- but you were also his.

“Oh, Eywa,”

He feels bad for how roughly his one arm pulls you into him, he feels how much fuller it makes you feel but he has to feel your heartbeat against him. He thinks this is bliss- that he can’t get anything better than this. Then you begin scooting your hips back and forth against his. His hands are too quick to reach for your hair, digging his fingers into it.

The pretty way your face screws up as your pace quickens has him star-struck. The echo of your pleasure tickled his lower stomach. He can’t help but lift his hips to meet yours; the slapping sound of skin as you bounced against him is enough to spur him into near madness. Both of your throats are caught- stunned in silence over the sheer amount of feeling tsaheylu adds.

He feels bad because he knows you feel so good going at your own pace and using him to fill yourself to your heart's content. He can’t focus on that guilt when he has such an uncontrolled need to be on top of you. His hands halting your hips have you confused, and you’re only more shocked when he’s heaving you up and tossing the both of you until your back is against the sand and your hips are hiked on his firm thighs.

He doesn’t even give you a second to take in the change, slipping himself all the way into you in one fluid movement, palms returning to the fat of your hips so he could roll and grind down into you. He loves the way you clench as he rolls across your g-spot. The view is beautiful, and the way your hands reach between your thighs and rub your fingers against yourself for him only drives him further into ecstasy.

“So pretty for me,” He loves how easy it is to make you clench and throb. “My pretty mate,”

His eyes are fixed on the way your breasts bounce at the power of his thrusts and the way your stomach bulges. He knows if he focuses on your pretty face he’d be finished the way your wide eyes don’t focus on anything and the dark purple stain of your blush. He’s never quite seen your markings glow so bright. He’d never live down finishing before he even got a chance to fuck you properly- before he could really appreciate the view. So he grabs at your hips and wiggles you side to side in an effort to stimulate you further,

“Let me fuck you for real now baby,” and his hand travels up your legs that are bent against your bodies, straightening one leg over his shoulder so he could kiss your calf. How could you say no when he asks so sweetly while he was so deep inside of you?

“Please? Can you please move again?”

He forgot you could be so polite when you want to be. He’s all smiles, starting at a comfortable pace. His speed picked up quickly as he could use your whole leg as an anchor, but he still stays relatively shallow. Just to give you enough time to adjust before he picks up a punishing pace.

He knows he’s fucking you entirely too loud. He knows the way you moan under him is entirely too loud. He knows the nighttime waves aren’t loud enough to drown out what he’s doing to you but all it does is spur him on. He wishes you’d be louder but he knows you have more dignity than he does.

How can he slow down when you’re telling him he’s so good? You’re gasping as he falls forward onto one hand for more leverage. Still holding your hips up by one leg so he could slam into you. The change of position has you dragging sinfully across him and it almost distracts you from the sound of his grunts. It was magnifying seeing him worked up over you- he wasn’t even in a rut and had desired you so deeply.

“Gon- Shit. Roxto 'm gonna cum,”

The way he reacted to your words is what sends you over the edge. The way he hunches over and begins to slam into you while his eyes bore into yours. The sloppy sound of you cumming all over him and your eyes rolling into you head bring him closer more than the feeling of you clamping down on his cock. He didn’t think you could squeeze tighter and it’s embarrassing how easy you make him cum. Just barely enough time to slip out and shoot himself all over you.

He means to hit your stomach honestly, expecting it to pool where you had been slightly folded. Except he had forgotten how worked up you had gotten him- how badly he had wanted to cum in you. The sheer amount that painted your warm stomach and azure boobs should have embarrassed him but the sight of his cum shooting further and globbing on your chin and lips consumes him. You lay half folded under him, grasping onto him while you panted. Covered in his cum. No one could get near you without knowing you were his.

He can’t help but act on his desires and lean down to cage his big arms around you. Running his tongue up your chin and across your lips. You taste the salt on his lips when he immediately kisses you, and at the bite of his teeth, you’re opening your mouth so he can spit him into your mouth.

It should be raunchy and make you feel like a whore but he does it so softly and kisses you so libidinously that the swirl of his tongue against yours has you both purring into each other's mouth.

You’re perplexed at how quickly he’s back to sweet Rotxo. Kissing you gently and caressing skin that just knew the punishing grip of his strength.

He’s tall when he sits up on his knees, and now that he’s not hunched over rutting into you it truly dawns on you just how much bigger he is than you.

He scoffs as he looks around him and you’re almost confused until you watch him lean over to grab both of your bottoms before he’s grinning down at you and scooping his hands under you.

His cheeks hurt from smiling at the sound of you giggling foolishly at him as he heaves you into the air. You're both red-faced and covered in sweat and sand and he can’t wait to walk into the cooling water with you in his arms.

[fleshwerks]

Finally, I'm pretty damned unhappy about how the most visible critics of Veilguard are all chud culture warriors fixating on 'wooooooooooooke go broooooooooooke'. Feels like by going in hard on Veilguard, these chuds might think they've found an ally in me. They have not. Not even a little. The problem with Dragon Age is not 'woke', DA has always been 'woke', it has always been extremely political. All of these guys singing praises of DAO seem to have forgotten the absolute riot that took place when Zevran flirted with their male player characters. In a way though, this fuckery is reflected in Veilguard. Veilguard too fixates on what's ultimately inconsequential, and absolutely, utterly refuses to engage with the world at wide. Because it's easier. It's easy to punch one guy instead of taking on the system itself. Culture warrior chuds aren't worried about the system, they're just wanking themselves to completion over a small and easy target. The problem with DA is not 'woke'. The problem is the complete tonal shift and disregard of lore and hooks and issues already established.

And once more for posterity: Dragon Age has never not been political, and it's always been a little or a lottle gay. You're fighting the wrong enemy, chuds. Gay is good.

[jensorensen]

Project 2025

The Project 2025 paragraph about deleting the words "gender" and "reproductive health," etc. from every government document veers straight into Year Zero cultural purge territory:

“The next conservative President must make the institutions of American civil society hard targets for woke culture warriors. This starts with deleting the terms sexual orientation and gender identity (‘SOGI’), diversity, equity, and inclusion (‘DEI’), gender, gender equality, gender equity, gender awareness, gender-sensitive, abortion, reproductive health, reproductive rights, and any other term used to deprive Americans of their First Amendment rights out of every federal rule, agency regulation, contract, grant, regulation, and piece of legislation that exists.”

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[catgirlforeskin]

It’s so funny how everyone’s a culture war guy now, from Putin getting interviewed by Tucker Carlson today, to Taliban fighters being Andrew Tate reply guys on Twitter and complaining about feminism in movies.

Do you think this was always a thing or is this a new type of guy? Like when Putin went “the Russian people are like J K Rowling, because we are being unfairly cancelled by the woke left,” were we always doing this?

Do you think 2000 years ago the Cherusci were going “much like the saint of the Christians, unjustly put upon the cross, I too am being wrongly persecuted for my warrior prowess displayed during the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest”?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Stellantis wants to make scabbing woke

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

I know, I know, it's weird when the worst people you know are right, even when they're right for the wrong reasons: like, the "Intelligence Community" is genuinely terrible, pharma companies are murderous crooks, and Big Tech really does have a dangerous grip on public debate. The swivel-eyed loons have a point, is what I'm saying:

https://locusmag.com/2023/05/commentary-cory-doctorow-the-swivel-eyed-loons-have-a-point/

When conspiratorialists and reactionaries holler about how the FBI are dirty-tricking creeps who are framing Trump, it's tempting to say, "well, if Trumpists hate the FBI, then I will love the FBI. Who cares about COINTELPRO and what they did to Martin Luther King?"

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_suicide_letter

It's a process called "schizmogenesis": forming new group identity beliefs based on saying the opposite of what your enemies say, and as tempting as that is, it's extraordinarily foolish and dangerous:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

It means that canny reactionaries like Steve Bannon can trick you into taking any position merely by taking the opposite one. Bannon's followers are even more easily led, so it's easy for him to convince them that we have always been at war with Oceania. The right has created an entire mirror world of "I know you are but what am I?" politics.

Anti-vax co-opts "bodily autonomy." Climate denial becomes environmentalism ("wind turbines kill birds"). Transphobia becomes feminism ("keep women-only spaces for real women"). Support for strongmen becomes anti-imperialism ("don't feed the war machine in Ukraine"). These are the doppelgangers Naomi Klein warns us against:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

The far right has even managed to co-opt anti-corporate rhetoric. Culture warriors rail against "woke capitalism," insisting that when big businesses take socially progressive positions, it's just empty "virtue signalling." And you know what? They've got a point. Partially.

As with all mirror-world politics, the anti-woke-capitalism shuck is designed to convince low-information right-wing pismires into buying "anti-woke pillows" and demanding the right to pay junk fees to "own the libs":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

But woke capitalism is bullshit. Corporations – profit-maximizing immortal transhuman colony organisms that view workers and customers as inconvenient gut-flora – do not care about social justice. They don't care about anything, except for minimizing compensation for workers while maximizing the risk those workers bear; and locking in and gouging customers for products that are as low-quality as can be profitably sold.

Take DEI, a favored target of the right. It's undoubtably true that diversity, inclusion and equity initiatives have made some inroads on correcting bias in hiring decisions, with the result that companies get better employees who would have been excluded without this explicit corrective.

However, corporations don't value DEI because they abhor their history of hiring bias. Instead, DEI is how corporate management demonstrates to workers that their grievances are best addressed by trusting corporate leadership to correct their error of their ways – and not by forming a union.

Before the passage of the National Labor Relations Act in 1935, corporations would create fake "Company Unions" whose leadership were beholden to the company executives. These were decoy unions: they looked and sounded like unions, but when they negotiated with management, they were actually working for the bosses, not the workers.

This is more mirror-world tactics. They're the labor equivalent of the "crisis pregnancy centers" that masquerade as abortion clinics in order to fool pregnant people and trap them with endless delays until it's too late to terminate their pregnancies. Company unions get workers to trust in negotiators who are secretly working for the bosses, who emerge from the bargaining table with one-sided, abusive contracts and insist that this is the best deal workers can hope for.

Company unions were outlawed 90 years ago, and for decades, labor had a seat at the table, with wages tracking productivity gains and workers getting protection for discrimination, unsafe labor conditions, and wage-theft. Then came the neoliberal turn, and 40 years of wage stagnation, increased inequality, and corporate rule.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Finally, finally, we have reached a turning point in labor, with public approval for unions at levels not seen since the Carter administration and thousands of strikes and protests breaking out across the country:

https://striketracker.ilr.cornell.edu/

It's not just the Writers Guild and SAG-AFTRA, either. For the first time in history, the UAW is striking against all the major automakers, and they are winning:

https://arstechnica.com/cars/2023/10/striking-uaw-workers-win-key-battery-plant-concession-from-general-motors/

The automakers are getting desperate. Stellantis – Chrysler's latest alias, reflecting the company's absorbtion into corporate-human-centipede of global carmakers – has mobilized its DEI programs, trying to get marginalized people to believe that scabbing is a liberatory activity:

https://theintercept.com/2023/10/10/uaw-auto-strike-stellantis/

Stellantis calls each of its DEI silos a "Business Resource Group" (BRG): there's a "Working Parents Network," an "African Ancestry Network," "Asians Connected Together," a "DiverseAbilities Network," a "Gay & Lesbian Alliance" and more:

https://blog.stellantisnorthamerica.com/2021/07/20/business-resource-groups-drive-inclusion-and-diversity/

The corporate managers who lead these BRGs have established a scab rotation for each subgroup, calling on members to cross a UAW picket-line at a Michigan Parts Distribution Center run by Stellantis subsidiary Mopar:

Each BRG will pick a specific day of the week/weekend to volunteer as a team. Help continue to be the RESOURCE the BUSINESS can count on! Stellantis needs your help in running the Parts Distribution Centers (PDC) to ensure a steady supply of parts to our customers while negotiations continue. Working Parents Network has identified Friday, October 13 as WPN’s BRG Day at the PDCs!"

Now, these BRGs weren't invented by marginalized workers facing discrimination in the workplace. They come from literal union-busting playbooks produced by giant "union avoidance" firms that charge bosses millions for advice on skirting – or breaking – the law to keep workplace democracy at bay. All the biggest anti-union consultancies love BRGs, from Littler Mendelson to Jackson Lewis. IRI Strategies touts BRGs as a way to "union-proof" a business by absorbing workers' grievances in a decoy committee that will let them feel listened to.

BRGs, in other words, are the Crisis Pregnancy Centers of workplace discrimination. They're a Big Store Con, a company union dressed up as corporate social responsibility.

Now, let's not pretend that unions have a sterling record on race and gender issues. Giant labor organizations like the AFL had to be dragged into racial integration, and trade unions have sometimes been on the wrong side of anti-immigration panics:

https://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/1997/summer/american-labor-movement.html

But unions have also been the most reliable way for people of color and women to win better workplace treatment. The struggle for racial and gender justice was fought through labor organizing. Remember that MLK's "I've Been To the Mountaintop" speech was given in support of striking sanitation workers in Memphis:

https://www.afscme.org/about/history/mlk/mountaintop

Black organizers have always been militant labor organizers. Labor Day commemorates the victory of the long, hard-fought Pullman strike, where Black workers brought one of the most powerful companies in America to its knees:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pullman_Strike

And women have always fought for gender justice through the labor movement: the New York shirtwaist strike is the Ur-example, when women-led unions fought thugs and scabs on icy New York streets:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_shirtwaist_strike_of_1909

It's no surprise that labor activism, anti-racism and feminism go together. Since the earliest days, the labor justice struggle was also a social justice struggle. To learn more check out Kim Kelly's Fight Like Hell: The Untold History of American Labor:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

The most exploited, underpaid, and abused workers in America are also the most marginalized (duh).

From nurses:

https://www.reuters.com/business/healthcare-pharmaceuticals/kaiser-healthcare-union-says-week-long-strike-possible-early-next-month-2023-10-09/

To teachers:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-04-18/l-a-teachers-win-21-wage-increase-in-new-lausd-contract

To Amazon warehouse workers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazon_Labor_Union

To publishing assistants:

https://apnews.com/article/harpercollins-union-strike-ends-0a94238718879066d9b21af6266be526

To baristas:

https://www.cnn.com/2023/09/29/business/starbucks-union-wages/index.html

To fast-food workers:

https://www.ufcw.org/about/

The vanguard of today's labor surge is Black, brown, female and queer. Without a union, workers who face discrimination are on their own, hoping that their bosses will voluntarily do something about it. Black workers in Tesla's rabidly anti-union shops face vicious racism, from slurs to threats to violence. Without a union, they have to rely on the shifting whims of an Apartheid emerald mine space-Karen for relief, or hope for help from the NLRB or a class-action lawyer:

https://apnews.com/article/tesla-racism-black-lawsuit-class-action-21c88bddf60eca702560be58429495de

The far right isn't wrong when they holler that woke capitalism is bullshit. As with so many of their mirror-world causes, they've got a point, but only a limited one. The problem with woke capitalism is that it's no substitute for a union. The problem with relying on Business Resource Groups to fight racism, sexism, homophobia and transphobia is that these struggles are all class struggles, and a BRG is never going to fight against the company that created it.

To understand how bankrupt woke capitalism is, conside this: Stellantis is calling on its "Working Parents Network" to scab this Friday. Stellantis is also being sanctioned by the Department Of Labor for discriminating against nursing mothers – the same "working parents" that the BRG is meant to protect:

https://www.clickondetroit.com/news/local/2023/02/08/investigation-finds-stellantis-violated-rights-of-nursing-mothers-at-sterling-heights-plant/

Woke capitalism is just another kind of "predatory inclusion," like Intuit's campaign defending its "Free File" tax-prep scam, where they're claiming that ending this ripoff is racist because it denies Black families the right to be tricked into paying for something they are entitled to get for free:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/27/predatory-inclusion/#equal-opportunity-scammers

When I learned about Intuit's wokewashing, I thought I'd found woke capitalism's rock bottom, but I was wrong. Stellantis's call for woke scabbing is a new low.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/11/equal-opportunity-class-war/#inclusive-scabbing

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[monicascot]

Elite University Indoctrinated Me Into The Woke Social Justice Cult | Woke Up

Kiyah Willis was indoctrinated into Critical Social Justice. Being a non-binary black female gave her special status in what she describes this intersectionality as the Olympics of victimization. For years she thought biological sex had no bearing on their gender identification

[lizardsfromspace]

Culture war types chortling that the new Star Wars show is a failure bc it has fire in space is so emblematic of their whole situation. Ignoring the sound in space and the spaceships flying like WWII fighter planes to focus on the unrealism of fire in space. The hyper-focus on minor details. The woke DEI social studies warriors are at it again, claiming Star Wars has always been a mythic science fantasy that knowingly rejects any ties with real science. We should ask everyone mad about this if Star Wars is set in the future or not, for our enrichment

[nebulapaws]

So, I've been in the middle of a few brainrots lately, and I ended up making a Warrior Cats AU for JJBA, because I'm cringe but I'm free 🔥🔥

I ended up with these designs, and a little bit of information for the characters as well :D and...a fic outline, so that's really fun. I happened to have grown up on furry one piece (Warrior Cats) and I'm sure that's. very obvious LMAO, so I had a LOT of fun with designing and writing Something. I also have a buncha extra doodles too, I guess. I have Buccellati and Abbacchio done, too, but I want to make a separate post for them. Feel free to indulge in my autistic rambling below the cut;

I decided to call this series "Stelli Fortuni", and I sorta slapped it somewhere in the middle of Warrior Cats canon--so there's canon warriors here--because I'm not about to make new clans and the story in Warrior Cats is really interesting and I want to play around in it and I've decided to do that through my autistic little lens, ok?

Part 5's arc would take place in the beginning of the Power of Three (Outcast, specifically) and end during Sunrise.

Also, imagine that Link meme--it's my sleepover and I choose the ___ ? yeah, It's my AU and I choose the culture, and I say these cats have traditions because they're a friggen cat society and also they have sexualities and gender too. this is MY au and I say they're WOKE

(For Giorno, I know the art says Goldenwind, but I changed it last minute because I found the new one fits better).

Giorno - Goldenwish (Riverclan) LaPerm

Small and plump curly furred golden tom with turquoise green eyes. He's quiet and always seems poised. Nobody really knows where he came from, just that he appeared one day in Riverclan's camp as a kitten. Leopardstar decided it'd be best to take him in. It certainly didn't escape her notice that he's got the same strange starkissed mark on his shoulder that Silverfish and Shinekit do. That being said, Giorno has an unusual affinity for plant growth and a kinship with nature.

Buccellati - Stickyfig (Riverclan) Egyptian Mau

Large, lithe white tom with small black spots that look like tadpoles. He's wise, thoughtful and always stands tall. Even as an apprentice, he's always proved to be reliable and he's quite well liked through all the clans. That being said, he's got quite the weird side, as well as a caring and fatherly side. He, along with Tigerfoot, Violethaze, Mandarinflight & Houndsight appeared at the lake during a stormy night. Only Leopardstar and Mistyfoot know why they were out in that stormy night. Starclan has gifted Stickyfig with the uncanny ability to cut through almost anything, a power he uses sparingly.

Trish - Softrose (Riverclan) Turkish Van

Slender rose-ginger and white she-cat with soft green eyes. When she's first allowed into the clan, she's quiet and reserved. She only (hesitantly) talked with Stickyfig and Goldenwish, but later she unwinds a little. She won't admit it out loud, but she's unsettled by the idea of a full prophecy--that would end in lives being lost--hinging on her arrival at all. At first, she truly doesn't even want to be in the clan. Along her journey with the rest of the gang, she warms up to them and, by the end, decides to stay in Riverclan. She's been blessed with the ability to soften anything.

Mista - Tigerfoot (Shadowclan) Caracat

Bulky and well-muscled brown tom with a striped backside, tufted ears and muddy brown eyes. He has six toes on both of his large front paws and five on the back. He's also abnormally large for a cat, and his clanmates joke often that he has wildcat blood in him, or that he must be some kind of mountain cat. This actually isn't that far off. The cats he arrived to the clans with were all cats from a backyard breeder that tried to make domestic wildcats--Caracals, Servals Leopard cats, etc. He doesn't like to think too much on it--he's here now, right? He's devoted, loyal, and very lack-a-daisy. He trusts his physical strength more than his cleverness--but that's not to say he's unintelligent, far from it. Unlike Violethaze, he's quite devout in Starclan, believing that they guide his paws and that, as long as he's true, he'll be safe. Lucky, even. While, at first, it might seem like he's the only "chosen" without powers, he can talk to animals directly. He's bonded with six unruly birds.

(Those birds are, if you're curious, Kingfisher, sparrow, bluejay, mourning dove, woodpecker & a european robin).

Fugo - Violethaze (Shadowclan) Silver-spotted f1 Savannah

Sleek, lithe and a little gangly white tom with unusual silver spotting like a leopard's and fiery violet eyes. He's extremely impatient and short tempered--it's a wonder he became a medicine cat at all. That being said, he's incredibly knowledgeable and good with medicine. He's not just knowledgeable on cures, either, he's also quite knowledgeable on poisons and venoms. He's weary and his clanmates think he's quite prickly and hard to get along with, but Tigerfoot thinks he's the funniest person ever to annoy. His biggest secret is that he has the ability to control illness and disease, which is why he'd such a good medicine cat. He can give what he takes away.

Narancia - Mandarinflight (Thunderclan) American curl

Medium sized calico tabby top with an orange face, tufted and curled ears, and wide and bright violet eyes. He's energetic and passionate, and fiercely skilled as both a warrior and a scout. Out of the band of unique looking cats, he's the one who could pass The Most Normal. When he was younger, he almost died of an eye infection that occurred due to the conditions of the mill--which lead to the group's escape to find help. He was only a kitten at that time, and while he pretends it doesn't affect him it does. He can't see very well out of that eye. He feels like it's his fault that they're all seperated now, but he also doesn't dwell on it much. He's got the ability to jump unusually high for a cat his size and build. He could climb an entire oak tree in a matter of seconds, and he has incredible vision.

Abbacchio - Houndsight (Thunderclan) Maine coon

Silver tom with a dark grey stripe along his head to tail tip. He has two toned eyes, and sallow silken fur. For a cat as young as he is, one would think he carries a moon of sadness across his back. He's very low energy and doesn't engage with his clanmates much. It's hard to become his friend, he's prickly, defensive and tired, but once you do you find that he's quite a loyal and wise, if not old, soul. In addition to being saddled with the guilt of The Horrors (his friend dying for him), he's able to communicate with the dead spirits that show themselves to him. They're able to guide him, but never fully interfere.

I wanted to give them abilities like they have in the show, but abilities that sorta made sense within in the context of Warrior Cats. Though, that makes me wonder, if these powers are supposed to fill in the space that Stands leave behind, does that mean Lionblaze, Jayfeather and Dovewing are examples of in universe canon Stand Users? /silly

This AU is entirely for fun and to get me into writing longer stories that I'll Actually finish. I basically grew up and learnt how to read and write with Warrior Cats, so this is kind of exactly my element. With NaNoWritMo coming up, I'd like to actually try to complete the challenge this year, since writing takes a lot of spoons for an unmedicated ADHD person. That being SAIID it's also perfect drawing inspiration too. Not to brag, but I've drawn so many.....memes. I've yet to draw anything serious, they always end up memes, I'm sick.

Here's some of those;

and as a bonus, I guess, here's an extra (outdated, I changed the design) doodle of how I think Mista would sleep as a cat (ft. Goldenwish and old Violethaze design)

anyways, I'm having a TON of fun with this. I'm not entirely sure if anyone else likes this Specific Niche like me, but I'm having fun so who cares, right?

Anyways, I also have designs for characters outside of Part 5, I'm just especially abnormal about part 5. This AU also changes a lot of key events in the main WC story, like Leopardstar dying earlier, Mistystar also dying earlier and there's more like. traditions and world building than what we get in the actual books (Like, I want to add little festivals, special funeral services for fallen leaders, pilgrimages that medicine cats have to take, etc.) because I think it'd be super fun

Anyways, stay tuned gamers I'll probably not shut up about this /silly

[therainbowwarrior4]

Project 2025 is a plan to, in the words of project Director Paul Dans, "...march into office and bring a new army of aligned, trained, and essentially weaponized conservatives ready to do battle against the Deep State".It is organized by the Heritage Foundation, to "muzzle woke propaganda at every level of government", "gut the administrative state" (HUD, FEMA, DOJ, DHS, the Federal Reserve, CDC, FDA, EPA, etc.) and concentrate power into the hands of the President (Leeja Miller, in a video that is linked below, goes into detail on how this would work).Their claim is that "Only through the implementation of specific action plans at each agency will the next conservative presidential Administration be successful".The plan includes a [180 Day Playbook](https://www.project2025.org/playbook/), described as "...a comprehensive, concrete transition plan for each federal agency."

The plan is "the conservative movement's unified effort to be ready for the next conservative administration to govern at 12:00 noon, January 20, 2025".Project 2025 promises to "rescue the country from the grip of the radical Left" and to "unite the conservative movement and the American people against elite rule and woke culture warriors".Project 2025 lists problems with America such as:* The breakdown of the family* Immigration* The "totalitarian cult known today as The Great Awokening"* The erosion of constitutional accountability in Washington* Children suffering the "toxic normalization of transgenderism with drag queens and pornography invading their school libraries"* An "overseas, totalitarian Communist dictatorship" that is "not a strategic partner or fair competitor" and is "engaged in a strategic, cultural and economic Cold War against America's interests, values and people"* "Low-income communities" that are "drowning in addiction and government dependence"* "America's elites have betrayed the American People"* The left using climate change "to scare the American public into accepting their ineffective, liberty crushing regulations"They believe that "These are problems not of technocratic efficiency, but of national sovereignty and constitutional governance. We solve them not by trimming and reshaping the leaves, but by ripping out the trees -- root and branch."

Their broad goals are to:1. Restore the family as the centerpiece of American life, and protect our children2. Dismantle the administrative state and return self-governance to the American people3. Defend our nation's sovereignty, borders and bounty against global threats4. Secure our God-given individual rights to live freely - what our constitution calls "the Blessings of Liberty"Dans states that "The long march of Cultural Marxism through our institutions has come to pass. The federal government is a behemoth, weaponized against American citizens and conservative values, with freedom and liberty under siege as never before".Project 2025 is, in my words, a distinctly terrifying and highly detailed roadmap for:* Installing a Chriso-fascist oligarchy* Rolling back civil and human rights* Removing bodily autonomy from women and transgender individuals* The systematic eradication of minorities and other vulnerable groupsI don't use the words "systematic eradication" lightly or with hyperbole.

They obviously don't come right out and say it, but they state that:* Pornography should be outlawed* The people who produce and distribute it should be imprisoned* Educators and public librarians who purvey it should be classed as registered sex offenders* Telecommunications and technology firms that facilitate its spread should be shutteredThe real problem with the above, apart from the obvious, is that they label the existence of LGBTQIA+ people as "inherently pornographic". They say that pornography is “manifested today through the omnipresent propagation of transgender ideology".They say that the fix "starts with deleting the terms sexual orientation and gender identity ('SOGI'), diversity, equity and inclusion ('DEI'), gender, gender equality, gender awareness, gender sensitive, abortion, reproductive health, reproductive rights, and any other term to deprive Americans of their First Amendment rights out of every federal rule, agency regulation, contract, grant, regulation, and piece of legislation that exists".They also state that "The president should direct agencies to rescind regulations interpreting sex discrimination provisions as prohibiting discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, gender identity, transgender status, sex characteristics, etc."

They want to "maintain a biblically based, social science-reinforced definition of marriage and family" which would remove protections for same-sex marriage.Leeja Miller helpfully points out that the above language does not simply include transgender individuals, it includes cis women as well. I'd argue that removing the DEI language also allows them to target anyone that isn't a white, cis, heterosexual, evangelical (or other approved flavor of Christianity) male.Some other points of note:* They want to eliminate the Department of Education* They want to ban the teaching of Critical Race Theory* They want to bring back the practice of impounding funds

**References*** A direct link to a PDF copy of the project's Policy Agenda, aka their "Mandate for Leadership": [https://thf\_media.s3.amazonaws.com/project2025/2025\_MandateForLeadership\_FULL.pdf](https://thf_media.s3.amazonaws.com/project2025/2025_MandateForLeadership_FULL.pdf), this can be found on the Policy page of the Project 2025 website.* A video from Leeja Miller: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9k3UvaC5m7o](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9k3UvaC5m7o)* An NPR article focusing on the climate policy aspect: [https://www.npr.org/2023/08/08/1192634090/if-republicans-win-the-white-house-in-2024-climate-policy-will-likely-change](https://www.npr.org/2023/08/08/1192634090/if-republicans-win-the-white-house-in-2024-climate-policy-will-likely-change)* A UC Berkeley write up: [https://bpr.berkeley.edu/2023/11/17/project-2025-democratic-doomsday/](https://bpr.berkeley.edu/2023/11/17/project-2025-democratic-doomsday/)* An article from the NECC Observer: [http://observer.necc.mass.edu/blog/2023/11/20/the-danger-of-project-2025/](http://observer.necc.mass.edu/blog/2023/11/20/the-danger-of-project-2025/)* An article from PBS: [https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/conservatives-aim-to-restructure-u-s-government-and-replace-it-with-trumps-vision](https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/conservatives-aim-to-restructure-u-s-government-and-replace-it-with-trumps-vision)