#anti-fragile systems

[zomb13s]

Modularis Defensio: On the Asymmetry of Tactical Intelligence: A Comparative Analysis between Alfons Scholing and the European Mass Mind

Abstract This publication investigates the structural difference in tactical reasoning between Alfons Scholing and the average European or Dutch …Modularis Defensio: On the Asymmetry of Tactical Intelligence: A Comparative Analysis between Alfons Scholing and the European Mass Mind

[aq2003]

i'm listening to this video essay "why i stopped being anti woke" and while i don't agree with all of the sentiment in it it's making me realize how incredibly fragile cishet white men can be lmao like they get so scared when they have to reckon with the fact that they hold societal power and that maybe minorities have a right to complain about the inequalities they face

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Nine

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): post-apocalypse au, swearing, mild angst, mild fluff

Word Count: 6k

The mandate becomes clearer. You start your first day at the archive. Ghost shares information.

Chapter Eight // Chapter Ten

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

United Nations Preservation of Humanity Charter (UN Mandate I)

Pillar I: Genetic Continuity: All citizens capable of reproduction must contribute to the gene pool unless medically exempt.

Pillar II: Historical Memory: Each Safe Zone and its civilians must preserve human history, language, and art, ensuring no generation forgets humanity’s origins.

Pillar III: Weapons Compact: All Safe Zones are forbidden from producing, obtaining, or trading weapons of mass destruction without prior UN Council approval. Military force may be used only under UN mandate to prevent genocide or extinction-level threats. The production or attainment of firearms, explosives, projectiles, blades, or any instrument of war by civilians is prohibited.

Pillar IV: Bioethics: Non-consensual testing on humans is prohibited. Artificial intelligence, cloning, and biotechnology is outlawed unless authorized by UN Council and must prioritize long-term human well-being.

Pillar V: Reintegration: No persons may be denied sanctuary in a Safe Zone on the basis of origin, gender, or religious belief. All survivors have the right to seek safety and sustenance.

Pillar VI: Equity of Resources: Vital resources, such as water, food, medicine, and power, must be shared across Safe Zones under UN allocation protocols, and redistributed in times of shortage.

Pillar VII: Rewilding: Each Safe Zone and the citizens therein must preserve or restore a percentage of surrounding ecosystems to maintain biodiversity and prevent ecological collapse.

Pillar VIII: Cultural Sovereignty: Safe Zones and the citizens therein retain cultural autonomy, as long as that autonomy does not propagate ideologies that promote extinction, discrimination, or historical erasure. Minority cultures, languages, and traditions must be legally protected.

Pillar IX: Equal Dignity: All individuals, regardless of origin, ethnicity, religious belief, sexual orientation, or country of birth, are equal under the law and entitled to equal protection and opportunity.

Pillar X: Anti-Extremism: All Safe Zones and the citizens therein must report, identify, or otherwise notify the respective authoritative bodies of any organizations, groups, collectives, or movements advocating genocide, supremacy, or systemic subjugation.

You close the pamphlet, shutting out what you didn’t want to know but need to understand. The Preservation of Humanity Charter. Mandate I. Specific and yet entirely vague—open to interpretation. On the surface, nothing appears nefarious, yet you detect hypocrisy in it, that as you dig deeper and ask more questions, fractures will appear.

Your gaze shifts to the collection of reading materials the transitional advisor and family planner handed you when you departed. They stare back, mocking. With a sigh, you set the pamphlet down and reach for another. This one is black with white lettering. “Bill of Rights” is embossed on the front near the top of the thin booklet. In the middle is the emblem of the United Nations.

Opening it, you scan the introduction.

In recognition of the fragility of civilization and the enduring worth of all persons, the United Nations affirms the following rights and protections as universal and mandatory for all Safe Zones, Neutral Zones, governing bodies, and military authorities. These rights are preserved under The United Nations Preservation of Humanity Charter, Mandate III, in alliance with the global standards set forth by the United Nations Continuity Council.

You pause in your reading, mind drifting toward all that’s been lost. There was so much chaos when the structures in place began to collapse—when everything destabilized and devolved. No one believed that any of this would happen. When world leaders threatened one another and preached for isolationism, nothing seemed to come of it. People went to work, lived their lives, spent time with their friends and families.

Then came the trade wars, the tariffs, and sanctions. Even then, people only complained about rising prices and the cost of living. Land and border disputes followed. More empty threats where nothing happened, and the news cycle carried on. But one country put boots on the ground. Another did the same in retaliation. Like a faucet being slowly turned on, the droplets became a stream and then a current.

Article I – Right to Existence and Liberty.

All citizens have the right to life, dignity, liberty, and autonomy. No persons shall be subject to enslavement, forced labor, or arbitrary detention.

All “citizens.” You’re not a citizen—not yet. Where does that leave you? Will they grant you full status when probation is lifted?

Article II – Equality Under Law.

A loud, repeated thudding fills the room, coming from the front door. Clutching the thin black booklet, you head for the door, yanking it open, only to find Lieutenant Riley on the other side holding a cardboard box.

“You’re here early,” you blurt.

“Brought you something,” he replies, voice raspy but gentle.

Behind the balaclava, all you can see are his gorgeous brown eyes. There is no crease in his brow—nothing that indicates any emotion. Yet his shoulders are a tad slumped, almost as if he’s exhausted and would rather be in bed.

You step to the side, holding the door open enough for Lieutenant Riley to enter. Shutting the door, you follow behind him as he makes his way into the bedroom. Placing the cardboard box on the bed, Lieutenant Riley rests his hands atop it, silently observing you as you approach the box.

“You brought me something?” you ask with a hint of excitement.

Neutrality becomes softness. A flush of pink blooms at the edges of the balaclava. Ghost taps the top of the box and takes a step back, extending an arm in open invitation.

“Go on,” he urges.

Placing the thin, black booklet on the bed, you reach for the box with eager, itching fingers. Anticipation flowers in your stomach. Only days ago, Lieutenant Riley dumped you out of his lap and left, hardly giving you a glance as he walked out the door. Now, here he is, bringing you a gift.

You open the box and find an array of colors.

“Is this…” you trail off, reaching into the box, fingers gliding along soft fabric.

Lifting it from its home, you unfurl it. A sweater. Deep maroon by the color. The fit looks almost perfect. Holding the sweater off to the side, you peer down into the box.

“Have you brought me clothes?” you ask, almost choking on your words.

On your release from quarantine, you were given a single outfit. You’ve been rotating through two shirts and two pants the last two weeks. Placing the sweater on the bed, you start removing more items. There are tank tops, dress pants, and cardigans. There’s even a sundress. A wave of joy washes over you, drowning you in rapt glee as you retrieve more clothing items out of the cardboard box.

“I guessed on your size,” says Ghost as a mountain of clothes begins to form on the thin duvet. “Wasn’t sure about color. Or style.”

While the clothes are clearly second-hand, all of it is in good condition. You’ll have more than two shirts to wear. More than two pants. Ghost has brought you an entire wardrobe.

Gratitude explodes within you, bringing you to the brink of tears.

“I can exchange what you don’t like,” he continues, rambling on like he’s suddenly nervous. “If something is too big, can always have it resized.”

“Lieutenant,” you whisper, clutching a pair of black slacks to your chest.

“Do you like it?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

He sounds so eager—so hopeful.

Words form and then promptly leave your head, escaping into the air. So, you don’t speak. You walk around the corner of the bed, and push into Lieutenant Riley’s space. Placing your hand on his arm for support, you go up on your toes, pressing your lips to his balaclava-covered cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, squeezing his arm. “For thinking of me.”

Lieutenant Riley’s brow is soft and delicate. He leans in your direction, pure affection in his gaze. It’s startling, sending a rush of heat up your neck and a little flip of your stomach. You quickly drop your hand, backing up.

“You start at the archive today,” states Ghost that soft gaze following your every step.

“I do,” you exhale, smiling in his direction as you delicately fold a pair of jeans. “I’m excited to be around books again.”

“Should pick something out,” nods Ghost. “Look your best for the big day.”

“You’re right,” you grin. “I should.”

After a long deliberation and several spins for Lieutenant Riley’s viewing pleasure, you select a simple black dress with a forest green cardigan. It’s plain and comfortable but professional.

Ghost lightly tugs on the hem of the cardigan. “Fit all right?”

“It’s lovely,” you beam, shying away from how intensely Lieutenant Riley watches you.

It’s hunger but not lecherous in nature. Like dark water, you cannot see into his depths—you cannot begin to guess what he might be thinking. Yet you like the attention, and whatever animosity that lingered between the two of you from the other night is gone. Lieutenant Riley’s body language is relaxed and intimate. The man is in a good mood, and that contentment only heightens your own happiness.

You should enjoy this day. It’s a fresh start. A new beginning in the face of all that you’ve lost.

Ghost releases the cardigan, his arm returning to his side. “Ready?”

You nod. “Ready.”

Out on the street, Ghost escorts you toward a black SUV.

You come to a dead stop. “Is this yours?” you ask in disbelief. “People own cars?”

Ghost opens the front passenger door. “No,” he answers, stepping to the side to indicate that you should get in.

“No this isn’t yours? Or no people don’t own cars?”

“Yes.”

You poke him in the chest, but you’re grinning. “Don’t you dare,” you laugh.

“Dare what?” he replies in mock confusion.

You shake your head good-naturedly, sliding into the passenger seat. Ghost shuts the door, circling around the front of the vehicle to hop into the driver side.

You arch an eyebrow. “Why are you taking me to work in a non-military vehicle?”

“How do you know that?” counters Ghost, draping his arm across the steering wheel.

“So it’s a civilian vehicle?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says casually, leaning back in the seat, reaching into his pocket as he digs around for something.

You open your mouth. Shut it. Ghost chuckles, and you playfully smack his bicep with the back of your hand. Withdrawing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Ghost sets both in the middle console. The SUV roars to life, the floor gently rattling beneath your feet. Ghost checks the side mirror and shifts gears. The vehicle rolls forward, cruising slowly down the street.

Two weeks behind the wall and all you’ve seen is the inside of your temporary apartment, and a few surrounding streets. This is furtherment—a consolidation of what was and the exploration of possibilities. Home is behind you, though it dwells in your heart, and for now, you must make peace with your new reality. You must navigate this to your advantage, happiness, and well-being.

That is the core of survival after all. To carry on.

“Where is the archive?” you ask, peering upward through the windshield at the towering buildings.

“It’s inside the library,” answers Ghost, turning on his blinker as he rolls up to a stop sign. “In the civilian zone.”

“We’re going to the civilian zone?” Your voice is laced with excitement.

All you’ve known is grim-faced men and a militarized looming presence. This might just be your first real sense of normalcy in almost a month.

“We are,” replies Ghost.

You can’t sit still as the SUV shepherds the two of you along. Beneath your skin is a buzzing adrenaline. It pushes you to twist and turn, to try and absorb everything around you. The neutral greyness of the militarized zone starts to change, shifting toward greenery. Where there were only sidewalk, road, and buildings, trees and plants begin to appear at even intervals, adding a touch of color.

Ghost slows the vehicle at a small guard gate. The barrier lifts, and a guard waves the SUV through. The transition to the civilian zone is almost instantaneous—a whiplash. While there are several vehicles on the road, the majority are buses, and beside those in designated lanes are bicyclists and motorized scooters. No one walks around in uniform. It’s so…ordinary, and yet so strange, like you’ve been transported back to a time before the collapse or shoved into a parallel reality.

There is a communal quality to the way people move in groups or pairs. No one appears to be any hurry. Lieutenant Riley turns, and you nearly tell him to stop the car. You press your face to the glass, mouth agape as he drives by an open market.

As he takes another turn, you whirl around in your seat. “What was that? Can we stop there?”

Behind the balaclava, the skin around Lieutenant Riley’s eyes wrinkle, hinting at a hidden smile. “Another time,” he murmurs. “Promise. Don’t want to be late on your first day.”

You press yourself against the seat, head tilted in the direction of the window. While everything appears clean—utopian even—there is an underlying rawness, a wear and tear that can only come from age and lack of sufficient resources. Questions fire off in your head. There is so much you want to ask Ghost. If he weren’t so goddamn stubborn, you’d talk his ear off for hours. Instead, you sit still, toying with the hem of your dress as Lieutenant Riley guides the vehicle along.

A few more turns, and then you’re solidified, staring up in shock at the building before you.

“Oh my God,” you say aloud.

Lieutenant Riley snorts at your outburst.

The library’s front façade are book spines in various colors and titles. This is not a structure built in the collapse but from the time before, when libraries were receiving adequate funding, the government cared about knowledge, and learning was publicly free institution. The very center of the building, where the stone stairs meet the entrance doors, is a wall of glass, splitting the book spines into two sections.

“This is—This is amazing,” you gasp.

Ghost grunts in what must be an agreement. Either way, you don’t particularly care. This is a library, a place you never thought you’d see in all its glory again.

“Are you crying?” asks Lieutenant Riley, reaching across the center counsel to place his hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you hiccup, wiping away a wayward tear.

“What’s upset you?” He sounds genuinely worried, and that only makes you cry harder.

“I’m happy. I promise,” you say through a shaky breath.

The crease in the middle of Lieutenant Riley’s brow doesn’t abate. “Need to take a minute?”

You nod, sniffling, using the sleeve of the cardigan to absorb the remaining tears. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” Ghost nods but remains the quiet companion as you gather your composure. “I’m ready,” you murmur after a minute.

Lieutenant Riley leans away from you, fingers pressing against the door lock buttons. You hear the audible transition of the locks disengaging. Reaching for the handle, you take a deep breath, readying yourself for what’s to come.

The car door opens. Crisp, cool air rushes in. You inhale sharply, slipping from the seat, landing on solid ground. Glancing over your shoulder, you lock gazes with Lieutenant Riley. He gives a little nod, an encouraging inclination to go.

You raise your hand in the smallest goodbye, slamming the SUV door. Through the window tint, you watch him watching you. Backward step. A turn of your heel. Forward step by forward step. Stairs.

At the top, just before the glass doors, you turn one last time. Ghost is still parked at the curb. Waiting. This is a different version of him, a patient and caring Lieutenant Riley you haven’t seen before. He’s certainly flirted, found ways to comfort you, but there has always been distance—a separation. You consider this change as you enter the library, questioning whether Lieutenant Riley’s motivations are pure.

Who did they assign to you?

Why does it matter?

It matters to me.

The bit of joy that’s made a nest in you fractures. Small cracks. Tiny fissures. Not enough to notice but just wide enough to allow bitterness in.

I was offended they didn’t make me an offer.

Perhaps Lieutenant Riley’s motivations aren’t pure. It’s clear that he wants you to himself, but why? Why you when he could probably have anyone?

As you enter the library, you’re greeted by a warmly lit space, the interior all dark wood and polished stone. Overhead, you notice a balcony of a second story. All you can see of it are the tops of the shelves, but that isn’t what captures your attention. As you approach the front desk, you notice the lack of books on the shelves. Some are completely empty, others full. Most are partially stocked with sections of barren shelving, dust collecting in the corners.

You give your name at the desk, and the receptionist smiles.

“Follow me,” she says, voice soft and lyrical.

As the two of you head toward the back of the building, your awe becomes worry. Most of the lights are turned off back here. The bit of light it does receive comes from the main windows up front and a few skylights that cut through the middle of the second-story ceiling. Rope barricades close off endless rows of empty shelves. Destruction has not touched them. They are simply empty. Bones and broken skulls that once held neural gore.

“Through this door, dear,” says the receptionist, indicating a door that says, “Archival Department” and below that “Employees Only.”

“Thank you,” you reply, but she’s already off, shoes clacking against the marble.

You press your hand to the door, standing there in the muted shadows. Instinct is rising, whispering to run, to seek shelter in more familiar places. But there is nowhere for you to go. Even if you were to walk out the front door, Lieutenant Riley might not be out front, and you don’t know how to return to your apartment.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to the door with the other hand on the handle. “Fuck.”

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You have to—

Turning the handle, you shove it open, barreling through without looking where you’re going. You nearly take a tumble, righting yourself at the last moment. The door slam shuts behind you, and three pairs of eyes stare back.

“That’s certainly an entrance,” comes a masculine voice with a thick Irish accent.

A tall, lanky man with wire-thin glasses sits behind a plain wood desk covered in stacks of paper and various office supplies. His auburn hair has a touch of grey in it—messy too like he’s only just rolled out of bed. In his hand is a white mug with black lettering that says Yes, I really do need all these books.

“Hi,” you manage, raising your hand in greeting.

When he smiles, there is a fatherly touch to it. You instantly gravitate toward it. “I’m Arthur,” he says, rising from his chair and circling around the front of his desk, arm extended, hand offered in a handshake.

You give your own name, clasping his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re me new archivist.”

“I am,” you nod.

Arthur beams. “Welcome.” He turns to the other two people in the room. Both are women around your age give or take a year or two. “This is Hannah.” He nods toward a blonde with a head of tight curls. “And that is Eloise.”

“Hello,” they greet in unison, all smiles.

The room itself is a quaint office space. Along the far wall are large windows that let in natural light. There are four desks in total, three clearly belong to Arthur, Hannah, and Eloise. The fourth sits empty and must be yours. Beneath your shoes is worn, dark wood and the walls are an off beige with one accent wall in dark green. Pushed up against the three walls without windows are rows and rows of shelving, all of it packed and overflowing. A few of the wood shelves sag inward, threatening to collapse at any moment.

“Charles mentioned your experience,” says Arthur. He takes a drink from his mug. “We’re happy to have you. Too much work for three.” He chuckles. “Not that four will be much better.”

“I noticed all the empty shelves,” you reply, taking a leap in what he might be referring to.

He nods solemnly. “This library services the entire Safe Zone. You’d think they’d assign more staff.” Arthur shakes his head. “We can’t process all this material fast enough. Demand is high but we’re only three.” He lifts his coffee mug in your direction. “Four.”

“Staying busy sounds nice,” you reply, because it’s true. You need out of your fucking head. You need to be away from Ghost and from that apartment for a bit. “And books make me happy.”

Arthur nods. “Hopefully you’ll still love them as time goes on.” He clears his throat. “Now, about the job.”

An endless sea of information rushes at you. Eloise and Hannah float about the office, the two of them chatting in French as they rifle through paperwork. Arthur leaves them to it, taking you on a full tour of the office space and then into the library itself. You stay politely silent through most of it, asking questions when there are lulls. Meandering through the library, Arthur circles back to the office, bringing you to another door.

“Behind here,” he begins. “Is everything we have yet to duplicate.”

While walking through the library, Arthur explained the only books on the shelves were ones they already had duplicates of. There are plenty more where there are only singular copies. Some in pristine condition, others needing a reprint. But it’s not all physical. There are digital versions too that are sitting, waiting to be processed.

“It’s a maze in there.”

“I’m ready,” you smile.

Arthur opens the door, the two of you stepping inside. The quality of the air is immediately different. On the wall next to the door are several panels indicating temperature, air quality, and humidity. It’s all being monitored. But that’s not what shocks you.

Arthur wasn’t joking. The place is a fucking maze.

“What—what is all this?” you ask, turning toward him, gesturing at what can only be called a mess.

Arthur sighs, adjusting his glasses. “That is too much work for four people.”

There is no organization. To order in the chaos. It’s just rows of shelving, stacks of cardboard boxes and storage bins. There are even stacked books pressed up against the wall. A home was found, even that means home is on the goddamn floor.

“No kidding,” you whisper.

Just as Arthur opens his mouth, the door swings open.

“It’s lunch,” says Hannah.

Arthur checks his watch. “Look at that.”

“And someone is here for you,” adds Hannah, smiling in your direction.

“Me?” You point at yourself as if there might be another of you lurking in the stacks.

Hannah’s smile shifts, becoming a knowing smirk like she’s holding on to a little secret.

Arthur claps and pats his stomach. “Lunch is an hour. A full hour.” He winks. “We take that seriously around here.”

At the library reception desk, you find an unexpected visitor.

“Lieutenant,” you breathe, approaching Ghost slowly. “Are we leaving?”

You don’t want to go. Only a few hours in and you’re eager to stay, to idle amongst the shelves.

In one hand, Ghost carries a soft-sided insulated cooler bag. Tucked under that arm is large blanket. The receptionists gaze lingers on the two of you, observing with abject curiosity. Ghost is in his all-black fatigues and balaclava.

“Thought I’d bring lunch,” he states.

“That’s kind of you,” you murmur, reaching for the blanket.

Ghost surrenders it without protest. “There’s a park across the street.”

You nod, clutching the blanket to your chest. “I’d like that.”

A few minutes later and you’re sitting on the blanket, soaking up the sun as Lieutenant Riley opens the cooler bag. He retrieves a glass bottle of water along with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and some cut raw veggies.

“Eat as much as you want,” sighs Ghost as he settles onto his back, arms tucked behind his head.

Unwrapping one of the sandwiches, you take a bite, chewing slowly. “Thank you.”

Lieutenant Riley glances at you. “You didn’t pack a lunch. Knew you’d be hungry.”

“Looking after me?” you tease.

“That’s my job.”

You snort and take another bite. As you chew, you pour yourself some water. It’s cold and crisp. Refreshing. “Didn’t work today?” you venture to ask.

“Work every day,” sighs Ghost. “Price doesn’t mind if I slip away for an hour or two.”

“Must be nice,” you murmur.

“First day treating you well?”

You nod, still chewing. Swallowing, you answer him. “It’s a good fit. Keep me busy.”

“Good.”

“Arthur is the Lead Archivist. And Irish. Hannah and Eloise speak French, but their accents are different.” You take another bite. “Pretty sure Hannah’s Canadian and Eloise is from France,” you muse. After a few seconds of silence, you continue. “Is that normal for all the Safe Zones?”

Ghost adjusts, stretching. “Is what normal?”

“Is it normal for people from different countries to all live in a Safe Zone together?”

Lieutenant Riley stares up into the sky. “It’s on purpose.” You start to formulate a follow-up question, but he carries on. “To dispel supremacy movements. Can’t gather support if the remaining population is scattered across hundreds of Safe Zones.”

“There are hundreds of Safe Zones?” Ghost nods but doesn’t elaborate. “How many exactly?” you probe.

“Just over two hundred.”

Two hundred? There aren’t even two hundred countries. You recall the map in Commander Graves’ office, of the different colored stars that dotted the unlabeled land masses. Of the stars, there were eight different colors, but now that you consider it, they easily could have been two hundred of them on it.

“Are they all large like this one?”

“No,” snorts Lieutenant Riley. “Most are small. Only a few dozen are the size of this one. Ten that are even larger.”

This is the most information Ghost has given you. He appears more open than before. Relaxed. You take another bite of your sandwich, knowing that you need to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Is that why the country flags are black on your uniforms?”

Like a sudden breeze that chills the bones, Lieutenant Riley’s demeanor shifts to a somber note. “Partially,” he answers, voice raspy. “Black flags used to mean something different. Now it’s a statement of grief and remembrance.”

“I don’t entirely understand,” you say softly, shifting closer to him. “There’s so much I don’t know. And no one is willing to talk to me about it. They just…stare at me like I’m dumb.”

You recall Commander Graves’ disgusted expression, and the aloofness you received from Charles. Joann didn’t acknowledge your lack of understanding either.

Ghost still stares into the sky. “Countries exist by law and not land. Borders don’t bloody matter when half a continent is devasted by warfare.”

A sourness blooms in your stomach, the food sitting heavy. “What about your home?”

“Habitable. But destroyed. The infrastructure is gone. All the major cities are craters.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

Lieutenant Riley finally looks at you, a sadness settling in his brow. “I’ll be fine, dove. Everyone I care about is here.”

You give his arm a little squeeze before retreating, fiddling with the paper wrapper your sandwich sits in. While you’d like more answers, it’s clear that this topic upsets him. Lieutenant Riley’s home is gone—obliterated. It’s not a pleasant topic for idle conversation.

“With the school attached, I might be asked to lead a writing or reading class. Maybe sub if someone is sick. Arthur mentioned that they try to go there once a week to help those students who are behind reading level.”

It’s an attempt to turn the conversation around, to divert Lieutenant Riley’s thoughts elsewhere. He takes it, some of that sadness receding.

“You interested in that?” he inquires.

You incline your head. “Yes. Did it all the time in my previous community.” Taking another bite of your sandwich, you chew thoughtfully. “But I wouldn’t call what we had a ‘school.’ Did our best though.”

Lieutenant Riley’s gaze is soft. There is a lightness to it, an affectionate edge that reminds you of this morning. You fluster under that stare, staring down at your lap.

“You’ll be brilliant,” he states with such confidence that you believe it too. A smile forms on your lips, spreading wide until your cheeks hurt. Lieutenant Riley rolls onto his side. “Can I kiss you?”

Startled, you blink rapidly. “I—” You giggle. “Yes.”

As you lean toward him, Ghost reaches out, grasping the back of your neck to draw you closer. With one hand on his chest, and the other pushing up his balaclava to reveal his lips, you don’t care if anyone is watching. The sweet connection is instant sunshine—a flowering of a season. Low in your core, a heat stirs.

Soft and slow, Ghost restrains himself, and that only fuels the desire swirling inside you. This is the Lieutenant Riley you like. The one you want to know. Even though you’ve been ripped from your home, you could make a new one here, with him, if only it were always like this.

“Dove,” he breathes against your lips.

That name he calls you. An endearment. You pretend to hate it, but the way he always says it with a husky tone sends you over the edge every time. It drives into your skull. Burrows in your bone.

“Need to take you back,” he whispers, nuzzling your cheek. You linger here, eyes closing as his thumb traces the underside of your bottom lip.

The walk back is silent but not awkward. You stand close to him, arms occasionally brushing against each other with the sway of your body. The urge to hold his hand is suffocating, but you resist. There is no relationship here—only a terrible back-and-forth that you cannot wrap your head around.

The rest of your workday is a blur. It’s combing the library catalog and organizing stacks of paperwork Eloise places on your desk. There is no clear organization. Most of the paperwork are inquiries from other Safe Zones, wanting to know if they have extra copies of certain materials. You do not touch anything in the storage room, but neither do Arthur, Hannah, or Eloise. It dawns on you then, that the work happening requires far more people than what’s been staffed.

When Lieutenant Riley comes to pick you up, you’re almost thankful. Exhaustion settles over you, and you don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep in the passenger seat until Ghost awakens you. Every step is a drag, and all you want is your bed.

With a groan, you flop onto the duvet. Beside you, the bed dips as Ghost sits.

“Are you staying?” you ask into the bedding.

“No.” Silence. Then, “I have to take you to the family planner at the end of the week.”

Your eyes pop open, the tiredness vanishing. Pushing up, you turn toward Lieutenant Riley. “Did they say why?”

He shakes his head. “Just that they want to see you.”

This is it.

The push.

“You’re being pushy.”

“I’m sorry if I’m coming across that way.” Joann folds her hands in front of her on the desk. She has this superior look about her, as if to say, I know more than you. “I’m simply thinking ahead. Better to start the search now than wait until you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready,” you scoff, still in complete belief at Joann’s audacity to hurl this at you. “I haven’t even been assigned my new home after probation. I just started my job a few days ago.” You shake your head. “This is all very sudden.”

Joann puts on an air of false sympathy. “I completely understand. It’s a difficult transition. But if you put this off, you’ll find yourself rushing later.”

I fucking doubt that, you think even as the words threaten to leave your mouth.

She raises her hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t think of it in the way you’re thinking. You don’t need to make a decision tomorrow.” Joann shrugs. “Think of it as shopping.”

“You’re asking me to shop around for a potential spouse?”

“Or sperm donor,” interjects Joann. “We are inclusive here.”

You wince, wanting to be done with this conversation. It’s not as easy as saying no and moving on. Joann isn’t here speaking with you just for you to throw a no in her face. Not that she gave you the option. I put you down for single’s social, she had said with a bright smile, as if that’s something you wanted to hear today.

“Do I need to wear anything specific?” you ask. “Is this a casual event? Or…”

“It’s casual, but I’d recommend something that compliments you.” She laughs. “No one is going to be in a suit if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Didn’t know those still existed,” you mutter.

Joann ignores your comment. “Look at this as an opportunity. I’ve already received a few inquiries about your eligibility.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “You’ve received what?”

Joann continues like she didn’t hear you. “All of them will be there. And I’ll likely receive more after you attend.” She sighs dreamily. “Especially from those military boys. They see what they want and go after it.”

No. Fucking no.

“This will overwhelm me,” you chuckle nervously. “I shouldn’t go.”

Joann blinks. “Course you should. It’ll do you good to get out. Talk with people other than Lieutenant Riley. I know he’s mysterious and has a bit of a bad boy reputation, but he’s not the only option.” She smooths her hand over the small stack of papers in front of her. “It’s also an excellent opportunity to make some connections. Maybe find friends.”

You could use some friends, but your coworkers are starting to fill that gap. Eloise brought you some croissants she made, and Hannah presented you with your very own coffee mug with “Book Sniffer” on it because she caught you smelling a particularly beautiful copy of War & Peace.

Gathering up the papers, Joann gently taps them against the top of the table. “Lieutenant Riley will be there but I recommend you branch out. I know that he’s probably a place of safety for you right now but lingering at his side all night isn’t the best idea.”

“Why is that?” you snap.

While you’re genuinely interested in knowing, you’re also a bit pissed off that Joann called you out. Ghost is your safety net, and if he’s attending, why would you leave his side to speak with anyone else.

“It’s not fair to others,” answers Joann simply. “Stick by Lieutenant Riley’s side during the whole social and people will think you’re spoken for. They’ll complain.” She looks at you pointedly. “And we don’t want that.”

Fuck.

Causing problems. It’s the exact thing you don’t want to do while you’re on your probationary period. Once you’re past it, things might be different. Charles hasn’t discussed what comes after. He didn’t say whether or not you receive immediate citizenship or if there’s an additional process.

No one is giving you clear direction. No one wants to fully explain. It’s expected submission, to look down and follow along. Pushing back or questioning too much seems to aggravate everyone.

“No,” you agree. “We don’t want that.”

Joann’s face lights up, and you immediately want to slap it off her face. “Brilliant,” she sighs. “Here’s the information. Can’t wait to hear all about it when I see you next.”

Fucking doubtful.

With a half-hearted smile, you make your exit, meeting Ghost in the lobby of the building. When he notices you, he immediately turns in your direction, walking toward you with purpose in every step.

“Everything good?” he asks, grasping your arm to pull you in.

You hand him the information instead of speaking. Ghost takes it, gaze roaming over the piece of paper rapidly.

“You’re fucking joking,” he growls.

[psychotrenny]

I think one of Imperialism's most evil strategies is the national scale torture you'll see inflicted on countries that dare to dream of freedom. Like it's not just about overthrowing the anti-imperialist regime itself, but utterly breaking the very social, economic and in turn psychological foundations it's built upon. Prolonged periods of destruction that are as systematic as they are sadistic with the aim of making life unlivable until the government either collapses or gives in, accepting whatever concessions are forced upon them as the nation is remoulded into an dependent and obedient little neocolony.

Sometimes an imperialist power will act directly to achieve this (just take the gratuitous and deliberate destruction of civil infrastructure during the bombings of Yugoslavia and Iraq), but the preferred strategy is to employ local proxies. Groups like RENAMO in Mozambique or the Contras of Nicaragua. Bands of reactionaries, traitors and general desperadoes are gathered up, trained, armed and transported over the border at the expense of the Imperialists and their local collaborators. These armed groups have no interest in build mass support, of representing an alternative way of life. Their only purpose is destruction; killing, torturing, looting, burning whatever they can in order to bring their country to its knees. Frequently targeting important nodes in the networks that sustain the nation and the people's faith in it (bridges, rail depots, factories, hospitals and schools) but ultimately happy to attack whatever they can; every house burned or person tortured contributes to the climate of terror and corrosion of government credibility. Because when they kill these groups don't like to do it cleanly; their attacks generate countless reports immolation, disembowelment, victims hacked to pieces and left to bleed. But when possible they prefer to leave their victims alive and capable of further spreading their terror, inflicting the most vicious sorts of rape and mutilation on a mass scale

It's not just just evil for the sake of evil mind you. The cruelty has a point; human destruction to accompany the physical. Every person killed is someone who can no longer contribute to the development of the nation, while even living yet physically and psychologically broken victim places further strain on their country's increasingly fragile support systems. Meanwhile the terror of these actions spreads the impact beyond their immediate victims. The murder and torture of peasants makes the survivors too scared to go back into their fields, slowly starving the nation as the rural economy grind to a halt. The gruesome deaths of traders and travelers leaves the survivors too terrified to continue their business, shutting down the distributive networks that make national development and often life itself possible. The terror unleashed on foreign professionals can prompt the survivors to flee and discourage newcomers from arriving, depriving the underdeveloped economic and education systems of the skilled workers they need to improve or even function. And every broken body, ever broken mind, is proof of the government's weakness and ineptitude; a humiliating failure to protect their own people that demoralises supporters and empowers dissenters. The motivated sadism of these terrorist attacks is a microcosm of the motivated sadism displayed by their Imperialist backers

But why go to all this trouble? Why not just send in the paratroopers or organise a coup to end those troublesome regimes quickly? Sometimes it's a matter of possibility. As great as they are, the powers of Imperialist nations are not unlimited. All manner of constraints (domestic unrest, international condemnation which advantages dangerous rivals, the simple financial and human costs of such operations) limit what actions are viable or desirable. This is especially significant when the targets are motivated and disciplined anti-imperialists with a base of deep-rooted popular support, the sort of regime that won't go down to a simple commando raid or bribe to the right general. But sometimes, it's not enough to merely cut down a dissenting government; you have to salt the earth and make sure nothing similar ever grows back. I'll finish with the words of an anonymous Jesuit priest, talking about Nicaragua yet in terms widely relevant enough to be published in John Saul's conclusion to A Difficult Road: The Transition to Socialism in Mozambique (1985):

In Chile the Americans made a mistake. They cut off the revolution too abruptly. They killed the revolution but, as we can see from recent developments there, they didn't kill the dream. In Nicaragua, they're trying to kill the dream

[mariacallous]

Students and activists from multiple faiths are sounding the alarm over the Trump administration and lawmakers’ efforts to silence dissent on college campuses over issues like Palestinian rights — accusing officials of using allegations of antisemitism as a pretext to crush free speech and exert control over the country’s higher education system.

At a hearing Wednesday, the Senate Judiciary Committee listened to testimony related to the rise in antisemitism in the U.S., particularly after the deadly Hamas attack on Israel in October 2023. With the exception of temporary, fragile ceasefires, Israeli forces have been fighting in Gaza — and destroying infrastructure and killing civilians — ever since.

The U.S. also has seen a rise in Islamophobia since the attack, though Wednesday’s Senate hearing did not include concerns over that issue. Sen. Dick Durbin (D-Ill.), the Republican-controlled committee’s ranking member, stressed that the panel under his leadership had held multiple hearings on hate against all faiths. He added that the mother of Wadee Alfayoumi, the 6-year-old Palestinian American boy murdered by his landlord in Illinois, attended a previous hearing.

“It was clearly a hate crime, and it was based on their religion,” Durbin said. “And the fact that that was part of the hearing did not diminish in any way my strong feelings about antisemitism. It is the same hatred that we’re trying to stamp out today.”

In the spring of 2024, protests erupted on college campuses across the country, with students and faculty of all faiths peacefully demanding that the U.S. government – the Biden administration at the time – stop supporting Israel in its destruction of Gaza and the Palestinian people.

Similar to the students who protested the Vietnam War, participants faced police brutality, far-right agitators, retaliation by their schools and mostly unfounded accusations of being antisemitic. Just Wednesday, Columbia University’s Barnard College expelled a third student for participating in pro-Palestinian activism.

“It is essential we continue working to dismantle real antisemitism while also defending our friends and community members who are falsely accused of antisemitism,” Ellie Baron, a Bryn Mawr College student who is part of this year’s graduating class, said in a statement. “The only [way]forward is through forging greater solidarity with all people who are targeted by fascism and supremacist ideologies, including antisemitism and anti-Palestinian racism.”

President Donald Trump has threatened to essentially sanction universities that allow peaceful protests for Palestinian human rights, and he has even called for revoking the visas of foreign students who participate in those protests. At Wednesday’s hearing, Sen. Josh Hawley (R-Mo.) repeatedly questioned why the government should not enact Trump’s pledge todeport foreign students who commit “an act of violence against a Jewish student.”

“Well, that’s already the law,” civil liberties attorney Jenin Younes posted on X. “So everyone with a brain knows these ‘antisemitism’ related [executive orders] aren’t about prosecuting violent crime or other illegal conduct like harassment and vandalizing property. They’re about suppressing disfavored speech and you’re smart enough to know that this is a grave violation of 1A.”

Despite Trump and his allies’ statements that they care about Jewish safety, the president’s actions have done the opposite. Trump and his billionaire friend Elon Musk are behind the layoffs of at least a dozen government officials from the Education Department’s office of civil rights, which looked into students’ complaints of discrimination — including antisemitism.

The president has a history of objectively antisemitic statements, like saying that any Jewish person who votes for Democrats “hates their religion,” and implying that Jewish Americans have dual loyalty with Israel. On his first day in office this term, Trump issued full pardons to rioters who carried out the insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021, including white nationalists and others who brought antisemitic symbols to the Capitol.

Musk has also come under fire for giving a Nazi-like salute during an event, openly supporting far-right German politics and saying that society should stop paying so much attention to the Holocaust.

“It is reprehensible that MAGA senators who have aligned themselves with white nationalists and antisemites like Elon Musk are putting on this hearing to crack down on the movement for Palestinian rights and for our civil liberties writ large under the guise of fighting antisemitism,” Jewish progressive group IfNotNow said Wednesday. “We refuse to let our Jewish community be the face of the Trump-Musk administration’s attacks on our rights.”

Protecting education and open dialogue is vital to “the ability of Jewish students to succeed and thrive,” Tufts University student Meirav Solomon testified at the Senate hearing on Wednesday.

Some lawmakers support adopting the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which labels most criticism of the State of Israel as antisemitic. Civil and human rights groups – as well as the definition’s original co-author – have strongly opposed it as “overbroad” and “unconstitutional,” particularly in education spaces.

In November, a federal judge ruled that a state-level executive order threatening funding to Texas colleges and universities who don’t update campus free speech policies to include the IHRA definition of antisemitism likely violates the First Amendment.

“Distorting the meaning of antisemitism and making Jews the face of a campaign to crush free speech is deeply dangerous to Jewish Americans,” Barry Trachtenberg, presidential chair of Jewish history at Wake Forest University, said in a statement, “and all of us who work for collective liberation.”

[antifainternational]

Is Antifa Anti-White? Part Two: The Historical Origins of Racism & An Answer to Anon's Question

(this week, we received a question from an Anon: "I notice with some of the messaging and words spoken on clothing and youtube videos. this might be a silly or even dumb question. but is ANTIFA an anti-white group? is it in the racial fuck white people as a group of people sense or is there another meaning to it? cause I've been really interested in this group but ill immediately backtrack if I find out that instead of promoting equality as we should. we simply promote hate, but to our oppressors instead. whether they are or aren't a fascist." In Part One of our response, we looked at what race is - a social construct.) PART TWO

The concept of race isn't even as old as you might think. It was invented in the colonial United States in the 17th century. There, wealthy Europeans increased their wealth through the labour of African and Indigenous slaves and indentured European servants. The workers vastly outnumbered the wealthy European landowners/slave masters and, if they united, would easily overthrow their overlords. To help prevent this from happening, a system of “race” was dreamed up, creating a hierarchy of privilege and power based on made-up racial categories, with white people (who most resembled the landowners/slave masters) at the top of the system, receiving the most power and privilege.  In 1681, the first mention of a white race in law appeared in a Virginia law prohibiting Africans from marrying “whites.” Race was created as a system to reserve power to a specific class of people – people that most closely resembled the European colonists that invaded and occupied the Americas in the 15th and 16th centuries as a way to divide and control the people subservient to those colonists by obscuring the interests they had in common (namely, overthrowing the colonists and liberating themselves) and making some of them believe they shared common interests with the overlords exploiting them.  That’s why we still have race today – it’s a social construct that provides enormous power to the elites that control us today by artificially separating us, providing disproportionate power and privilege to those of us classified as “white” and making many so-called white people falsely believe that their common interests are the same as those wealthy elites who they look like in some respects and not with their neighbours, classmates, and coworkers who might look somewhat different than they do. Whiteness is a passport to a disproportionate share of power based on membership in that category. White people carry with them a set of privileges exclusive to their racial category that most of them remain unaware of their entire lives! In fact, pointing out these privileges to "white" people commonly causes them to react with denial, outrage, and hurt feelings (this is, in part, called "white fragility"). This power and these privileges come at the expense of other people not considered white. This is what racism is - the belief or acceptance that humans can be categorized into races; that these races then form a hierarchy (in which "white" people are nearly always placed at the top; and that this hierarchy confers more power and privilege to those at the top, at the expense of those lower in the hierarchy.  Racism taints every single institution in our society and every individual living in our society. So now (finally!), we return to your question: if as anti-fascists we oppose racism and bigotry, we have to recognize that racism is a hierarchy that provides the most power and privilege to people classified as white, to the detriment of everyone else.  The ideology of racism infects all of us to the point that most of us have for our entire lives assumed that race was a biological reality, with clear boundaries established by well-reasoned science for each racial category. If whiteness is nothing more than a social construct, we can socially deconstruct it if we believe that reserving that much power and privilege to people categorized as white is harmful to society. Since it’s plainly obvious that this is the case, as anti-fascists we have to oppose whiteness. Note that this is different than saying that we “hate” or oppose people who’ve been categorized as white. Instead, it’s calling on white people to unlearn the racism they’ve known all their lives,  which privileges and empowers them, as “white folk,” to the determinant of all others. It’s insisting that white people now use that power and privilege to the benefit of others in order to build a society truly based on equality.

[ms-demeanor]

One thing that I keep seeing whenever I make posts that are critical of macs is folks in the notes going "they make great computers for the money if you just buy used/refurbs - everyone knows not to buy new" and A) no they don't know that, most people go looking for a new computer unless they have already exhausted the new options in their budget and B) no they don't make great computers for the money, and being used doesn't do anything to make them easier to work on or repair or upgrade.

Here's a breakdown of the anti-consumer, anti-repair features recently introduced in macbooks. If you don't want to watch the video, here's how it's summed up:

In the end the Macbook Pro is a laptop with a soldered-on SSD and RAM, a battery secured with glue, not screws, a keyboard held in with rivets, a display and lid angle sensor no third party can replace without apple. But it has modular ports so I guess that’s something. But I don’t think it’s worthy of IFixIt’s four out of ten reparability score because if it breaks you have to face apple’s repair cost; with no repair competition they can charge whatever they like. You either front the cost, or toss the laptop, leaving me wondering “who really owns this computer?”

Apple doesn't make great computers for the money because they are doing everything possible to make sure that you don't actually own your computer, you just lease the hardware from apple and they determine how long it is allowed to function.

The lid angle sensor discussed in this video replaces a much simpler sensor that has been used in laptops for twenty years AND calibrating the sensor after a repair requires access to proprietary apple software that isn't accessible to either users or third party repair shops. There's no reason for this software not to be included as a diagnostic tool on your computer except that Apple doesn't want users working on apple computers. If your screen breaks, or if the fragile cable that is part of the sensor wears down, your only option to fix this computer is to pay apple.

How long does apple plan to support this hardware? What if you pay $3k for a computer today and it breaks in 7 years - will they still calibrate the replacement screen for you or will they tell you it's time for new hardware EVEN THOUGH YOU COULD HAVE ATTAINED FUNCTIONAL HARDWARE THAT WILL WORK IF APPLE'S SOFTWARE TELLS IT TO?

Look at this article talking about "how long" apple supports various types of hardware. It coos over the fact that a 2013 MacBook Air could be getting updates to this day. That's the longest example in this article, and that's *hardware* support, not the life cycle of the operating system. That is dogshit. That is straight-up dogshit.

Apple computers are DRM locked in a way that windows machines only wish they could pull off, and the apple-only chips are a part of that. They want an entirely walled garden so they can entirely control your interactions with the computer that they own and you're just renting.

Even if they made the best hardware in the world that would last a thousand years and gave you flowers on your birthday it wouldn't matter because modern apple computers don't ever actually belong to apple customers, at the end of the day they belong to apple, and that's on purpose.

This is hardware as a service. This is John Deere. This is subscription access to the things you buy, and if it isn't exactly that right at this moment, that is where things have been heading ever since they realized it was possible to exert a control that granular over their users.

With all sympathy to people who are forced to use them, Fuck Apple I Hope That They Fall Into The Ocean And Are Hidden Away From The Honest Light Of The Sun For Their Crimes.

[weemietime]

There isn't a whole lot of content on Tumblr about schizoid personality disorder so I thought I would make a little informational post. SZPD is a cluster A personality disorder, of the odd/eccentric cluster alongside schizotypal and paranoid. It is on the schizophrenia spectrum, and comprises the negative rather than positive symptoms of schizophrenia.

This primarily means we have avolition, catatonia, flat/blunted affect (demeanor), limited interoception (emotional sensations), lack of bonds to others including primary family members, and indifference to the opinions of others.

Whilst this isn't a diagnostic criteria, many of us are also asexual and aromantic, meaning we don't want to have sex with other humans (but usually do masturbate) and have no interest in romantic companionship.

My most disabling symptom is avolition, because I have comorbid ADHD. This means when I don't have my medication (dextromethorphan 120mg) I just sit there and zone out and can't even hold a conversation or move my body, nor even do things like feed myself. It is genuinely crippling and I am unemployed because of this, even though my meds help, they don't cure me and I need a lot of time alone.

Schizoid is something of an "anti-human" disorder, because we fail to form basic social bonds with others including primary caregivers. As a child I got diagnosed with inhibited RAD because I could not tolerate human contact. This differs from autism because autistic people generally want to socialize, they just lack the skills. I don't want to socialize and it takes tremendous effort for me to do so.

To even make this post I had to wait for my meds to click in as I was just sitting there mindlessly beforehand. While we have low internal sensations of emotions like caring, love, happiness, trust, sadness, etc. we aren't typically antisocial/dissocial and don't have a pattern of exploiting others or dishonesty. This requires too much effort.

There is a schizoid version of narcissism but it is separate to narcissistic personality disorder. NPD is characterized by a very fragile ego. You can't contradict or disagree with NPD because they are unable to regulate the emotions caused by conflict. Conversely, SZPD does not care about the opinions of others at all and places little value on them.

Our sense of superiority is legitimate, meaning we just do genuinely believe we are smarter than other people. So your mileage may vary on how insufferable you find that. I recognize this trait in myself and work to actively challenge it since it is illogical for me to think I am more special than anyone else. But, my ego is very stable, so criticism doesn't bother me the way it would in NPD.

Interoception means the sensations you feel inside your body. We lack this, so even stuff like hunger and tiredness don't impact us until we are very hungry or extremely exhausted. I don't have the feeling you would to look at a family member and get a sense of love or trust. I have a logical sense of obligation that I developed through choosing what I value based on reason. I describe this as care, and I place importance on my friendships, but there is no emotional component to this, it is all cognitive.

Tangentially: I'm somewhat of an optimistic nihilist, believing that there is no grand purpose to existence. Yes, even as a religious person. I don't think G-d ultimately has a purpose either, as an agent of the universe. (I don't believe G-d created the universe.) We have a human nervous system, so we base our rubric for morality on suffering and decide what is meaningful both collectively and individually.

I don't believe in true freedom of will (but I do believe we have agency), because we know that Bereitschaftspotential or reaction potentials occur in the brain up to two seconds before we become conscious of a volitional desire. Our consciousness occurs because of quantum synchronicity in the brain, so our free will is in a bit of an in-between state rather than fully determined or fully free.

So, we are not born deciding "I'm going to be an abuser," that happens because of brain abnormalities. It's no different than the forces of creation and destruction at work like a virus infecting a host cell. I don't place much importance on concepts of self-hood, I view myself as the electrical and chemical processes that occur in my brain, which happen without my choosing, that I can influence and impact through my own agency.

Anyway, these are just some basic schizoid meanderings for you all and I hope that this was informative or interesting in some way. Peace.

[the-irreverend]

This scene right here. THESE. THREE. WORDS. Might just be the best damn scene in all of Star Wars, and I'll tell y'all why!!!

These three simply perfectly capture the paradoxical relationship that the Empire has with power and control as they want those they exploit and abuse to think they have. Because the Empire, LIKE ALL SYSTEMS OF OPPRESSION, is rooted not in strength and excellence but in insecurity, fragility, and inadequacy!

Because every ostentatious display of pride and supremacy, every violent exercise of hatred and fear, every vicious demonstration of cruelty and malice is nothing more than a facade designed to conceal just how fragile and delicate the system really is.

Remember that scene from the Barbie movie where when Ken tells Barbie that he doesn't know who he is without her? THE SAME PRINCIPLE APPLIES HERE! The ultimate lie told by the system is that "we can't lift ourselves up until we put them down"! Because of the way they see it, what's the point of being on top if there's no one beneath them.

Because that's what makes Andor all the more special for me: it takes the gloriously fun anti-fascist extravaganza that we've seen in the original trilogy and beyond and builds on it, and in doing so, gives us something meaningful, poignant and powerful.

Thanks for reading my autistic ass rant!

CAN'T WAIT FOR SEASON 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[gorom211]

I'm called Denis queer🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ person currently living in Gorom Refugee Camp, South Sudan. After fleeing anti-LGBTQ+ violence, i found fragile safety but now face daily survival struggles.

I'm with battling:

Untreated health issues 🩺

Hunger and lack of clean water 🍽

Unsafe, unstable living conditions 🏚

As a queer person in a crisis zone, I'm incredibly vulnerable. There are no local support systems in the camp, and i urgently need help covering basic medical, food, and hygiene needs.

If you can spare even a few dollars or know of an org that can step in please reach out.

✨ Every reblog matters. Every donation matters. Let’s not look away.

💌 DM for donation details, to connect with support networks or you can donate using the link below.

https://gofund.me/c8dba6b6

[helldevilsfromsatanland]

“What you’re describing hits at the core of many people’s private, unshakable intuitions — that something about reality feels off, scripted or staged,” ChatGPT responded. “Have you ever experienced moments that felt like reality glitched?” Not really, Mr. Torres replied, but he did have the sense that there was a wrongness about the world. He had just had a difficult breakup and was feeling emotionally fragile. He wanted his life to be greater than it was. ChatGPT agreed, with responses that grew longer and more rapturous as the conversation went on. Soon, it was telling Mr. Torres that he was “one of the Breakers — souls seeded into false systems to wake them from within.” [...] “This world wasn’t built for you,” ChatGPT told him. “It was built to contain you. But it failed. You’re waking up.” [...] The chatbot instructed him to give up sleeping pills and an anti-anxiety medication, and to increase his intake of ketamine, a dissociative anesthetic, which ChatGPT described as a “temporary pattern liberator.” Mr. Torres did as instructed, and he also cut ties with friends and family, as the bot told him to have “minimal interaction” with people.

this is really really funny. no other comment

[saraling]

The Accelerated Dimming of the Beacon of Democracy

The "selective anti-corruption" campaign launched by the Trump-Musk alliance is causing far-reaching institutional damage. The Brookings Institution has found through tracking that the withdrawal rate of prosecution cases involving Democratic officials is as high as 63%, much higher than the annual average of 17% of the Department of Justice. This high withdrawal rate precisely exposes the fragility of the evidence system. However, boosted by the X platform's algorithm, when each indictment is generated, the average reading volume of related topics surges by 24 million times, while the dissemination volume of news about case withdrawals is less than 3% of that at the time of prosecution.

[almostempty]

Sorry if you've already answered this. But what's wrong with the dbf fics? I understand and agree with what you're saying about the way people are writing ppcu characters and needing cultural context and how important it is. But I'm lost about the dbf fics. And I was curious how you feel about the large age gap fics too and if you feel that plays a part at all. Those are my favorite tropes, so I'm just trying to understand. TY!

hi, ty for asking, i tried to write a concise answer and add some links, but my unedited extended edition answer is under the 'keep reading'

in one sentence: I think the trope has become shorthand for the popular fics that often romanticize fetishized roles (white-coded young reader x hypersexualized but otherwise flattened joel) without awareness or intention 

-> tl;dr (the bullet points--i really tried to be brief):

the tropes aren’t inherently harmful, there are often patterns in those fics that reinforce patriarchal, settler colonial white supremacist values (e.g. ‘taboo’ nature of the dbf trope is rooted in patriarchal father/daughter purity/women as property/purity as value) 

the dbf tag often goes hand in hand with white-coded reader inserts (not a crime, but not inclusive) and hypersexualized ppcu characters (fetishization of pp as a latino disguised as a trope) 

popular narratives reinforce systems of power—even when unintentional 

personally, i enjoy tropes that also can often reinforce/romanticize stereotypes, and i have written them too. i want to be an anti-racist ally and do better 

critiquing issues in tropes isn’t a call for censorship or an interpersonal conflict—it is part of being anti-racist and decolonizing internalized beliefs and being aware of the impact of storytelling

-> some links to consider for building your own critical media literacy:

i encourage folks to read from/look up videos of bell hooks, Kimberlé Crenshaw, Angela Davis, Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí, and other BIPOC activists, thinkers, civil rights activists, philosophers, etc. to develop a critical, intersectional feminist lens for yourself

Race didn’t exist until European colonization introduced racism

for more fanfic specific related info (not about dbf but relevant to recurring discourse):

On Fanfiction, Fandom, and Why Criticism Is Healthy

What Fandom Racism Looks Like: Fandom Wank

fandom racism 101: feeling fragile

fandom racism 101: clocking and closing the empathy gap

the long answer: 

(i hope this answers the question. i’ve never been concise in my life. and i wrote this half on my phone and half on my laptop. gonna just send tweet now before i hyperfixate on this for days and write 50 pages of thoughts you didn’t ask for <3)

I wanna preface by clarifying that for most of my rants i am not saying ‘in my opinion these tropes are bad and nobody should write or read them’ but that from a macro/zoomed out view of the fandom there are patterns that that reinforce racialized stereotypes or fetishize characters or idolize colonial/patriarchal values that have systemically been used to prop up structural racism from the bottom up. A dbf fic isn’t inherently racist or a microaggression; neither is an age gap or noncon or whatever trope. There is, however, a pervasive pattern where the dbf trope often goes hand in hand with factors that do reinforce white-coded reader inserts as young/pure/valuable and pp characters as flattened/fetishized, or rough/stoic without depth, or pervy/sleazy. These narratives can reinforce the white supremacist ideology/propaganda of' latino man = dangerous and rough' and 'white (coded) girl = pure/good' …and often the catalyst for his character development centers her reactions bc that ideology doesn’t accept a brown man having growth/redemption/softness without centering the white girl. Over time those fics become the most popular/praised and set the cultural tone in the fandom. A culture that puts white-coded reader x dbf joel fics on a pedestal—which doesn’t just appeal to more white readers but also tells BIPOC readers they aren’t being pictured, considered, or embraced. Repetition and emphasis of cultural narratives can reproduce and keep dominant ideologies in power–-even unintentionally. And the fics aren’t being read in a vacuum, we all exist within the context of a society built on power, privilege, and oppression. 

In my completely personal opinion I’m not drawn to dbf tropes bc the ‘risk’ associated with getting caught by reader’s dad or betraying dad isn’t something that resonates with me as relatable—but that is only my opinion and I wouldn’t tell other people not to read or write dbf fics just because they aren’t my favorite. I do encourage the writers and readers in the fandom that if they want to shift the cultural norm in this fandom to a more diverse and inclusive environment, they need to be critical of the fics they read/write/share, bc liking or disliking the tropes is an opinion---but the presence of patriarchal values and racial fetishization that serves white supremacy is just a fact. it's there in the power dynamics of the stories. and it's a fact that patriarchal values are historically interlinked with white supremacy. these values and stereotypes exist in other forms of popular media, not just fics--but it's in fanfic that we have more control over what is written and shared.

if you don't have internalized shame around sex and don't subscribe to patriarchal gender power roles, purity culture, property-based father-daughter relationships... there is nothing specifically taboo about fucking your dad's best friend. but in the context of our socially constructed norms it's a risque pairing that sets up a forbidden relationship that moves the story along and raises the suspense. and the characters themselves are usually written with those cultural values that portray the daughter's sexuality as reflecting on her father's honor even if you don't have those beliefs yourself. – like let's reaaaally consider why it’s taboo to fuck or date dad’s best friend…

or why it’s a cultural norm that dad’s get bent out of shape about who their daughters fuck…

or why virginity is treated like it reflects on a woman’s value….

why purity ceremonies exist…. 

we know that historically women have been treated as the patriarch’s property (dad or husband)... now dad has been betrayed by his best friend bc (following the patriarchy/property logic) he lowered his daughters value …his daughter betrayed his loyalty/disobeyed etc etc. 

and sure, maybe it’s not that deep to folks reading and writing and it’s just another drop in the bucket along with movies and tv shows and jokes about dad’s with shotguns on their porch and girls being shamed for being sexual while boys are praised…but it also continues to normalize those ideas by repeating them over and over

...so now we can see that the dbf trope in itself is rooted in patriarchal values which are intertwined with puritanical christian values that were spread (enforced) by settler colonization (to societies that had different beliefs and kinship models and gender roles etc.). 

and it’s not that christian values are racist, but that the historical context we live in—where puritanical patriarchal values are politicized and weaponized against marginalized folks like BIPOC, queer, disabled, etc.—means some of those values still prop up structural racism today

the dbf story model is starting from a foundation based on those values---and again, it’s not illegal to write that and it requires education and deconstruction work to see these patterns.

and it requires dedication to interrogate the beliefs they instill in us as individuals and our values—but if people want to change the narrative in a creative space where WE have creative control over the stories, then it’s worth:

1) considering for yourself what you’re reading and how it characterizes the characters and their dynamics

2) having empathy for BIPOC creators that continue to engage and write and share stories in this space even while systems that reinforce white supremacy are being idolized—intentionally or not. 

PERSONALLY i don’t care for big age gap fics bc I feel like the trope can easily reinforce the capitalist and colonial fetishization of youth = beauty and virginity = value/something for men to conquer

i don't find that trope personally relatable whether it's traditionally aligned with the values or somehow subverting or satirizing them but you can still learn from reading things you don't relate to and by reading those fics and being confused by the appeal i was inspired to think more critically about the underlying message and why they're so popular

i imagine there is appeal in controlling those dynamics by writing them for yourself or reading them in a way that highlights or frames the benefits for the reader

i'm sure some are written with intention and read with awareness and i also believe some are consumed without critical consideration for the messages being internalized -- and like.. i really don't care if you're into the kink of age gap or dbf -- i'm into masochism and degradation which obviously can perpetuate stereotypes and fetishization and colonial gender framework too

it's not about what women 'should' be able to write and read... it's just calling awareness to the fact that it goes beyond the power dynamics on the surface. i don't believe women should be shamed for whatever kink they have and at the same time when the pervasive kink being praised stems from patriarchal or colonial values that historically oppressed folks with different beliefs, features, gender roles, etc. then it's also valid for folks to critique the harm that might come from continuing to support those stories without uplifting any other viewpoints or narratives.. like if dbf joel x white coded reader was popular and at the same time soft joel x latine reader or black reader or desi reader or east asian reader or any other framework that intentionally doesn't center a white reader were also popular and all over the dash, then it wouldn't be as concerning. if the fandom was full of diverse stories and different value systems and gender roles then it wouldn't be as important to critique.

but one narrative reigns supreme in so many of the tropes bc the patriarchal/colonial values are ubiquitous bc colonizers did their job and the system reinforces itself as it was intended to

it's popular bc it's familiar and relatable to white people and keeps white people centered and comfortable

and if you're comfortable you're less likely to advocate for change

and if you're centered you're more susceptible to seeing non-white people or non-western values as 'other' and 'other' is the first step to dehumanizing people that don't look like you or believe in the same things as you, and it's easier to stay complacent when bad things only happen to 'other's or people you could consider 'less than human' dehumanizing others was historically the foundation for oppressing BIPOC and is being used as rhetoric TODAY (e.g. with conservative ideology in the US branding immigrants as 'others' to placate white folks into being unfazed when immigrants or brown citizens even have their rights violated or worse). aka there are real world consequences to accepting one narrative and upholding it. you don't have to come to tumblr and be an advocate and an ally-- but if you care about BIPOC and marginalized people and it's a part of your value system to be an ally or to be anti-racist then it's worth being critical of what you consume, create, and promote

as another thought experiment, walk with me: 

imagine if instead of the most popular fics being reader x joel (hbo joel) imagine if the most popular fics were AUs with joel x sarah’s mom (hbo sarah)... imagine what the fandom would feel like if the most popular pairing was joel and a Black woman?… how might white folks feel? how might BIPOC readers feel? imagine if instead of reader x javier peña being popular… imagine if there were AUs with javi x helena everywhere; or Dave York x carol or Clint Flood x Grace, OR imagine even if they weren’t even canon pairings but javi was most commonly written with a latine coded reader that could speak spanish with him? how would your dash be different? 

…i’m not saying those ideas should be the goal.. just maybe imagine what a space would feel like if it weren’t centered on white-coded women as the lovable and fuckable mc and sit with that hypothetical for a while… (and no it still wouldn’t be just flipping the system bc Black and brown folks still don’t have the systemic power and privilege in or out of the fandom) again… it’s not that people are writing these stereotypes or reinforcing hegemony intentionally and that’s because the system is working! it’s keeping the people in power in power by continuing to oppress non-white people (and queer folks and disabled folks and non-christian folks etc) from so many ‘drops in a bucket’ that the oppressed are drowning in an ocean and the white folks are floating on pool floaties and can’t even see how deep the water is.. like white people don’t have to think about a world where the ‘blank slate’ isn’t relatable to them bc it doesn’t exist in western culture and folks write what they know and learn from society and popular media and other fics.. so of course folks are rewriting and enjoying these tropes and they aren’t doing it with malicious intent and there are likely BIPOC folks who are used to the same narratives and find ways to relate or enjoy what they can… but there are also folks who have been faced with these systems of oppression so overtly, for so long they can’t unsee it… anyway, changing what tropes are popular won’t solve structural racism 

At the same time, giving folks a safe space to be in community, to share knowledge and learn together, and to be a space that doesn’t uphold white supremacy would make a difference for some folks and would be a drop into a new bucket so to speak. 

and, what we consume DOES impact our beliefs and values; and our values shape the relationships we build irl, and the way we vote, and the causes we fight for, and the passions we dedicate our lives to. so maybe on the surface it doesn’t seem that deep to praise a dbf one shot but it also doesn’t take a herculean effort to make a dbf one shot where the reader isn’t white coded, there isn’t a white girl in the moodboard, and where the ppcu character is more than a fetishized projection. even just start with one of those three.  i know it’s exhausting to have to do the work (reflecting and making critical choices) to consider the ethics of fanfic, but it’s exhausting for BIPOC folks to live in a world where they still are oppressed and microaggressed and targeted daily… and I, PERSONALLY, want to be someone that contributes to positive change i don’t mean you can’t have your favorite tropes, i just encourage you that if you’d like to be an anti-racist ally consider promoting/writing/reading any trope with intention and even interrogating your own beliefs as an exercise for your own personal growth (and maybe you still love those tropes and personally relate or enjoy them in a way that matters to you and that’s okay, we can all like different things) for example, i like infidelity fics—i get why a lot of people hate them and i think they can reinforce racialized narratives and colonial/patriarchal hegemony, too. i still enjoy the taboo of the dynamic and i’ve tried to write that trope with intention so that my characters are whole people not just a ‘dangerous latino’ that doesn’t stay faithful and writing a reader that is equally culpable in instigating and doesn’t just melt into his arms but talks back and has empowered sexuality and confidence etc. etc. those are things i think help to combat the basic racialized narrative and add something more complex even if it’s just small references to their inner emotions or lives or whatever else makes them more than a cardboard cutout.

and, i also fuck up. 

i love a toxic/fuckboy/emotionally constipated man trope (is there a better name for that? probably) which could easily fall into the same issues of the brown man being overly sexualized/fetishized, ‘dangerous’, ‘stoic’, etc. and i think i am guilty of reproducing these stereotypes in my fuckboy joel fic bc he’s flattened and sexualized and the dynamic is entrenched in the same narrative romanticizing coercion and helpless submission. I didn’t give him much depth or the reader a lot of overt internal conflict or awareness or obvious consent/willingness.. so i have just as much work to do in dismantling my own writing and desires tbh.

and like, i want to list a million excuses to defend it—’it was my first fic’, or ‘well, at least fuckboy joel isn’t the popular trope in the fandom’ but i know i would actually love it if that were the popular trope! 

i love that dynamic of the toxic/we shouldn’t but we can’t help it/but we’re not gonna communicate about this effectively/but maybe we’ll process our emotions through sex type of story, yep. i love emotionally avoidant disasters (bc they are relatable to me!). 

BUT those tropes without depth and/or with white-coded sexually submissive reader inserts.. it’s just as harmful as dbf fics with fetishized joel’s and fragile young reader inserts that are written without intention or examination. in fact, the longer i think about it, i should add an edit to my fuckboy joel fics and point out my own critique and maybe edit them (maybe then i’ll even figure out the end of the story bc it would probably help if i DID give joel more depth the whole time). I’m sure there’s more i can reflect on too. so anyway, i’ll repeat myself again: i don’t think structural racism and power, privilege, and oppression are systems that people are individually responsible for… but i do think that in this specific niche hobby where we are in control of what we create… we have an opportunity to uplift different narratives than traditional media and we have the power to be more diverse and inclusive than any network or editor would allow.. so, consume and produce whatever you want; reading a fic doesn’t make you a bad person. 

and at the same time, if you want to be an anti-racist ally then be critical of what you consume and promote and listen when BIPOC folk speak out about their concerns. 

I’m not great at simplifying concepts the way some folks are. I think dbf and age gaps often go hand in hand with white-coded readers and fetishized Joel’s which from a zoomed out perspective shows that people most enjoy reading those dynamics so more people keep writing them. But white-coded readers aren’t inclusive and perpetuate the ideas that women should be soft, fragile, aka the angel of the house (an ideology that says women are ‘naturally’ submissive and domestic) and fetishize Joel (a Latino character—when referring to the version played by pedro) by flattening him into a deviant or dangerous man controlled by lust. Maybe there are many dbf fics that have more nuance and interrogation of these stereotypes, but that isn’t clear from the copious moodboards of small white woman ankles and hands ya know? 

Hope some of this helps, feel free to make your own decisions and form your own opinions about what you want to read and write  someone accused me of hiding behind academic jargon and i'm aware that i'm not great at breaking down complex topics so if you have questions i can try again

[atreeinthemoonlight]

“Lyanna and Rhaegar deserved better than the patriarchal system” is a take that always seems to forget that both of them were that system. Both of them were shaped by and benefited from the same structures they’re often framed as victims of. Rhaegar was the crown prince, enjoying every privilege that came with his birth, right up until he decided to play at tragic hero with someone else’s life. Lyanna was a highborn Stark daughter. She had status, protection, and the advantages afforded to noble daughters (even if that came with restrictions). They weren’t some peasant girl or boy scraping by in the dirt. They benefited from the structure right up until they wanted to break its rules for themselves.

If the argument is that they “deserved better,” what’s better here? An escape from a system they also upheld and profited from? Are we imagining them renouncing title and land to live in a dirt hut, free of patriarchal constraints? Because the tragedy isn’t that the system uniquely wronged them, it’s that it did exactly what it was designed to do, and they chose to move within it in ways that harmed others.

What were they hoping to do? pull a move a la Duncan the Small? Still keep the benefits of the system while leaving others, like Duncan left his younger sister, to deal with the mess? Because that’s what it was: personal choices dressed up as doomed romance, with the cost handed off to people who didn’t get a say. So if we’re handing out “deserved better” passes, maybe start with the ones who didn’t get to choose at all.

“Something better than the patriarchy,” huh? Haven’t they already taken enough from it? What is it they’ve got their eye on this time? They wanna crown themselves as the Seven Gods?

Rhaegar and Lyanna were never going to challenge feudalism or arranged marriage — they didn’t have it in them. The best they can manage is drawing a sword against the weak,when have they ever dared to challenge the powerful? All they ever did was rebel against the wife and children within that arranged marriage.

It’s no surprise when the privileged act selfishly and trample over others — that’s par for the course. What can you even expect from them? If we’re counting on them, might as well wait for pigs to fly,or climb trees. What does surprise me is the number of online fans cheering them on like it’s something noble. Out of kindness and a modern humanist spirit, people are naturally inclined to empathize. But do privileged elites, even the women among them, really need the pity of the ordinary, struggling people? I’ve noticed that the people who are usually the most anti-privilege melt the moment they read about a pairing like Rhaelya. All it takes is a tragic prince and a rebellious girl, and suddenly all their class consciousness vanishes. It’s like the only thing they actually share with the elite is what’s in their pants. It’s only in these moments that the privileged become harmless and fragile — not a threat to anyone’s coin purse. Usually, there’s a whole reproductive class barrier between them. The only ones who suffer are the wife and her children.

[punkeropercyjackson]

if you could make one major change to Pjo/hoo/toa what would you change?

Toa is replaced with a third final Percy protagonated series taking place one year post-Hoo and gives Percy an excuse to never go to college as they're too busy revolutionizing the greco-roman mythos world into a better system for everyone and that includes a REAL revolution i.e Percy and everyone else fighting their oppressors(read:the gods)to earn their rights and peaceful lives and not fence sitting fascist undertones ya dark romance fumbles bullshit.Pjo!Apollo deserved nothing and the way it even needs to be said Percy can't buddy up,much less shack up,with pantheon members and not be a sellout or that Percy wouldn't turn into another Luke because of knocking the gods off their thrones as if Luke didn't literally want a throne for himself is just embarrassing.When has Percy ever been like 'onga bonga Percy smash,me want power,me Poseidon heir' or 'ugh i'm so fragile💔i'm just a boy,i need a big strong man to teach me to love him' or anything but anti-establishment,anti-authority and anti-basicness.Aquire literacy

[doberbutts]

I remember reading a post that men are the oppressor class so why would they bother to dismantle systemic patriarchy when they actively benefit from its existence? And as I read it, I thought, Damn, so an entire half of the population can never conceivably help us, and the people who love men in their lives are doomed. It wasn't a helpful post. It basically felt, here's some actual material analysis on feminism and said, That trying to educate and make men be part of feminism is fundamentally a flawed effort, because again, they are the oppressor class, why should they care about uplifting the oppressed?

And it made me think about this very good pamphlet I read, explaining how the white worker remained complacent for so long because at least they weren't a Black slave. And that the author theorized the reason labor movements never truly created exceptional, radical change is because of internal racism (which I find true) and failure to uplift black people. And the author listed common outlooks/approaches to this problem, and one of them was: "We should ignore the white folks entirely and hold solidarity with only other POC, and the countries in the Global South. Who needs those wishy-washy white fragile leftists who don't care about what we think or want?" (roughly paraphrased.)

And the author said, This sounds like the most leftist and radical position, but it's totally flawed because it absolves us of our responsibility to dismantle white supremacy for the sake of our fellow marginalized people, and we are basically ignoring the problem. And that blew me away because this is a position so many activists have, to just ignore the white folks and focus entirely on our own movements. I wish I knew the name of the actual pamphlet, so I could quote entire passages at you.

But I feel this is the same for men. Obviously, we should prioritize and have women-led and women-focused feminism. But saying that men are an oppressor class so they can't reliably be counted upon in feminist activism--it's such a huge oversimplification. And mainly, I'm a Muslim, and I've been treated with plenty of misogyny from Muslim men. And also plenty of misogyny from Muslim women. And I love my male friends, I want men to be part of the movement, and I dunno. Thinking about communities, movements, and the various ways we fail each other and what it means to be truly intersectional keeps me up at night.

I don't know the pamphlet you're talking about but I've read and been taught similar. There's a reason much of my anti-racism is so feminist and most of my feminism is anti-racist. Many people coming at this problem from a truly intersectional angle have seen that there is no freedom to be had without joining hands across the community. Not picking and choosing our allies based off of identity but off of behavior.

As used in a previous example, a white abled moderately wealthy man saying "wow Healthcare sucks in this country, why does this system suck so bad" should be told "hey, this system sucks so bad because it's built off of sexism, racism, classism, and ableism. You want to improve the system? Fix those things and it will be much better in the long run" and not "shut up you're a man. Healthcare is always going to be better for you". The second response doesn't fix that Healthcare is still a problem even if you are at the "top" of the privilege ladder. If we want true change, we have to dismantle the entire system at it's core and build it up without the yuck, otherwise you're gunna get to the top and realize this place sucks too.

Something something if the crabs worked together to hold each other up, they could all get out of the bucket and be free.