#man versus articles

[manversus]

The Myth of Self-Determination: Unpacking Complex Narratives

The concept of self-determination has long reverberated through the corridors of political discourse, often heralded as a fundamental human right. However, the reality surrounding self-determination is multifaceted and riddled with complexities, myths, and, at times, stark contradictions. This article endeavors to peel back the layers surrounding self-determination and explore notable case studies that illustrate both its promise and pitfalls.

Understanding Self-Determination

Self-determination refers to the right of a people to determine their political status and to pursue their economic, social, and cultural development. It is enshrined in international law, yet its application has often led to contentious debates and conflicts.

Historical Context

Historically, self-determination has played a pivotal role in numerous independence movements, such as the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. The independence struggle, led by figures like Mahatma Gandhi, is often cited as a triumph of self-determination. However, the partition also resulted in significant violence and the displacement of millions, highlighting the darker side of this right (Legal Vidhya).

Contemporary Issues

In today's geopolitical landscape, self-determination continues to manifest in various forms, often intertwined with national identity and ethnic divisions. For instance:

Kosovo's Independence: Following its declaration of independence in 2008, Kosovo's quest for recognition illustrates the contentious nature of self-determination. Despite being recognized by over 100 countries, it remains a point of friction not only within the Balkans but also in international relations (PolSci Institute).

Climate Change Challenges: The case of Kiribati, a Pacific island nation facing existential threats from climate change, underscores the complexities of self-determination in the face of environmental degradation. As climate change threatens their sovereignty, questions arise about the right to self-determine when survival is at stake (Yale Law Journal).

Case Studies Highlighting the Myths and Realities

French Polynesia: The ongoing struggle for autonomy in French Polynesia illustrates how self-determination is often a battle against colonial legacies. Despite calls for independence, the region remains under French control, complicating local aspirations for self-governance (Princeton Encyclopedia of Self-Determination).

Scotland's Independence Referendum: Scotland's 2014 referendum on independence from the United Kingdom serves as a modern reflection of self-determination. The narrow defeat for independence has since fueled ongoing debates around national identity and cultural autonomy (PolSci Institute).

The Austro-Hungarian Empire: The dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the aftermath of World War I was initially seen as a victory for self-determination. However, it also led to significant ethnic tensions and conflicts, illustrating the myth that self-determination always results in peaceful outcomes (PolSci Institute).

Conclusion: A Double-Edged Sword

The narrative surrounding self-determination is undoubtedly complex. While it raises the banner of freedom and cultural identity, it is also fraught with challenges and contradictions. As seen through varied case studies, the realities of self-determination can lead to both empowerment and conflict. Thus, it is essential to approach the concept with a critical lens, recognizing that the path to autonomy is often neither linear nor devoid of obstacles.

References

“The Princeton Encyclopedia of Self-Determination (PESD).” Princeton University, https://lisd.princeton.edu/projects/princeton-encyclopedia-self-determination-pesd. Accessed 14 June 2025.

“Climate Change and Challenges to Self-Determination: Case Studies from French Polynesia and Kiribati.” Yale Law Journal, https://www.yalelawjournal.org/forum/climate-change-and-challenges-to-self-determination. Accessed 14 June 2025.

“Right to Self-Determination Under International Law.” Legal Vidhya, https://legalvidhiya.com/right-to-self-determination-under-international-law/. Accessed 14 June 2025.

“Self-Determination: A Complex and Controversial Right.” PolSci Institute, https://polsci.institute/comparative-politics/self-determination-complex-controversial-right/. Accessed 14 June 2025.

“Self-Determination: A Complex and Controversial Right.” PolSci Institute, https://polsci.institute/comparative-politics/self-determination-complex-controversial-right/. Accessed 14 June 2025.

This exploration into the myth of self-determination reveals a mosaic woven with historical struggles and ongoing contemporary debates, emphasizing the need for nuanced understanding in discussions about autonomy and identity.

[coochiequeens]

These men just don't want to be around kids otherwise they would be the fun uncle, volunteer for Big Brothers and Big Sisters, be ok with dating women with kids and have a good relationship with the step kids. They just think they were entitled to biological offspring.

Amelia Hill

@byameliahillMon 28 Aug 2023 11.00 EDT

Father’s Day is dangerous for Robert Nurden. Childless not through choice but, as he puts it, “complacency, bad luck, bad judgment”, he tries to stay indoors and ignore the family celebrations outside.

But one year, he went for a walk. “I met family after family. There were children everywhere,” he remembered. “It was terrible. Just so painful. So many ambushes and triggers for my anguish.”

There is very little research into men who have not had children, although that is beginning to change. Research by Dr Robin Hadley has found that 25% of men over 42 do not have children – 5% more than women of the same age group.

Half of the men who are not fathers but wanted to be describe a huge grief and isolation from society. Almost 40% have experienced depression and a quarter feel a deep anger

Now 72, Nurden had a sheltered upbringing. Reaching adulthood, there was a lot he wanted to experience. “Having children was a very low priority. I was complacent: I just assumed it would happen,” he said.

It was not until he was in his early 40s that Nurden started to get broody. But by that point, he discovered, women of a similar age had already had children, if they were able or wanted to.

“I went into this 15-year period of not going into relationships or ending relationships quickly because I knew that person wasn’t going to want or be able to have a child with me – or that the relationship wasn’t going to be strong enough to last if we did have a child,” said Nurden.

He said high-profile older fathers breed complacency in ordinary men. “If I’m honest, even when I was in my 50s I believed that it might happen for me. But in real life, the Mick Jagger and Jon Snow-age fathers are actually very rare – and in any case, it’s medically not wise, as regards sperm quality.”

What compounded Nurden’s pain was that there was no public or private discussion about how men feel when circumstance leaves them unable to become fathers.

“There’s lots of publicity, quite rightly, about women and childlessness but men are very mute about this. Married men don’t want to hear it either: I’ve had men with children react with anger, as though they feel threatened, when I’ve tried to talk about my pain,” he said.

“I was mute too until recently, because as I aged, I found the regret grew into a great pain,” he added. “Unlike many other forms of grief, this compounds itself as it gets older: I wasn’t a father but now I’m not a grandfather. When I’m even older, I might find myself entirely alone.”

Nurden has published a book, I Always Wanted to be a Dad: Men Without Children, about his story and that of some other men. “It turns out that there is a lot of pain, regret and sadness out there,” he said.

Hadley, the researcher, is childless because although his wife had wanted children, by the time she and Hadley met, her age meant the risk of having one was too great. “I chose love but that doesn’t make the pain of not having children any less,” he said. “When a close colleague had his first child, I was so jealous that I couldn’t be in the same room as him.”

Being a father is a marker of status in many countries, said Hadley, but not in the west. “While there has recently been a lot more public discussion about how to be a good father, we still don’t have any narrative or celebration about how important it is for men to become a father in the first place,” he said.

Paul Goulden, the chair of Ageing Without Children, said that, along with the lack of public dialogue about becoming a father, he was “not convinced that there’s this Game of Thrones genetic push felt by men to have children”.

Instead, he said: “There’s this mistaken belief that men are fertile across their lifespan, so there’s no imperative to get on with it.”

That complacency persists because men without children historically have not spoken about their grief. But, Goulden said: “I hope Robert’s book will trigger a change in public dialogue around this issue. I think there’s an overwhelming sense of loneliness and fear out there about who is going to be there for these men, when they’re old and all alone.”

I wonder what their exes for these men would about them. Because the bar for Father's is so low that women showing they didn't want kids with them should really be a sign to do some soul searching.

Personal experience.......I think of my ex fiance who constantly said he wanted ro get married and have kids. However his actions said he wanted me to have the kids while he worked full time, he didn't believe in daycare so no job for me, and he would have to go to the gym almost everyday, he had a physically demanding job, and of course have his weekly card night with his buddies. And yes I stated all my objections but he had tunnel vision when it came to his fantasy family life. There's more but those were the issues relevant to this article.

[emphasisonthehomo]

♥ for the intimacy prompts

♥: Reacting to the other one crying about something

Mild spoilers for my favorite Soviet film, A Cruel Romance (Part One, Part Two) that I've pretentiously made Tommy watch. It's got English subtitles. Go have a bad time :)

•

Tommy’s got a soft heart.

It’s not immediately obvious, and Buck knows that’s on purpose. Tommy tends to hold his emotions close, especially the more tender ones. He’s quick to smile and quick to laugh, but anything deeper gets kept under lockdown for the most part. At this point, Buck can usually pick up on them anyways. He knows what micro expressions mean what, knows when that depth in Tommy’s eyes means he’s genuinely sad, versus just a little upset.

The only time Tommy doesn’t bother trying to hold it back is when he’s watching a movie. And Tommy watches a lot of movies. Buck doesn’t. He’s got to be really interested in order for it to catch and keep his attention for that long. It’s usually documentaries that do that, not the huge catalogue of romances that Tommy’s got.

As a result, they do a lot of what Buck jokingly started calling their version of ‘parallel play.’ Buck will sit on the couch with his laptop or phone, half paying attention to whatever’s on TV, and Tommy will snuggle next to him and pay rapt attention to the screen. Sometimes, if it’s clear the movie isn’t holding Tommy’s attention either, Buck can talk him into making out hot and heavy and then fucking on the couch. It’s a great system.

It also means that Buck gets to see Tommy’s soft heart on display at least once a week.

“Uh. Tommy?” Buck asks gently, deciding that the article on the Bird Man of Alcatraz he was reading could wait.

Tommy’s sitting on the couch, throw pillow clutched to his chest, tears streaming down his face. He’s not quietly crying either. He keeps sniffling loudly, his breath hitching with each inhale. He’d been watching a deeply boring period romance tonight, in Russian with subtitles and everything. Buck doesn’t always have the patience for subtitles even if he’s interested, and this two-and-a-half-hour slog definitely wasn’t interesting.   

“Ye-ah?” Tommy responds distractedly, eyes still fixed on the TV.

Buck hasn’t been paying any attention. There’s a flock of birds in the air, and what looks like a group of people dancing on top of a boat in the fog, while upbeat music plays. Nothing worthy of tears, so clearly he missed whatever that was about.  

“Good movie?” Buck hedges, closing his laptop.

“Uh-” Tommy reaches up and scrubs at his cheeks with the meat of his palm, before nodding, “-Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Not sure if it’s worth a re-watch, but it was good? The end was… well not really shocking. There was a literal Chekhov’s gun.”  

“Good,” Buck says, putting his laptop on the coffee table and sliding his arms around Tommy shaky shoulders, “Maybe you should take a break from the Russian stuff, it’s all sad.”  

Tommy huffs out a laugh and sniffles again.

“Yeah,” He says quietly, knocking his head against Buck’s, “Maybe.”

[pinknatural]

After googling “what to take to a stranger’s birthday party” and reading the top five articles thoroughly, the first two more than once, Castiel has determined that he should either bring candles, wine, or baked goods. 

A candle seems like a good, safe option, but the Walmart candle aisle is overwhelming. How is he supposed to know if Anna’s-friend-Dean likes oaky, woodsy smells versus lavender-linen smells? Castiel likes the one that smells like a waxy apple pie, but who’s to say that opinion is shared? What if he prefers pine, or something called Deep Twilight Mist? Castiel removes the lid for Deep Twilight Mist and smells the cream-colored wax curiously. It smells like the perfume Hael used to spray everywhere when she was eleven. He puts it back on the shelf. 

There’s a candle that smells like cupcakes. It is a birthday party, so perhaps he would like that. Castiel puts it in the blue plastic basket dangling from his arm, then puts it back on the shelf, tilting it so the label is facing perfectly outward. Maybe Anna’s-friend-Dean doesn’t like candles at all. 

Wine. Everyone likes wine. Well, unless Anna’s-friend-Dean is one of those guys who thinks wine is too feminine. Or if he doesn’t drink at all. Or if he drinks too much. Or, perhaps even worse, if he’s some kind of wine connoisseur and will mock Castiel for buying reasonably-priced wine from Walmart and then blacklist Castiel so thoroughly that he will never find a friend in this town. 

Wine and candles are too complex. But everyone likes baked goods. 

Castiel is stopped in the middle of the road, turn signal blinking to indicate that he would like to turn left into his apartment complex, when he realizes that Anna’s-friend-Dean could be diabetic. But the party is at a restaurant that specializes in hamburgers, so probably not. Hopefully not. All Castiel has to do is successfully implement chocolate chip cookies and then melt into the walls at the party. Be pleasant enough company that next time someone has a large event they allow Anna to invite him again. Go to enough social functions that he can claim to have friends and get Anna off his back. Live quietly, working at the Gas-N-Sip and writing papers about the science of Theology and perhaps even going to the library and reading secular fiction.

Castiel has no expectations of finding actual friendship at Anna’s-friend-Dean’s birthday party. Or ever, really. If he ever gets lonely, he can get a cat.

Anna thinks that Castiel and Dean will get along very well. Castiel thinks that living outside of their mother’s influence has made Anna believe in fairytales. Anna has known Castiel his entire life. She knows full well that he has never gotten along very well with anyone. 

Castiel cracks an egg over the batter. Maybe this whole baking thing will impress Anna so much that she’ll stop bothering him about making friends. 

Who knows, maybe these cookies will unlock something else to add to Castiel’s quiet life. He quite likes the idea of baking.

--

The firefighter is very beautiful. Maybe even the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, besides models on the sides of buildings who look so perfect they’re fake.

“You the guy who started the fire?” the beautiful firefighter asks. He puts his hands in his pockets. Castiel’s cheeks burn. Not from any fire. 

“They were just burnt cookies,” he says. “I didn’t know they would set off the smoke alarm.” In the entire building. The other firefighters are by the doors, writing things down, talking to other residents of Castiel’s building. How come the beautiful firefighter was the one who had to talk to Castiel? He sneaks a peek at the man’s arms, but they’re sadly covered by his coat. 

“You burned the cookies on purpose, then?” the firefighter raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course I didn’t,” Castiel says. The firefighter has green eyes and freckles splashed across his nose. Castiel wants him to take off his helmet so he can see what his hair looks like. 

“Right,” the firefighter says. 

“Am I in trouble?” Castiel asks. 

“No,” the firefighter says. He winks. Castiel feels his heart literally skip a beat. “Not a crime to burn cookies. Losing out on the cookies is punishment enough.”

“They weren’t for me,” Castiel says. “They were for a birthday party. Tonight.” For some reason, he wants the firefighter to know that he has a social life. Never mind if the social life was enforced upon him by his older sister.

“A birthday party? Today? Who’s hosting? I gotta fight for my honor.”

Castiel is baffled. What honor? What fight?

“What?”

“Everyone will come,” the firefighter says. He makes a pose, as if he’s flexing. “To see me and this other guy fight to see who’s the Supreme Birthday Boy.” He stretches one arm out, pointing it to the sky, then he opens his fist. “Pow! It’ll be me, of course.” He turns to look back at Castiel. His mouth is very pink. Castiel wishes he understood what words were coming out of it. 

“It’s my birthday, too,” the firefighter says after a moment, when Castiel doesn’t react.

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I dunno. Trying to be funny, I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel says again. Behind the firefighter, he sees that the other residents of his apartment building are filing back inside. For some reason, despite the January chill, Castiel doesn’t want to go back in. Not yet. 

“You know, usually this is the part where people say happy birthday,” the firefighter says. 

“Happy birthday,” Castiel repeats. 

“Thanks!” the firefighter beams. “So do you think I should crash your friend’s party tonight?”

“No,” Castiel says, alarmed at the thought. A firefighter, and probably a bunch of other firefighters, crashing Castiel’s opportunity to stand beside the wall, holding a cup of sprite? When Castiel shows up with store-bought baked goods? And this beautiful firefighter will point right at him and say that Castiel invited them and then Anna’s-friend-Dean will hate him forever, and probably Anna will too? “Also, he’s not my friend.”

“He’s not? Then why are you going to his party?”

“He’s my sister’s friend,” Castiel explains. “I’ve never met him. She thinks I need to leave the house more.” Too late, Castiel remembers that he was supposed to pretend he had a flourishing social life. Oops. 

“Wait,” the firefighter says. His eyes sparkle. “Are you Anna’s brother? Cas-something?”

“Castiel,” he says, with the patience of someone who has had to explain his name a million times. He narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?”

“Dude,” the firefighter says, laughing. “I’m Dean.”

Anna’s-friend-Dean is a beautiful firefighter, with green eyes and freckles? Anna’s-friend-Dean is the Supreme Birthday Boy? Anna’s-friend-Dean probably has very muscular arms, under his uniform?

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” the firefighter says. 

“Winchester! Wrap it up!” one of the firemen calls from the truck. Castiel realizes that all the firefighters are about to leave, and everyone from his building is already back inside. When did that happen?

“Be there in a minute!” Dean hollers over his shoulder. When he looks back at Castiel, he grins almost shyly. “You were gonna make me cookies?”

“Yes, I--I thought it would be an appropriate thing to bring.” Castiel wonders again if Dean could be diabetic. Or perhaps allergic to something in chocolate chip cookies. Are chocolate chips made in a peanut-free facility? Maybe Castiel should’ve bought wine, after all.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says. “Whoever said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was dead-fuckin’-on. But, uh.”

“But?” Castiel is sure, suddenly, that Dean is about to reject him and tell him not to come to his birthday party after all. Which would be a shame, because all of a sudden Castiel wanted to go.

“My favorite dessert is pie,” Dean says like a confession. 

“Oh,” Castiel says, eyes widening. Maybe he can swing by the bakery--maybe he can look up a bakery, and then swing by it--on the way to the party. Assuming he’s still going. 

“And, uh, not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty mean one. I actually made myself a birthday pie, and I was gonna eat it alone, but maybe…I mean…”

“Yes?” Castiel asks. Dean is slightly taller than him, so he tilts his head back to meet his eyes. Dean swallows. Castiel watches his adam’s apple bob.

“Well, I could swing by after my shift is done,” Dean says. “Bring it with me. We could share. Before we go to the Roadhouse, I mean. If you want.”

“I want,” Castiel says before he can think about it. He snaps his mouth shut. Dean brightens. 

“Great,” he says. “I’ll be back. After my shift.”

“When does it end?” Castiel asks. Dean looks at his watch. He grins at Castiel, tongue poking between his teeth.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. 

“Okay,” Castiel says. “I will you soon, then.”

“Yep,” Dean says. “Gimme about an hour, okay? And then we’ll have pie.” 

“Okay,” Castiel says. Dean turns to head back to the firetruck. “What kind of pie?” Cas calls after him. Dean turns. 

“Apple!” he calls. Castiel stands outside, in the January chill without his coat, for a long while after the truck leaves. What a strange man, making his own birthday pie. What a lovely man, sharing it with a stranger. Supreme Birthday Boy, indeed.

--

When Dean returns, in a soft flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing his magnificent forearms, his hair a spiky mess that Castiel wants to run his fingers through, he has, as promised, an apple pie. And Castiel has a present for him. 

When Dean opens it, he laughs until he almost cries. He lights it right away, and the lingering aroma of burnt chocolate chip cookies is chased away by the apple pie candle from Walmart, a bright, steady little flame flickering between them.

(ao3)

[gacha-incels]

“Arknights/Limbus Company/etc is obviously very political, why are these incels playing it?” Here’s a longer answer if you’re interested.

If you haven’t been watching gacha communities for the past decade this might be confusing to you, but these guys see the games as just apolitical stories with a majority or all-female cast being there to titillate the male viewer. They are for his consumption. It’s why in both eastern and western “gacha game” communities you can see them talking about how these games are better for having “beautiful” anime women versus the hideous hags of western media. I’ve seen so many people asking “how are incels playing a game with so many strong female characters?” They see them not as “strong female” characters but rather “eyecandy made for me”. tbh when it comes down to it I wouldn’t call any of the designs in these games absolutely groundbreaking for the anime genre they’re aiming for. Arknights even follows the standard “fully animal faced-guy” and the female equivalent “small featured anime animal girl with some fur”. This doesn’t mean the designs are bad or you’re foolish for enjoying them of course, there are a lot of fun ones. Anyway, you can see the same sentiment in the majority of anime communities as well. Like do you think that stereotype of an anime nerd who “loves 2D women but hates 3D women” means he’s a feminist because the 2D girl is still female?

To be frank, after some of the actions taken by these companies (ex. the firing of women for posting anything vaguely feminist) can you honestly say an “apolitical game with anime babes” is not the way the games are often enjoyed? The company Yostar who publishes Arknights in Korea literally wrote a statement saying the game is apolitical and calling feminism a dividing force. If the publisher can say something so flippantly like this just to appease their incel fanbase, how can the game be making any meaningful, hardline progressive political statements? I am of course not saying this renders any positive message you get from these games moot nor am I saying it’s impossible for the writers to be passionate about their work, I’m just relaying the thoughts of the incels/“gacha gamers” playing them because there seems to be confusion. What I’m writing here doesn’t mean the worst interpretation of these games are their defining interpretations. I’m trying to explain how the games that many people see as being antithetical to incel beliefs can have these same men as high-spending fans.

Gacha games are unique in the world of consumer media in their extremely close and constant relationship with the consumer. You have to not only love each character’s design (and sometimes story) but also be willing to drop serious gambling money to “buy” them every single month. It’s like merchandizing on steroids. I think the term “whale” has been watered down since younger kids have started playing, but these people spend thousands per patch. Over the years I’ve heard about multiple games like this being sustained by just a couple of high spenders. In 2018 there was even a western news article about a man who had spent $70k+ on FGO. The publisher can’t rock the boat too much to displease the consumer too many times without risking EoS. Every character design and story of a gacha game is affected by this FIRST while any artistic intent comes second.

A Korean woman who had lost her job due to similar “feminist hunting” tactics wrote an article describing the way these incel men think. I posted it here and part of it summarized: the men that play these games see themselves as buying and “owning” the female characters in gacha games, who are often dressed and presented to them in a highly sexualized manner and will obey their commands. In the same way they “own” these 2D women, they also want to own the thoughts of the real live female illustrators who work on the games. Therefore, if these women have expressed ideas that the male gamers find upsetting, they will be angry she doesn’t conform to what they want like the servile 2D girl and do everything to get her fired (this is where she mentions Limbus Company as the most recent example of this happening).

You can argue for some of these games, maybe the girls aren’t dressed super provocatively and give (you) shit instead of being a simpering doll, but in the end it’s not like they can physically walk away or stop speaking to you. For the “waifu” hunter guy it’s just a different type of anime girl to collect.

The stories in these games are generally not what gets targeted as much by incels. In gacha “gamer” communities, especially the Korean incel ones, their main concerns are: how revealing are the summer swimsuits? How many women work for the company designing characters? and related, Are the male characters designed for women or for men and do they “look gay”? If you search through this blog, you can see them directly speaking about these things in regards to their hatred of Genshin Impact and Star Rail. All of these have also been encapsulated in the original Limbus Company incel attack: they hated that the summer female character looked more “clothed” (wearing a skintight suit instead of a bikini) than the male summer character. They thought the collar necklace and open shirt on the male summer character meant he was “a slave” for the female viewers, so obviously it was designed by a woman. When they learned a man designed and illustrated those characters, they searched to find a female illustrator who worked in the game and went after her instead. These guys WERE FANS that played the game beforehand and didn’t think anything in the story was upsetting enough to attack the company about. They were familiar enough with the works of Project Moon to name their little group after an antagonizing force in one of PM’s previous (non-gacha) videogames. And Project Moon saw them as such a significant part of their gacha fanbase that they wrote an immediate apology and fired the artist. How do these actions in reality inform their fiction and the interpretation of it? Getting this out of the way, they were NOT in any danger, the “fans” were not clamoring to get in their offices or camping outside, they were let in and calmly had a meeting with some employees at the office. You can still find photos of them goofing around, the ridiculous write up they brought with them and a transcript of the conversation. This was not a “guy shows up at Mihoyo’s offices with a knife” situation. In the end it was a financial and moral loss for the studio with many new and longtime fans completely dropping the games and Limbus Company taking one of the biggest financial and D/MAU drops for a gacha I’ve ever seen. You can read more regarding the ramifications of this here, this post is already pretty long for this website anyway.

Again I’m not writing this to shame anyone who plays these games, loves their characters or enjoys their stories. I don’t really care either way, and I obviously find the genre interesting or else I wouldn’t have been monitoring it and the fans for a decade. I just want to shine a light on the thoughts of the more “incel” gamers that play some of these games since I have seen a lot of genuine confusion as to why they would play them. In the future my aim is to write a more in-depth post about these issues, their history and the way antifeminists think.

[sukirichi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 | 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐉𝐎

+ contains swearing, teasing. rugby player! togame & cheerleader! reader. fem! reader. fluff n romance. implied size difference. REALLY HUGE TOGAME URGGHH (i talk about his muscles a lot) + inspired by this lovely fanart of rugby player togame! | divider from @/saradika-graphics <3

The sun shone high in the sky today, its heat pushing down on your skin-tight clothes. Around you, the crowd cheered, their screams and hollers nearly deafening as everyone stood at the edge of their seats for the game. Adjusting your cheerleading uniform, you smoothed out the pleats of your skirt and lifted your head high. Today was a big game, and the air buzzed with anticipation for this season’s most awaited event – the rugby team of Bofurin versus Shishitoren, a team known for their formidable players and aggressive tactics.

With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you make your way to the field, the familiar rush of pre-performance nerves and excitement coursing through you.

The crowd was already gathering, and you could hear the distant roar of fans cheering and chatting animatedly. You looked around, soaking in the energy, and your eyes landed on the Shishitoren players – your university’s greatest opponent – as they warmed up on the opposite of the field.

That’s when you saw him. Togame Jo.

Togame was impossible to miss – standing tall with his dark hair and imposing build. Even from a distance, his presence felt commanding. His muscles bulged with each stretch, the stretchy material of his shorts doing little to conceal the thick, powerful cords on his thighs. You’d heard about him before from your friends and read articles about his impressive plays (mostly because your university’s paper seemed to have a love-hate relationship with the man.) And, well, you couldn’t blame them. Jo was the kind of player who could change the course of a game with a single move.

His green eyes, striking even from afar, seemed to pierce through the chaos of the field, making him look even more intimidating and captivating.

Aside from the articles, you’d also heard… good things about him. Things that were whispered in the cheerleaders’ lockers room like how he was a charmer, and that half of the audience in the bleachers who didn’t come to watch Umemiya arrived for Togame instead.

“Ladies, we ready?” called out your cheer captain, snapping you out of your trance. You nodded, joining your squad as you prepared for your routine.

You couldn’t help but glance back at Jo. He was in the middle of a drill, moving with a fluid grace that belied his massive frame. You felt a flutter in your chest then – admiring the almost lackadaisical way he carried himself, and still moved with grace. Each time he stretched, the crowd would cheer and scream his name. He’d simply smirk to himself – which shouldn’t look as handsome – and lift a hand to the crowd, before resuming his routine.

Great. Confident without being cocky; just your type.

It was a shame he was on the opposing team. You really would’ve wanted to cheer for him instead.

As the game began, you launched into your cheers, your voices blending with the crowd’s roars. Every now and then, your gaze would drift to the dark-haired man. He was incredible to watch, a force of nature on the field. His tackles were precise, his runs powerful, and it was clear why he was a key player for Shishitoren. So this was the infamous opponent of Umemiya, your university’s most beloved forward.

During a break in the game, you finally performed your main routine. The adrenaline surged through you as you executed your moves flawlessly, the crowd’s cheers roaring loud. As you wrapped up, you caught Jo watching you, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was sat on the bleachers, his long hair messed up and tangled, the dark locks plastered on his skin with sweat. Still, he couldn’t have looked more beautiful – even with a bloody nose.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away, hoping you hadn’t been too obvious in checking him out. Jesus, you thought, even his uniform looked small on him. He was just that massive.

When the halftime whistle blew, you made your way off the field, passing by Shishitoren’s bench. Your heart began to pound as you approached, and then, as if the universe had conspired to align your paths, Jo stood up and stepped forward.

“Hey,” he called out, his masculine voice deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, plastering on your best cheerleader smile – which failed. Togame towered over you, his hulking frame nearly blocking out the sun behind him. And he smelled like sweat, grass, and clean soap – a scent that was both so boy and addicting.

“Yes?” you replied, surprised that your voice was steadier than you felt.

“You were amazing out there,” Jo said, his striking green eyes locking onto yours. Then, he turns his head to the side, lightly scratching at the back of his neck as he mumbled, “Can I get your number?”

You hesitated for a moment, fighting back a laugh as a mischievous grin crept up to your face. “Sure,” you said, “I’ll give it to you if you win.”

Togame’s eyes lit up with determination, one of his brows cocking up. “You mean when I win,” he corrects, smirking, and you can’t stop yourself from biting your lip at the way his chest puffed out. “You make it too easy for me, Princess, but a deal’s a deal.”

A thrill of excitement surges through you. You nod in agreement, watching as Jo turns and jogs back to his team. They greet him with teasing smiles and a pat at his back, knowing full well their teammate would be unstoppable now that you’ve motivated him. It made you almost feel bad for Umemiya – almost. Bofurin’s Golden Boy had no idea what was coming his way.

The second half of the game was intense. Jo seemed to play with renewed vigor, his every move calculated and powerful. You cheered louder than ever, caught up in the energy of the game and the promise you’d made.

As the final minutes ticked down, Shishitoren was ahead by a single point. The tension was hard to ignore, and every eye was on the field. With one last surge, Jo effortlessly broke through Bofurin’s defense and scored the winning try. The crowd erupted in cheers, their screams echoing and the bleachers vibrating with each stomp. You couldn’t help but join in the celebration – ignoring the way your friends eyed you suspiciously. Bofurin had lost, after all – something the white-haired rugby star, Umemiya, took with grace.

As the teams shook hands and the crowd began to disperse, you made your way to the edge of the field. Jo was quick to spot you and jogged over, a triumphant smile on his face.

“So,” he said, slightly out of breath but still exuding confidence, “Can I get your number now?”

You laughed, pulling out your phone and handing it to him. “A deal’s a deal, and I don’t intend to back out on my word. Not when you played so good out there,” Grinning, Jo entered his number and hands your phone back to you, his fingers brushing against yours. The briefest contact is enough to make sparks shoot down your hands, and your smile widens, gazing up at his bloodied (and slightly bruised) handsome face.

“Thanks,” he says, his smile softening. His eyes are bright with his victory, but they remain soft as he watches you pocket your phone back to your jacket. “So… I hope you don’t forget me when you return to your university. Wouldn’t want you to be too shocked when I suddenly text you.”

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “Well,” you begin, drawing out the moment. “Since you played so well… I suppose you can take me out someday.”

Jo’s grin widened, the sight of it spreading warmth through you. “Wait, you’re serious?” at your nod, he laughs to himself, his hands planted on his hips before he runs them through his hair. “Shit. Okay, uh, how about tomorrow evening?”

Your eyes widen. “Don’t you have after-parties or something?”

“Yeah, but I can’t wait,” he admits, red tingeing his cheeks. “And I really want to take you out before you drive back to your uni. If that’s – that’s something you’re cool with, of course. I’m all bloodied and banged up so I might not be the most dashing for a first date–”

Heart fluttering in excitement, you stood up on your tiptoes and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his warm cheek. Jo stiffens underneath you. Or to be more accurate, the man stops breathing completely, though his back bends just the slightest to help you kiss him better. “I’d love to go on a date with you,” you reassure him, and step back with the most innocent smile. “And for the record, blood and all–” you gesture to his face, trying not to laugh at his wide-eyed expressions, “–You’re still the most good looking guy on the field.”

Your compliment snaps him out of his stupor, and Jo laughs, a hand clutching his belly. “You flatter me too much, Princess. Pretty sure Umemiya’s the most attractive player here. Did you hear how much everyone went crazy for him?”

Snorting, you roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, but I rather liked the opponent flanker better.”

Togame bites the inside of his cheek, his mouth opening to say something when your cheer captain suddenly calls for you. You watch as his face falls before it masks into adoration, his eyes softening when you reluctantly step back. “Tomorrow it is, then,” you confirm, a hint of promise lingering in the air.

As you parted ways, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, your heart pounding like you’d won the game. In a way, you did win. Meeting Jo had been a surprise, but it felt like the start of something new, something special. The game, the crowd, the cheers – it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the promise of what tomorrow could hold.

[maintitle]

I do not care about the solavellan favoritism. Given the set-up of the game, I'd be mad on behalf of Solas romancers if there wasn't a bit of favoritism for them.

What I care about is the over-emphasis on that romance in an article that cuts and dashes peoples love of other romances while also dashing the state of the world your choices built. I care that Iron Bull and Blackwall romancers now are in a state of limbo. I care that no romance from before DA:I even exists anymore, in the eyes of this game. I care that my favorite fictional character, whom I played a man to romance, is being confirmed as heavily involved with the game, but seemingly robbed of all context of her life's story. I'm mad that a necessary culling of choice has turned into a wilfire that has left only three survivors, and yes I'm a little annoyed that the one very well fed group in all these changes is the most popular straight romance.

This whole thing is frustrating as hell and it hurts a lot of people to know that their choices don't matter and that their favorite romances are either lessened or gone, and that their favorite OC's are basically non-existent in the mind of this game. So please don't turn this into a fandom versus solavellan issue, because it's not about solas, it's about how a huge fraction of the fanbase is sleeping on the couch while one romance specifically is sleeping in the bed.

[manversus]

The Future of Israel: Geopolitical Implications and Regional Tensions

The ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas has ignited a renewed focus on the geopolitical landscape of the Middle East. As of 2023, the events surrounding Gaza have raised critical questions about the future of Israel's existence and its implications for regional stability. This article explores the current situation, examining the historical context, the role of international actors, and the potential scenarios that could unfold by 2030.

Historical Context

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict has deep roots, dating back to the early 20th century. The establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, following the Holocaust and World War II, marked the beginning of a tumultuous relationship with neighboring Arab states and the Palestinian people. Over the decades, multiple wars, uprisings, and negotiations have failed to produce a lasting peace.

In recent years, tensions have escalated dramatically. The surprise attack by Hamas on October 7, 2023, marked a significant escalation, resulting in widespread violence and loss of life. This conflict not only affects Israel and the Gaza Strip but also reverberates throughout the Middle East and beyond.

Current Geopolitical Landscape

Regional Tensions

The 2023 Israel-Gaza conflict has heightened existing tensions with Iran and its proxies. Iran's backing of Hamas and its involvement in regional power dynamics complicate the situation. Analysts suggest that the potential for a wider conflict exists, drawing in neighboring countries and even global powers (SpecialEurasia).

- Potential for Regional Conflict: The risk of a broader regional war involving Iran and its allies remains high. Should Iran escalate its support for Hamas, it could provoke retaliatory actions from Israel and its allies, notably the United States.

International Responses

U.S. foreign policy plays a crucial role in shaping the future of the region. Under President Biden, the U.S. has faced the difficult task of balancing its support for Israel while addressing humanitarian concerns in Gaza. This balancing act is further complicated by the ongoing conflict in Ukraine and domestic pressures (BFPG).

- U.S. Support for Israel: Historically, the U.S. has been a staunch ally of Israel, providing military and financial assistance. However, recent events have sparked debates within the U.S. about the extent of this support, especially in light of humanitarian crises.

Future Scenarios

Predicting the future of Israel by 2030 involves considering various scenarios based on current trends:

1. Continued Conflict: The most likely scenario is the continuation of cycles of violence. Without a significant shift in diplomatic efforts, the status quo may persist, leading to periodic escalations in violence.

2. Diplomatic Resolutions: A potential, albeit optimistic, scenario involves renewed diplomatic efforts leading to a two-state solution. While this would require significant concessions from both sides, international pressure and changing regional dynamics could facilitate this outcome.

3. Increased Isolation of Israel: Should the international community impose sanctions or isolate Israel due to its military actions, the nation's geopolitical standing could diminish. This could lead to challenges in its security and economic stability.

Conclusion

The question of Israel's existence and stability by 2030 hinges on a complex interplay of regional tensions, international relations, and the willingness of both Israeli and Palestinian leaders to engage in meaningful dialogue. The risk of escalation remains high, and the potential for a broader conflict involving major powers is a looming threat.

As the world watches, it is imperative for global leaders to advocate for peace and stability in the region. A balanced approach that considers the rights and aspirations of both Israelis and Palestinians may yet hold the key to a sustainable future.

References

1. "Understanding the Current Conflict: Israel, Gaza, Lebanon, and Iran", PetroMonk, [https://www.petromonk.com/blog/understanding-the-current-conflict-israel-gaza-lebanon-and-iran](https://www.petromonk.com/blog/understanding-the-current-conflict-israel-gaza-lebanon-and-iran), Blog, Accessed 25 May 2025.

2. "Multiple Analysis of the Israeli Palestinian Conflict", SpecialEurasia, [https://www.specialeurasia.com/2023/10/30/israeli-palestinian-conflict/](https://www.specialeurasia.com/2023/10/30/israeli-palestinian-conflict/), Article, Accessed 25 May 2025.

3. "The Geopolitical Consequences of the Israel-Hamas War", BFPG, [https://bfpg.co.uk/2023/10/geopolitics-of-israel-hamas-war/](https://bfpg.co.uk/2023/10/geopolitics-of-israel-hamas-war/), Analysis, Accessed 25 May 2025.

4. "The Impact of the Israel-Hamas Conflict on U.S. Foreign Policy", The Diplomat, [https://thediplomat.com/2023/10/impact-of-israel-hamas-conflict-on-us-foreign-policy/](https://thediplomat.com/2023/10/impact-of-israel-hamas-conflict-on-us-foreign-policy/), Article, Accessed 25 May 2025.

5. "Gaza and the Implications for Israel's Security", Middle East Eye, [https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/gaza-implications-israel-security](https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/gaza-implications-israel-security), Article, Accessed 25 May 2025.

[multiheadcanons]

BLU STREETWEAR

scout: a long sleeve shirt with thumb holes chewed into them, and a solid t shirt over that. occasionally he will put a jacket or a hoodie over this if it is cold. a pair of joggers, long crew socks, and a pair of platform high top sneakers, the shoelaces wrapped around his ankle three times, and the ends tucked into the shoes themselves. if it’s sunny, he will add a brimmed hat. doesn’t like beanies, so he rarely wears them.

soldier: a simple white t shirt and a pair of neutral colored pants, slacks, or jeans. black or brown leather jacket with an interior faux fur lining over the shirt, and his work boots. he doesn’t own any other shoes than his work boots. they are molded to his feet, and at this point are some of the most comfortable things he owns. helmet stays on unless the team begs him to leave it at home. they think he’s cuter without it.

pyro: their fire suit, but with a ring on every finger. pyro is a big accessorizer. lots of hats, lots of jewelry, lots of purses and bags, lots of stick on gems. they are usually running around with gems glued to the gas mask where their ears assumedly are. those are their earrings. pyro also has a lot of coverups. robes, sweaters, jackets, coats. pyro doesn’t like to take the suit off, but they do like the variety in their looks! it works for them.

demo: black cropped short sleeved turtleneck with an undershirt of various colors and textures. leather jacket, and a pair of sneakers, or a pair of combat boots. the undershirt normally will match his pants, which are usually cargo joggers. he’s got undershirts and this particular style of pants in every color and pattern imaginable, and there is a match for each article of clothing. styled with a thick, structured trench coat in various neutrals and a kooky beanie that doesn’t match anything.

heavy: white, thin long sleeve shirt. a solid shirt, normally blue, placed above it. sleeves left alone regardless of the temperature outside. the pants change, but are usually thick, or freshly pressed denim. he once wore overalls and that freaked everyone out, so those got taken out of the wardrobe. denim jackets that do not get above a cerulean in tone and saturation and leather fingerless gloves, usually left unbuttoned unless it’s cold. if he’s wearing jeans, he will switch to a leather jacket. thick platformed boots. he likes the extra inches. makes his existence funnier. sometimes, he will wear a cap.

engineer: this man goes pretty much everywhere in the same hoodie and jeans he’s owned for the past ten years. it’s the shoes that change. sometimes it’s his work boots. sometimes a ratty pair of sneakers. sometimes a pair of well cared for loafers. sometimes fuzzy dog slippers and socks. underneath the hoodie is normally a short sleeved collared shirt, patterned with odd and silly, almost eye watering designs. or flannel in a variety of colors. has a large sherpa olive green coat for the colder days. his actual outfit rarely, if ever changes, what does is how he wears it. there is a notable difference of him wearing this hoodie slouched, covered in crumbs versus his shoulders rolled back and his characteristic uncaring charisma.

medic: it really depends on the weather. on hotter days, he will opt for a white cotton three quarter sleeve shirt, and a pair of pressed slacks with leather dress shoes. his forearms are usually busting out of the sleeves, and he is already complaining of the heat. in the colder months, he is much more put together, and less bitchy. a dark brown turtleneck, a vest of a complementing color, and wool blend slacks. a thick woolen trench coat above that, and occasionally a cap. has many odd pairs of shoes for the winter. loafers with cutouts, infeasibly fitted boots that look crafted around his legs, none truly made for snow. this has never posed a problem.

sniper: snipes will eat up a little v neck henley and a pair of casual slacks. and you know those buttons are never done and those sleeves are cuffed, come on. he might cuff his pants comically high, even. really just depends on what he’s doing for the day. normally in some sandals. “thongs”, even. he learned very quickly he could not call them thongs around the americans. or any of the team, really. though when he found out what a thong was in america he was quite humored! if it’s cold he’s just wearing his regular shoes, and a vest.

spy: stay with me on this journey, okay? because he’s gonna eat this up, promise. a powder blue crewneck, comically oversized. like 5xl men’s powder blue crewneck layered on top of a silk white button up shirt. he belts it with a wide cognac belt, allowing the rest of the belt to flap however it will. if he’s feeling particularly queer, under this will be a powder blue dominant plaid pleated skirt. he tops this with loafers of his choice. and you know the balaclava stays on.

[threadfall]

On Pernography by Anne McCaffrey – article for Algol Magazine, Issue 33 (Winter 1978-79). (Reprint from Algol Issue 14, Fall 1968.)

Authors and their worlds are fasci­nating, particularly if you are the author concerned. Much as I would like to comply with those readers who would assign a mys­tical origin to the Dragons of Pern, there isn't one. (Read the rest below the cut)

I was casting about me, like Lawyer Peachum in the Beggar's Opera, for a good execution (of a story) for the next Assizes, and a stray thought dwelt overlong on the subject of dragons. Like Doris Pitkin Buck, I have always felt that dragons suffered from a bad press. It occured to me to remedy this distressing situation with a well-meant short story in their favor. Some 160,000 words later I'm still "dragonizing."

It came about in this wise: so dragons fly? Why? And why fire-breathing dragons? Gotta be a reason. A menace? That's it, a menace only dragons can combat. Great. But dragons as big as mine were looming in the authorial eye would be difficult to manage unless . . . . ah ha . . . telepathic dragons, mind-linked at hatching to men … dragonmen … dragonriders. Now there's a name with charisma in gobs. Ah ha ha! Yeah, but why? Hmmm. Dragons flying, breathing fire … think up something that ignites on contact with oxygen . . . mad dash to science library. Ah ha. Phosphines. Air-borne, telepathic, fire-breathing dragons menaced by what? Something also airborne. Large inimical creatures? Nah, too tame. How about a mindless organism? Again ah ha. Space travelling spores … see Arrhenius. On with the story.

The Dragons of Pern are unusual beasts, constructs if ever there were some: they get "impressed" on hatching like ducklings, are telepaths, oviparous but their mating is comparable to bees rather than lizards (although I've never observed saurian habits); dragons are carnivorous but can last eight days, when full-grown, on one full meal, like a camel. They have two stomachs like cows, one for comestibles, one for combustibles.

Actually, dragons don't fly: they only think they do which is how they do it. Even with a boron-crystalline exo-skeleton, dragons have too much mass for their wing-span. They levitate, using wings for guidance, braking and self-deception. True, the fire-lizards from which the Terran colonists devel­oped the Pern dragon could fly: it was their parapsychic abilities that the geneticists strengthened.

Having more or less settled my dragonology, I more forget it and build my the plot structure around the humans. It followed logically, however, that men who could think to dragons would be regarded with considerable awe by their less talented peers. Ergo, an exclusive confraternity, self-immolating, self-sustaining. (I may well have been reading about the Knights Templar at that point, I’ve forgotten, but the social structure of Pern is decidedly feudal with occasional modern-child-rearing overtimes.) F’lar was the epitome of the proper dragonman.

Now introduce an outsider into the Weyr for observation and comparison. It’s more fun to put the sexes so enter Lessa, in Cinderella guise, with sufficient wit and courage not to need the cop-out of a fairy godmother. (I don’t have one, don’t see why she should.)

There are several villains, ‘cause half the fun of writing is the villain: Fax who is greedy, R’gul who is well-motivated but dense, and the Threads which couldn’t care less and therefore are the best variety of menace. (I tend to develop outside influences anyway: I’ve had enough in my lifetime of nation versus nation.) 

The last ingredient was the timing: the dragons were created (by me and Pern) for a necessity–remove that necessity from the memory of living man, and see what happens. We’ve all seen certain customs upended, debased, disregarded, yet at their inception, there were good reasons for them. Why do men customarily place women on their left side? So their sword/gun arm is free . . . or so they can protect women from slops throw out an upper story window. Swords (and guns, god willing) are no longer de rigeur, but the convention/tradition/custom continues: and modern plumbing takes care of the other hazard that initiated the custom. A simple instance, granted, but valid. 

I know a lot more about dragons and Pernese than I’m admitting right now, but I don’t want to spoil the upcoming novel, Dragonflight (Ballantine Books, U6124, 75¢). Pern fascinates me utterly: the dragons are, in essence, mature concepts of the imaginary characters that bore me company in my youth. Or an itch which I can’t leave alone. I am bedraggled. I’ll be glad to answer specific questions on pornography from those interested. – Anne McCaffrey

[vixnovacoda]

Overwhelming the Senses || Chapter 2

Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

*SPOILERS BE WARNED FOR DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN* Taking place during the one-year timeskip, Matthew Murdock is unhealthily coping with recent loss when Lucille Littleton comes into his life, and the two find themselves drawn back to the other despite their tense beginning of their relationship, which is only complicated by Lucille's double life. They must work together, though, if they wish to help the innocent.

Word count: 3.8k Tags (for series): Angst, romance, soft, fluff, soulmates, alternating POVs, some hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, and protective Matt Murdock

[CH1] [CH2] [AO3 version here]

Lucille

Arm in arm. The blind leading the blind. Well, Lucille wasn’t blind, but, with how many drinks they had before leaving the bar, she might as well have been. They were holding onto each other just so they could walk straight. Side by side and splitting stitches in their sides.

    “And that was how I broke into the CEO's office,” concluded Lucille, holding her head up high for dramatic flare.

    “And she’s a criminal!” teased Matt in feigned shock before breaking out into a series of chuckles. He shook his head. “No. Sorry, but I just, I don’t believe it.”

    “Which part? The balloons or the bit about the fax machine?”

    “All of it!”

    Lucille nudged him when he held up his hands with a defensive ‘what’ and a smile like his lawyer stories weren’t just as crazy, as the alcohol drove another bout of laughter through their throats in that way where even breathing was the funniest thing to have ever happened. They were too drunk to care about the noise they were making. The streets of New York City have seen weirder. Lucille had seen weirder. Hell, she lived it. 

    Running a hand through her short waves, she sighed. “Believe it or not, that act of crime actually got me my first big article since I stopped the war photography gig. Nothing too big, but it was enough to lead to the downfall of Fuller Inc… eventually,” explained Lucille, a somberness twisting at her throat. “So many people were hurt from an entirely preventable accident all because a company was so greedy in trying to cut costs. People tried for years. They spoke and no one heard them. Until, for some, it was too late. Those people were never going to get their lives back, but at least they had a chance.” She retreated into the collar of the coat Matt had given to her earlier and wrapped it tighter around her. It didn’t take a genius to guess the look he gave her when the squeeze of his hand on her arm gave it away. Pity. Understanding. It was almost nice. Completely unnecessary, yet nice.

    “I was there when they got that chance, remember it clear as day. Ringer versus Fuller. You gave them truth, Luce. Jeremy Ringer’s mother wouldn’t have been able to get justice if it wasn’t for you,” remarked Matt.

    She smiled, while modesty tore away her downcast eyes. “Is that why you do what you do, Counselor? Justice?”

    “Well, I don’t do it for the money.”

    “How civic-minded of you.”

    A huff of air escaped from his lips, barely rolling over the stubble that covered his jaw in the way Lucille had begun to recognise to be a short burst of outward joy as his mouth shaped itself into a smile. The self-assured, big brushstroke kind. Kissable even. No.

    Nope. That was the alcohol talking. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

    But her gaze. It wandered all over him. Right from his hard-earned shoes to the red glasses pushed into place against his eyes that she wished he would let it stay fallen, so that she might do more than catch a glance of the man behind the frames. A man she was beginning to think was only visible under the light of the moon, where it played around with lines and creases which dared to show his age like cracks in a worn painting, and seemed to soften him in a way that she wanted to reach out and touch and hold; to see if any of this was real; to see how much he was willing to reveal.

    Which was a dangerous thought experiment. Matthew Murdock was handsome, sure, but he was nice which begat attachment. Attachments broke hearts. And God knew she could barely keep her idle hands to herself.

    Feet were planted and halted. Heels before oxfords. The warmth of Matt’s tight grip leaving her arm as he stood in front of her, resting his weight on his cane, and she stood in front of him and the tall apartment building he called home. All this time, and she hadn’t yet asked the one thing she had on her mind since the beginning, and now she might never get to. Focus damnit, Luce . Matt moved to speak when she blurted, “There’s this story I’m working on, actually. About vigilantes. I’m still figuring it out. But, given the nature of some of the cases you’ve worked on, your expertise is exactly what I need. So.” She ran her hand down her side, smoothing out the dress she wore, which had been slowly riding up her leg in the last hour. The professional taking point and slipping through her vernacular. “So, would you do me the favour of meeting up again soon for an interview?”

    He cocked his head to the side and that face, that smirk, he made her heart flutter. “Are. Are you asking me out on a date, Miss Littleton?”

    “Depends on how well it goes,” answered Lucille, playfully.

    “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure everything goes smoothly,” he responded in kind, stepping ever so slightly closer, and she did not know how much more she could take with his breath wrapping around her throat like a gentle caress that made one want to melt, unbothered by the hardy smell of cheap beer. This close, he could probably taste the same from her breath. After all, he had gotten her drunk on the same bottles he consumed to make up for the (literal) dirty martini she ordered. Mere minutes ago they had even shared the same exact bottle, exchanging sips back and forth without a care for it was the alcohol they enjoyed and the taste of other’s lips they wanted. A part of Lucille wondered if those same lips, if pressed against, would be just as soothing and sweet.

    Or when his hand slid under his coat she still wore, did that same part of her construct fantasies of them going further as he learned the shape of body, committing it to his memory with the utmost care and time, which would leave any woman on the verge. How gentle he seemed. It wasn’t until he took out his phone from the inside pocket and handed it to her for her number, that she realised how weak her knees felt and how her face flushed a deeper shade than her hair. She needed to get a grip, needed to leave before it got out of control.

    “You are something else, Matt Murdock,” declared Lucille with stammering confidence as her thumbs beheld a tremor, typing number after number.

    “And you were… unexpected, Luce Littleton,” replied Matt, the ever chill, ever suave man despite how equally drunk they were.

    She pressed save, sending a text to her number – a reminder for her that she was one step closer – and slipping the device into his suit jacket’s breast pocket. “But not unwelcome, I’d hope,” she said.

    “The exact opposite,” told him.

    She cracked a smile before returning to the embrace of the cold, bitter air as she wrapped his coat around his shoulders, the rushing drumbeat of Matt’s heart betraying his demeanour from beneath her touch while they stood practically face-to-face and when she looked up at him, hers raced in competition, marching to a war drum. Their bodies pressed together in a world of their own under night’s blanket where things were said or done and tossed aside come tomorrow’s call.

    “Would you like to join me inside and move that interview to tonight, Lucille?” softly asked Matt, like he too knew the danger it might bring.

    Don’t, she told herself. Don’t do it, she yelled.

    It took every ounce of whatever sobriety she had retained to fight that instinct. She’d grown to like him more than she cared to admit. Too much to become some… thing that he’d forget in the morning, and too much to complicate things or dare hurt him. Rule #1 when it came to sources: never sleep with them .

    But Lucille was only human. He made her feel something . Something she hadn’t felt in years. If she could feel that way for just a little bit longer, then she would take that chance.

    “Yes,” she breathed.

---

Lucille stared at her phone. She’d been staring at it with overzealous anticipation all day, waiting for it to ring. Just as she had the day before, and the day before that. Today was different. She was running out of options.

    In one hand: half-scribbled and transcribed notes that barely made a comprehensible story which no reputable paper would dare touch with a ten-foot pole in its current state of affairs. In the other: lists of New York City attorneys, spanning multiple pages where each crossed-out firms got progressively more and more frantically scribbled. All bar one. Murdock & McDuffie. Her last resort for both article and friend, and she may have already ruined any chance she had because of a stupid night filled with countless bottles of beer. Lucille had few regrets, that night was quickly becoming one.

    Nothing had been the same since.

    Not just because of the ensuing storm that crept along the horizon these past few mornings. Where notes were once organised, they now laid all over any surface she could find and in places she didn’t remember such as the fridge or her father’s vinyl collection. Connections came harder to place. Her mind always elsewhere with his voice sneaking inside it. She never used to have a conscience arguing moral rights and wrongs over her shoulder before. Well, not one she cared about. Now it was getting in the way of things. Him and his fancy suit and his handsome face and his husky voice and his stubborn attitude. All of him, stuck in the back of her mind, taking up stock where cases once presided. And instead of working the daylight away in her office, she was stuck here at her cramped, messy, two-bedroom apartment because crime scenes were an unlawfully place to work from and, yet, the place she came to when she needed to breathe while she fought against a system that no longer believed in its original cause – the truth – was somehow more appropriate.

    It was not.

    All of New York was a crime scene. Lucille just had to look outside a window, any window, and there would be evidence. At least when she was at the office space she rented, she could do something about it right from inside the heart. She didn’t have to worry about it following her back home.

    Lucille called the city one big bloody war with tons of little ones happening all the time and had seen enough to know when a loss was on the way. Each minute, each count of the ticking clock, made her actions look futile while sat like a fool awaiting a phone call – which is all she had done lately. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Silence… A lead-filled exhale. Notes flew in the air, thrown across the room. Paper spiralled onto the floor in collapsed heaps. It was pointless. Waiting was pointless. Lucille had tried almost everything to soothe the pain she caused, but deadlines were encroaching and enough was enough.

    Choices limited, Lucille only hoped Matt would understand.

    She wasn’t going to let an accident, like mixing emotions and business, ruin one of the few good people she had left in this life.

    She had to fix this.

    Abrupt and sharp, Lucille pushed herself off and away from the counter, stepping around her makeshift desk and the mess of objects clamoured around the floor as she swept up what notes she could find before shoving them into her bag, some case related, some not so related. She was in too much of a hurry to beat the approaching storm that hung on the horizon to fuss over such things.

    When, all of a sudden, the phone rang.

---

“Do you need to get that?” asked Matt from behind as Lucille watched her mobile blink and ring atop his kitchen counter.

    She gave it some thought for a second, tempted to let it play out. “They’ll manage. Probably just some work stuff,” she decided, sending the caller to voicemail and fumbling with the smooth screen to open up the voice recorder app. She sighed at herself and began a search around the kitchen. “Do you keep any—?”

    Matt slid a mug next to her. “Already ahead of you.”

    The aroma filled the air, warmth and bitter caramel granules a welcome delight to the senses that seemed to lighten the fog on her mind with just one whiff. “You are a godsend, thank you,” marvelled Lucille, taking the drink between her bare hands.

    He made a restrained sound of disagreement.

    “Don’t agree?” she questioned.

    “Sort of,” he was loath to reply. “It’s complicated.”

    In the dimness of his open floor apartment, Matt shifted back and forth and fidgeted with a cup and turned his knuckles white. Small movements that would have gone unnoticed by most. But, even inebriated, Lucille was no stranger to the dark and could sense the shift from bending waves that lapped at her fingertips, before the neon light painted the edges of his movements like it was a gentle shove to stave away from the topic. The longer she observed the moment, the more it came clear and oddly familiar. “I get that. You spend years carrying out a higher purpose, your purpose. Then an accident, one little thing, and a new colour changes your perspective. Suddenly, you don’t know what to believe,” divulged Lucille through somber trippings of the tongue and a furrowed brow.

    A puff of air. “Heh, something like that,” said Matt, ever racked by the thoughts she could only guess as one does to abstract paintings or when making sense of God’s plans. Which she wasn’t a fan of either. Clearly, they shared the same bench in His heavenly gallery, and a roiling, sinking feeling crashed into the pit of her stomach as she came to terms with what she had started.

    “Hey…” It wasn’t her intention – blame it on the alcohol or, maybe, she really was her father’s daughter –  regardless, she did it with the reach of the hand. Bare to bare. Scarred to calloused. A current fired through lifeless electrons on a warpath upon contact like a gasp for fresh air and the words escaped her, as she held his hand. It must have burned him too, it burned her, yet, his fist merely unclenched and stayed under her. Though he remained quiet, his heart gave him away, the pulsing of blood loud in her grasp. The floor creaked as he leant to fill the divide, drinks put aside while a wobbliness lingered in their statures, and it was official. They were both still drunk.

    Drunk and craving a feeling.

    She knew then that this was not going to end how she planned it to.

---

Lucille was doing it again. Only this time was different. She rocked her foot back and forth as phantom vibrations got her stealing glances to her phone. It was rude, she knew, especially when someone was sitting across from you trying to help with legal aid, she just couldn’t help it. Her heart had barely recovered from the last time.

    Kirsten shuffled in her seat, continuing, “Miss Littleton, this case isn’t a walk in the park, it’s the exact opposite, in fact. There’s barely a case here to defend.”

    “Said you and a hundred other law firms. I know, I know. But.” Lucille sat up and punctuated her point with an agitated tap to the brown file she had made. “But, I know she didn’t do it,” she said. “I know it.”

    “Still, unless we can prove it, belief doesn’t hold up in court, and they already have a confession,” refuted a restrained Kirsten.

    “She could have been coerced, that happens sometimes.”

    “Can you prove it? Would we be able to?”

    Drops of water sunk against glass, filling in the void of Lucille’s silence as she succumbed to the discomfort of her seat and the grey skies outside loomed over. In life, Lucille only ever spoke on things which she was certain. Otherwise known as the truth. A lie could not leave her lips if she tried, unless she wanted to suffer the seething weight of that most awful sin on her shoulders (the one guilt she kept from her bible lessons). There were some things, however, that she could not admit even if it made her look like a madwoman. She could only hope they would come up with answers of their own.

    Hope.

    What a precarious, little thing to entrust in the hands of slick suit-fitted strangers who simply didn’t care. All they wanted was an easy wing. If she had it her way, she’d be running her own one woman army. But the system had proven to be quite the machine to take on alone, and she had the scars to prove it. A fight with it was never going to be easy. From a glance, Kirsten was just another one of those strangers with a snipers look examining her every move. Except, there were cracks of a conscience like her pulled taut lips and the fidgeting done on her lap. And cracks could be broken.

    “Miss McDuffie, these last couple of days I have seen virtually every lawyer that New York City has to offer, every last one. Half of them won’t see Charlotte. The rest, at least, have the courage to tell it to my face that they refuse. They are all sheep, McDuffie, and they couldn't care less for real justice,” detailed Lucille, unrelenting.

    The edges of her eyes wavered. “And I understand—”

    “But, you don’t. The whole world hasn’t turned its back on you.”

    And it was as if Lucille had slapped her across the face. If she was harsh, that was because of the truth. How caught off-guard Kirsten looked.

    Propping herself up and leaning across, Lucille looked up at Kirsten with her heart in her throat. “She deserves a fair trial, please. Just give her a chance,” she said. Everything hung on this. More than Lucille cared to admit to strangers. It made her sick to her stomach while her lungs waited for the moment when they could breathe again, pain aching in her chest, eyes ready to burst, waiting as Kirsten’s face softened. In that moment, she held Lucille’s hope gentle and firm. Torn. Humming and hawing. Until, a sigh. “I can’t promise anything. But, I need to speak with my partner, and we’ll make a decision from there,” said Kirsten, getting up to leave, and Lucille felt an ounce of relief wash over her. A chance was a chance. No matter how small.

    “No, yes. Of course,” she said.

    “And, Lucille.” Kirsten paused in the doorway. “If we go through with this, things will only get harder. So, I hope, for your sake, this is what you want.”

    Her words echoed in the volume of the silence that came into the room as the door slid close. Save for the pitter-patter of rain that grew by the second; the storm inevitable like the tears that glided down and left streaks in their wake upon Lucille’s tawny face. Of course this is what she wanted. She put her head in her hands. Of course. Leather scrunched within her grasp, clenching and unclenching to the count of her breaths and the ensuing gale winds. From here, it really could get worse.

    Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him. Matt Murdock and his suit – his well-fitted suit – moving like he ran the place, a man on a mission that wore his rage on the scrunches of his face, which made it clear the amount of turmoil she had caused him to suffer with these last few days. It was to be expected. No one says what she did without rubbing salt in an open wound.

    No one does what she did without a little pain.

    A part of her – naivety –  didn’t want it to be real. That it was all some drunken dream.

    A dream that became all the impossible to deny as he stood before her.

---

The memory of what occurred next was hazy. One moment, he stood on her side. The next, he had her backed up against the edge of the counter. It was the kind that typically remained a fantasy. But, by god, she wanted it to be real. 

    He felt real.

    His calloused hand cradling the side of her face, that was real.

    His warm body up against hers, that was real.

    And his lips—

   “Can I kiss you?” he pleaded, softly.

    A question she didn’t need to answer. He had her by the bated breath, of course he could have more. But she nodded anyway, part habit, part to convince herself. “Yes,” she shuddered as his breath teased her throat and his mouth found hers, capturing the gasp which escaped her and fed his hunger and starved hers; the lingering taste of him intoxicating and no sooner did one kiss become another and another. Each more overwhelming than the last with synapses firing off at both ends, electrons sparking on touch that had her core melting and set her alight from deep within. Hands searched and discovered. Their breaths intermingled, hot and heavy. Her pulse his. Erratic and uncontrollable. One of the same. A burning supernova at the dawn of creation, that’s what it felt like, and she had never been so. So alive . 

    Then, the shattering of ceramic. A mug knocked aside from the scuffle was all it took to have reality come crashing back into her head and have her pull away for air, while a sober sliver rose to the surface. Worse things could break should whatever this was continue. Her article. Her life’s work. Furthermore, her heart. It ached. This needed to stop. But.

    “You alright?” asked Matt, dishevelled and painted red.

    “Yes. Yeah.” No. “Just. Sorry. I should probably clean that up…”

    He held a finger under her chin, playing the little red devil on her shoulder with one word. “Tomorrow,” he panted.

    Tomorrow was a tempting mistake waiting to happen. No matter how much her insides twisted themselves in knots at the prospect. He seemed so nice that it felt like a punishment to deny herself this one thing, and it’s not that she didn’t want to wake up. However, it was about doing the right thing even if it meant pulling a harsh break, a little whiplash and dragging them both away from this nice oasis. Nothing good can last forever.

    Lucille bit her lip. Blood wet her tongue and teeth. Matt, forgive me.

    When he leaned in and her body responded back in kind, she spat out the first thing that came to mind, and never did she have such guilt for the dagger that was her words when hearts stopped and the journalist’s question went asked, “do you blame Daredevil for your friend, Foggy’s, death?”

[fxoye2]

I’m fascinated by all the issues ppl have w snw Spock since I was rewatching TOS recently and it struck me how completely different pine Kirk is from tos Kirk. Like there have been articles written about kirk drift and what not — tos kirk is v measured and calm and smart, and sort of a romantic hero but not really. AOS Kirk was sort of originally written as the generic 00s action fuckboy that flirts a lot, is sort of an ass and breaks shit but I think pine’s performance kind of elevated him beyond that. Plus I think his kirk definitely evolves. but even though I’ve seen a few ppl be kind of meh/mad on aos Kirk (and there are issues I have w his character being written as kind of a jackass in the first movie but it gets better) I’ve seen a lot more ppl embrace him and his messiness as opposed to being like, he’s just a shitty version of tos kirk. why do u think that is?

Oh wow, you’ve hit on something so interesting, and I think this really highlights the difference in how fans react to Kirk versus Spock when they get reimagined. AOS Kirk and SNW Spock both deviate a lot from their TOS counterparts, but it’s true—people seem way more willing to accept AOS Kirk and even embrace his messiness, while SNW Spock gets way more heat. And I think there are a few reasons for that.

First, you’re absolutely right—there’s this thing called “Kirk drift,” which is the way Kirk’s character has been kind of misremembered and simplified over the years. TOS Kirk was actually really thoughtful, measured, and intellectual, but people tend to remember him as this brash, reckless womanizer who breaks the rules and flirts his way out of trouble. The real Kirk in TOS was actually a lot more nuanced than that, but the pop culture image of Kirk doesn’t really match up with the original character. So when AOS Kirk came onto the scene, he was written more like that “action hero” stereotype at first, but because of the whole cultural idea of who Kirk is, a lot of people just accepted it as part of the character.

And I think Chris Pine’s performance played a huge part in why AOS Kirk is more embraced. You’re right—he could have easily been a generic 2000s action “fuckboy,” but Pine brought this vulnerability and depth to Kirk that made him more than just a cocky rule-breaker. He played Kirk with this sense of loss, of trying to live up to this impossible legacy, and I think people resonated with that. It made his messiness feel earned and relatable, because you could see the cracks in his facade. Pine’s Kirk wasn’t just an ass for the sake of it—he was a young man with trauma, struggling to find his place, and that added layers to a character that could have been flat.

Plus, AOS Kirk does evolve, like you said. By the end of the first movie and definitely by Star Trek Beyond, we see Kirk growing into a more responsible, thoughtful leader. He’s still impulsive, but there’s a clear arc where he matures, starts valuing his crew, and takes his role as captain seriously. That evolution is important because it shows that AOS Kirk isn’t static—he’s allowed to grow and become more like the Kirk we know from TOS, even if he starts off rougher around the edges.

Now, why does AOS Kirk get more leeway than SNW Spock? A big part of it, I think, comes down to expectations. Like we talked about with Spock, Leonard Nimoy’s portrayal of Spock is iconic, not just in Trek but in all of pop culture. He created a character that people deeply connect to, especially because of how alien and different Spock is from the usual human characters. Spock’s calm, his logic, his struggle with emotion—it’s all part of what makes him unique, and fans are protective of that. So when SNW Spock is presented as more emotional, more human, and not quite as restrained as we’re used to, it feels like a betrayal of what made Spock special.

On the other hand, Kirk’s pop culture image has always been a bit more forgiving of chaos. People are more willing to accept Kirk being brash, flirty, and impulsive because that’s how he’s been remembered, even if that’s not totally accurate to TOS. So when AOS Kirk comes in and is more chaotic and messy, it doesn’t feel as jarring. It’s almost like the chaotic, action-hero version of Kirk fits into the pop culture idea of who Kirk is supposed to be, even if it’s not entirely true to his original character.

There’s also the fact that AOS Kirk is introduced with his relationship to Spock front and center. Even though they’re combative at first, we know that Kirk and Spock’s relationship is going to be one of the defining aspects of the story. There’s this comfort in knowing that, no matter how messy AOS Kirk is, his connection to Spock will eventually ground him. SNW Spock, on the other hand, hasn’t had that same grounding relationship with Kirk yet, so we’re seeing him struggle without the dynamic that many fans see as central to his character. Without Kirk as his anchor, SNW Spock feels more adrift, which makes his emotional volatility stand out more. We haven’t seen the Spock-Kirk bond yet in SNW, so there’s a feeling that something’s missing.

In short, AOS Kirk gets more room to be messy because the pop culture version of Kirk has always been a bit more messy, impulsive, and chaotic, so his flaws don’t feel as out of place. Plus, Pine’s performance brought depth to that messiness, and we saw Kirk evolve into a better leader. SNW Spock, on the other hand, has to live up to the iconic, restrained version of Spock that fans cherish, and any deviation from that feels bigger and more unsettling. The lack of his bond with Kirk in SNW also makes Spock’s struggles feel more exposed and less balanced, so people are more likely to push back against his portrayal.

[princesmitty]

you mentioned having receipts for your giants/Dodgers yaoi diagram....please show it to me Rachel..... (especially the ones for junghoo/Yamamoto, junghoo/kim, and kim/rushing)

say less anon….. here is the relationship chart in question which is 100% factual and not at all influenced by my own personal opinions of these pairings 😊

i will say hyehoo has Way Too Much history and content that even i’ve yet to go through so i’ll be making a separate post about them!!

wrt junghoo/yoshi i answered this ask about their interactions and junghoo’s obsession w beating yoshi that would probably have the jhl/yamamoto receipts you want. but to give a more organized timeline:

they faced off against each other for the first time at the november 2019 wbsc premier12 where japan won 5-3 against korea. yamamoto was a relief pitcher for the 8th inning and junghoo was the first batter. yamamoto struck him out in three pitches, resulting in the first out of the inning. this was when they were both 21!

they met again in the 2020 tokyo olympics (august 2021) where leading up to the game junghoo said to the media that he wanted to face off against yamamoto again. this time yoshi was the starting pitcher for japan, and junghoo the second in the batting order. in the 1st inning junghoo hit a double, struck out in the 4th, and hit a double in the 6th. korea still lost 5-2, but overall, a better showing for junghoo!

after he was posted to the mlb, junghoo had a press interview at the airport before he left for spring training (february 2021) and said this:

the pitcher i want to face off against most? well, yamamoto and i are playing in the same division, [...] i'd like to see how different playing against each other on national teams versus league teams would be [...] so i want to play against him.

hashtag obsessed.....

then just a few days ago, they met again but this time in dodgers and giants uniforms during the june 13, 2025 dodgers/giants game 😊 junghoo was the leadoff hitter and yamamoto the starting pitcher! junghoo grounded on the second pitch in the 1st, walked in the 3rd, and grounded out again on the first pitch in the 4th.

look at how much they've grown...... and that's their story across 6 years! hopefully yoshi starts again in the july games against the giants so we can see them face off again and junghoo stays just as obsessed!!

about hyeseong and dalton...... they are so sweet together and dalton is so in love with hyeseong it would be pathetic to see if it wasn't so relatable.

they were teammates in the minors for the oklahoma city comets and promoted to the majors within days from each other! hyeseong on may 3 and dalton on may 14.

unfortunately korean fans/media only have eyes for hyehoo (not an exaggeration) so i couldn't find any articles about hyeseong and dalton :/ but it's about all the small moments..... if you see hyeseong in the dugout, chances are he's probably with dalton! (or yoshi but this ain't about him.)

junghoo looking at these photos and going "i waited for three and a half years, white man did it in one week" bc truly what is this...... hyeseong literally has honey dripping from his eyes..... hand on hip placement........

hyeseong just minding his own business and BOOM 68, 17, and 18 come in trying to start a polycule with him. like do you see dalton's big ass grin..... hyeseong out there just trying to cheer on his teammates and dalton is shooting his shot male bird-ing him....

also there's this ofc. truly what is so important that dalton came up from behind to speak directly in hyeseong's ear.

honestly though, i think the appeal of krushing is the sheer amount of physical affection they share. it's really sweet and adorable seeing minor league teammates get called up and live out their dreams together :)

i impart you with more pics of their hugs bc i love them sm.... anyways. dodgers is a team for lovers and if YOU'RE 🫵 not ZESTY 🏳️‍🌈 then GET OUT ‼️

[unbossed]

Useful Work versus Useless Toil

The above title may strike some of my readers as strange. It is assumed by most people nowadays that all work is useful, and by most well-to-do people that all work is desirable. Most people, well-to-do or not, believe that, even when a man is doing work which appears to be useless, he is earning his livelihood by it - he is "employed," as the phrase goes; and most of those who are well-to-do cheer on the happy worker with congratulations and praises, if he is only "industrious" enough and deprives himself of all pleasure and holidays in the sacred cause of labour. In short, it has become an article of the creed of modern morality that all labour is good in itself - a convenient belief to those who live on the labour of others. But as to those on whom they live, I recommend them not to take it on trust, but to look into the matter a little deeper.

— William Morris

[chaosresturantjandn4eva]

He's not going to post a pal post as he can't. Unpopular as I know he's loved in here. I can respect him as an actor, but teeteting on who he is as a man. I've seen others say it, but he uses her. The Boss articles were clearly planted as they released with the Getty images and used Nicola and the hug video to say like my gf she does, it didn't work. I'm not a shipper but his GQ created buzz from his random possible Netflix party appearance to the pasta/love island he knew they'd insinuate he was with Nicola as they did. Then the hug he pulled her in, what's she to do that wouldn't look bad? Imo as I saw one video on X, now I can't find it, I think he waited, and that's why they were in joint interviews. I do not think it was planned. He can't put pal though as he's got back the fans he lost because A. They are fighting that X post from the elevator because last night was so perfect with them in love. Look at his likes on the Boss photos where they know A was there versus the others where they can create a Nicola and him fantasy.

Hmm … what are our thoughts??

[manversus]

Like Locusts: The Devastating Plague That Ravaged Humanity and Altered the Planet

The destructive power of locusts has left a trail of ruin throughout history. These tiny insects can multiply quickly and turn agricultural land into a barren wasteland. Imagine swarms so large they darken the sky, consuming everything in their path. This is not just a story from ancient times. It’s a pattern that echoes through recent events, showing how nature’s smallest creatures can cause the greatest damage. This article explores how locusts, and similar phenomena, have devastated populations, ecosystems, and economies worldwide, acting like a plague that consumes everything.

The Nature of Locusts: Biological and Behavioral Insights

Understanding Locust Swarms

Locusts are a type of grasshopper with a unique ability. When conditions are right, they change from solitary insects into massive swarms. During these times, they gather in the millions or even billions. These swarms can travel long distances, overwhelming crops and destroying farmland in a matter of hours. Their sudden behavior shift depends on environmental triggers such as drought followed by rain, which boosts their food supply and reproduction rate.

Historical Precedents of Locust Plagues

For thousands of years, humans have faced locust outbreaks. The biblical plagues are some of the most famous. In recent history, the 20th century saw devastating infestations across Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. These outbreaks didn’t just destroy crops, but also crippled economies and caused widespread famine. Many villages and entire towns could not survive the onslaught, leaving behind despair and hunger.

The Ecology of Devastation

Locusts eat voraciously. They can consume their own weight in crops each day. As they strip a field, they leave behind soil with little to no nutrients. This affects the environment long after the swarms move on. Locusts reproduce quickly, with each female laying hundreds of eggs, leading to an explosive increase in numbers. Their infestation can wipe out entire ecosystems, breaking the balance of nature.

Human Impact: How Locusts and Similar Phenomena Have Caused Global Crises

Agricultural Collapse and Famine

When locusts invade countries, food production drops sharply. Entire harvests can be lost in days. For example, during the East Africa outbreak from 2020 to 2023, millions of people faced food shortages. Crops like maize, wheat, and rice were decimated, pushing thousands into hunger. The worst part? These outbreaks threaten food security for millions who rely on farming for survival.

Economic Devastation and Poverty

Locust invasions hit poor regions hardest. When crops fail, farmers lose their income. Markets collapse as supply dries up, making prices skyrocket. In many cases, families fall deeper into poverty because they cannot sell enough food or livestock. Experts warn these outbreaks deepen existing poverty cycles, trapping vulnerable communities in a cycle of hunger and debt.

Displacement and Social Unrest

When food runs out, people move in search of better options. Large migration waves happen, creating tension in host communities. Sometimes, these strains lead to conflicts or even violence. Historical examples show how locust crises push people off their land, sparking social unrest and destabilizing regions.

Lessons from History: How Humanity Has Responded to Devastation

Traditional Control Methods

People have long used pesticides to kill locusts. Community efforts like burning egg pods or setting up barriers have helped too. But chemical solutions aren’t perfect. They often harm the environment and can become less effective over time. Some attempts to control locusts work temporarily but don’t stop outbreaks entirely.

Modern Technologies and Innovations

Today, new tools make a big difference. Satellite images help track swarms from space. Drones fly in to spray pesticides with pinpoint accuracy. Modern forecasting models predict when and where locusts will strike. Still, these solutions aren’t foolproof. Continuous innovation is needed to stay ahead of the pests.

Policy and Preparedness

Countries work together through organizations like the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). They share info and coordinate action plans. Governments can prepare by creating early warning systems, stockpiling supplies, and training communities. Prepared nations respond faster, limiting damage and saving lives.

Broader Implications: The Metaphor of Plagues and Humanity’s Vulnerability

Comparing Locusts to Other Existential Threats

Locusts are a clear reminder of how fragile human systems are. Similar to pandemics or climate change, these crises grow fast and hit vulnerable communities hardest. They highlight how interconnected our planet truly is—what harms nature can directly threaten our survival.

The Role of Climate Change

Climate change makes locust outbreaks worse. Rising temperatures and unpredictable weather patterns create ideal conditions for their explosions. Droughts followed by floods help locust populations boom. The environmental damage caused by these cycles feeds into climate chaos, making future outbreaks even more likely.

Building Resilience and Preventive Strategies

We must learn to work smarter. Sustainable farming practices can limit conditions that spark outbreaks. Early warning systems and rapid response teams save time and resources. Education on how to prevent infestations helps communities protect their land. Governments and NGOs should foster collaboration and invest in long-term solutions, rather than only reacting to disasters.

Conclusion

Locusts serve as a powerful metaphor for global crises—be they pandemics, climate change, or economic collapses. These tiny insects remind us how quickly destruction can spread when we don’t prepare. By investing in technology, policy, and sustainable practices, we can prevent the worst and build stronger defenses. Ultimately, maintaining ecological balance is key. We must work with nature, not against it, to avoid cycles of devastation that leave entire populations empty-handed. The future depends on our ability to stay ahead of these threats and protect our shared home.