#actively impeding progress

[anxietyriddledsquid]

wip ft. cat

[literaryvein-reblogs]

One More List of "Beautiful" Words

to include in your next poem/story

Beneficence - the quality or state or doing or producing good.

Calefaction - the state of being warmed.

Callosity - lack of feeling or capacity for emotion.

Cicatrizant - promoting the healing of a wound or the formation of a cicatrix.

Estivo-autumnal - relating to or occurring in the summer and autumn.

Evagation - a wandering of the mind.

Hamartia - a defect of character : error, guilt, or sin especially of the tragic hero in a literary work.

Imparadise - to make supremely happy, transport with delight or joy.

Impedimenta - things that impede or hinder progress or movement.

Inhesion - the condition of being inherent in something.

Jocoserious - mingling mirth and seriousness.

Lowery - gloomy, lowering.

Malobservation - erroneous observation or interpretation

Mordacious - biting or sharp in manner or style.

Natation - the action or art of swimming.

Pandiculation - a stretching and stiffening especially of the trunk and extremities (as when fatigued and drowsy or after waking from sleep).

Pestiferous - dangerous to society; pernicious.

Satisdiction - the condition of having said enough.

Ugsome - frightful, loathsome.

Unclubbable - having or showing a disinclination for social activity: unsociable.

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[justarandomrat]

"Bruh- You are actively impeding my progress."

"Yeah?"

[sanjisleggy]

the warlord and his bodyguard (sir crocodile x reader)

req: Could you do a Mihawk or Crocodile x Marine reader. Like it's her job to watch them on missions or be in contact with the Warlords. And whoever you pick fell hard for the Marine but knows he shouldn't. Maybe he flirts with her and she tries to remain professional because she could get fired or way worse. But the man is determined

a/n: aaaa!! this was one of my earliest requests but i held off on writing it since i wasn’t sure if i wanted to write for Mihawk or Crocodile :’) luckily since then i’ve got to meet Crocodile again in the impel down arc so i feel a bit more comfortable trying to write for him :D i tweaked the plot a little to fit the ideas i had so i hope the requester doesn’t mind!

contents: reader is a not a good marine (lol), Crocodile is kinda down bad, pining, reader has devil fruit powers, a somewhat graphic depiction of violence, near-death experience (not violent), some fluff, very little angst

wc. 2.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

i. 

“tell me,” the imposing figure says, his voice so deep you swear the ground beneath your feet trembles ever so slightly. “did the World Government send you to mock me?”

Crocodile taps his hook against the surface of his mahogany desk, his heavy-lidded eyes peering sharply at you as he awaits your response. though he may be one of the Seven Warlords, you find it difficult to feel threatened by him, having faced and escaped more dire situations in your past as a cadet. besides, it’s rather rare for your potential cause of death to be so visually appealing.

“i should say no but both of us know that isn’t truly the case.” your response seems to have caught him off guard, his eyes widening ever so slightly. to your surprise, Crocodile follows it up with a smirk, all the while keeping his lit cigar held firmly in between his teeth.

“so what is the reason you’re supposed to tell me?”

as though reciting a script, you share how out of the goodness of the World Government’s hearts, they’ve decided to begin a new initiative to improve relations between the Warlords and the Marines. “thus, every Warlord will be provided with a bodyguard.” you’re unable to hold back the contempt in your tone and Crocodile picks up on it instantly.

“think you’re too good for the job, officer?” he replies in a disinterested manner.

“no, the job’s fine,” you admit, seeing no reason to be dishonest, “i just think they could’ve at least tried to come up with a better lie. i am glad i was assigned to you, though, and not Gecko Moria or Donquixote.” you can’t help but scoff.

the Warlord’s laugh catches you off guard. the fact that the sound alone causes a stirring in your chest alarms you even more.

what an interesting woman you are.

“so what will it take to keep your mouth shut?” Crocodile gets straight to the point, already fully aware of how your daily duties include a report back to headquarters on his activity. in all honesty, he’d meant it partially as a joke or, perhaps, a final attempt at sending you a message: you’re no threat to me.

“i don’t know,” you reply, taking a few steps to get closer to his desk before you lean forward slightly to level your eyes with his, “what’re you willing to offer?”

the Warlord can’t tell if you’re joking–and he’s not sure how he feels about that.

ii.

two months go by and business at Rain Dinners has been the same as always.

contrary to Crocodile’s expectations, your sudden arrival hasn’t impeded his progress on the casino and Baroque Works. his initial concerns over an influx in Marine officers storming Rain Dinners or a Vice Admiral showing up to tear down his secret organisation quickly go unfounded when it dawns on him that you’re truly not interested in taking him down.

if anything, he’s been enjoying your company. you’re an intelligent person whom he’s surprisingly able to have pleasant conversations with. you seem to have a keen sense of perception, knowing when to simply watch events unfold and when to interfere–though the latter instances have been rare considering his status in Alabasta deters trouble-making in his place of business. 

after the first few weeks of having you trail behind him everywhere he goes, Crocodile finds himself getting used to being in your company. today, however, marks the first time the Warlord feels a need for something more.

though the Warlord is surrounded by beautiful women all vying for a crumb of his attention–a common occurrence when he makes his occasional appearance at his own casino’s bar–he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you’re the one sitting beside him instead. not the kind of man to let his imagination run wild, however, he quickly reminds himself that you’re standing a distance away behind him as you always do.

before Crocodile can fully return to enjoying his evening in the presence of the women around him, though, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a familiar sense of danger snaps his attention to the lady on his right side. within the span of a second, he readies himself to activate his devil fruit powers but before he can even fully register what she’s trying to pull, you make your move.

recognising the stained needle held in between the woman’s fingers as being composed of sea prism stone, your body reacts on its own volition.

“shave.” 

to nearby onlookers, a blurry figure shoots its way across the room before you reemerge right behind the wannabe-assassin. without any warning, you place your right palm against the back of her head.

“twist.”

with a sickening crunch that reverberates throughout the once bustling casino, the woman’s body from her neck downward begins to turn a full 360 degrees whilst her head remains completely still in the palm of your hand. as her corpse flops to the ground, you hear the combined sounds of onlookers retching and gasping–but no running. the only one seemingly completely unbothered by the cold blooded murder is the assassination target himself.

“i could’ve handled it myself,” Crocodile sighs, puffing a cloud of smoke from his cigar, “though admittedly i am impressed by your efficiency.”

“were you aware the needle was made of sea prism stone?” your question catches him off guard; and he’s only further surprised when you bend down to pick it up from the floor with your bare hand.

“poisoned? i figured,” he admits, “but made of the stone? truth be told i was not aware.” the Warlord’s eyes travel slowly from the tiny needle held in between your fingers up to your face. as expected, you’re affected by the sea prism stone–he can tell from the droopiness of your eyelids and the way you furrow your eyebrows. “i could kill you right now,” Crocodile adds, unable to help his curiosity in what your response might be to such a suggestion.

“feel free,” you reply, a tired smile appearing on your tired face.

“don’t be ridiculous.” he shoots a glance at a random employee and gestures to the corpse. once it’s been taken away, he nods at the now-available seat. “take a seat, drink with me… and throw the needle away.”

iii.

three weeks later, you come storming into Crocodile’s office unannounced. normally he doesn’t tolerate such behaviour–the guest he’d been hosting even flinches outwardly, as though steeling himself to witness your impending death–but once the Warlord’s eyes lay on you, all anger flies out the window.

“why’d you do it?” you ask, clutching a crumpled letter in your hand as you make your way to his desk. with a wave of his hand, he dismisses his guest and remains silent and still until the two of you are left alone in the large room.

now that he’d had some time to take a closer look at you, the expression on your face screams less anger and more confusion–contrary to the way you’d nearly kicked down his door to get in. eyes flickering to the letter in your hand, the familiar material of the paper reminds him of a particular event that happened just a week ago.

“something troubling you, Miss Bodyguard?” the Warlord asked while in the midst of handling a mountain of paperwork.

“my village is in danger,” you’d replied without hesitation, not seeing any need to hide the truth from him–it was a trait he very much appreciated in you. “we used to always get harassed by pirates but lately it’s gotten worse and the berry i send home isn’t enough to keep them away anymore.”

a part of him expected you to drop a subtle plea for help but you never did. once you’d answered his question, you went back to being silent, eyes trained on the crumpled piece of paper held in your trembling hands.

“what’s the name of your village? and on what island?”

“remind me what you’re accusing me of?” Crocodile replies in his usual monotonous tone.

“you sent people to my village,” you say almost breathlessly, unable to help the tears welling up in your eyes as your heart pounds within the confines of your chest. “you’ve been protecting them, haven’t you?”

“yes.” 

“why?”

i hated seeing you worry.

“you wouldn’t be a very efficient bodyguard if you’re constantly thinking about your home, would you?”

for a long while, you simply stare at him in silence, your widened eyes glued to his deep-set ones. your gaze is so intense it’s almost as though you’re trying to peer straight into his soul; for a split second, the Warlord wonders if you’ve perhaps passed out while standing up with your eyes open.

“thank you,” you say softly with a smile on your face–the mere sight of which sends what the Warlord thought had been dead and cold in his chest into overdrive. for the first time in years, his heart races not from anger or adrenaline but from something else he’d long forgotten the feeling of.

iv.

four days pass by and Crocodile once again feels a strange sensation in his chest but this time it’s from worry.

within the course of an evening, you’d gone from perfectly healthy to deathly ill. first you’d collapsed after dinner–nearly hitting your head on the cold tiled floor had he not been fast enough to catch you–before a dangerously high fever started to set in. without hesitation, as he carried you to your quarters, the Warlord demanded for the best of Alabasta’s doctors and nurses to make their way over immediately.

now as the moon hangs high in the desert sky, its light shining through your windows just enough to illuminate your room barely, you find yourself accompanied by the Warlord himself. sitting quietly in a chair set beside your bed, you watch him as he reads a folder full of documents, using only the moonlight casting in as his source of light.

you feel terribly hot and extremely cold at the same time as you lay under the weight of your comforter, a wet towel resting on your forehead. your throat feels dry no matter how much water you drink so you’ve long since stopped asking for more–now only drinking when he periodically offers a glass to you.

in your fevered haze, you faintly recall some instances after you’d collapsed: the feeling of strong arms carrying you away, holding you close to a warm chest; the anger in a familiar voice it barked orders at others; the feeling of a large hand caressing your cheek as you laid barely awake.

“she will be okay, thankfully we made it in time to pump all the poison out of her system,” the leading doctor shared with Crocodile outside your bedroom door after a grueling few hours of medical care.

“poison?” the Warlord furrowed his eyebrows.

“yes, Sir Crocodile, we found a large trace of various poisonous substances in her stomach. frankly, she’s lucky to be alive.”

“is my face really that amusing to stare at?” he asks in a tone that lacks any bite as he directs his attention to you.

“you are quite handsome,” you admit with a weak smile. he feels his face warm up and hopes it at least doesn’t show on his skin. “you frown too much, though.”

“oh, really?”

“yeah. especially tonight.” you slowly take in a deep breath only to start coughing uncontrollably when the air gets lodged in your throat. Crocodile responds quickly but without haste, handing you a fresh glass of water as you sit yourself up. you drink it all before continuing to speak. “you’ve been frowning in a sort of angry way ever since the doctors left… what’s wrong?”

the Warlord takes a moment to look at you. there’s a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin and the bags under your eyes look the darkest they’ve ever been since he met you, frankly you look terrible but at least you’re alive. as much as he wants to pretend he doesn’t know why your survival makes him feel so relieved, he’s too smart to be fooled even by himself.

“you nearly died from an assassination attempt.” Crocodile hands you the folder he’d been pouring over while you rested. “i sent my best agents to investigate after the doctors told me you’d been poisoned.”

although your eyes burn with exhaustion, you managed to scan through all the documents with ease. you feel your already-weakened heart twist in a bizarre mixture of sadness, indignation and resignation as you learned the truth of your near-death experience.

“the World Government must’ve thought i was quite the threat to send Cipher Pol 8 after me, huh?” you say, laughing half-heartedly as you hand the folder back to Crocodile. “i guess i must’ve defected without realising.” you speak with an air of nonchalance that piques the man’s interest.

“knowing the World Government, you’ll probably have a bounty on your head once they realise you lived.” 

“i know,” you sigh, “the smart thing to do would be to leave Alabasta once i’m all better, don’t you think? i will miss keeping an eye on you, though.” the way you’re looking at him as you wait for his response is strangely playful and he feels the initial pang of disappointment morph instead into a tiny bit of hope. 

“join me,” Crocodile says exactly what he knows you want to hear. “i happen to have grown quite fond of being watched by you.” you smile widely and it sends his heart into a fit.

“join Baroque Works?”

“no.” he reaches out to grab your clammy hand, engulfing it with his much larger one; with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the Warlord brings it up to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “not Baroque Works, join me. stay by my side.”

“i’d like nothing more.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost

[read-marx-and-lenin]

I’m following the DPRK debates (or trying to at least) but ultimately I’m struggling to understand how to glorify a nation that impedes so heavily on its citizen’s human rights, any insight?

Two things:

First, you shouldn't be trying to glorify anything. You should be trying to understand things and separating truth from fiction.

Second, in that vein, you should be seriously questioning what is being said about the DPRK and why. The US and its allies have a vested interest in ensuring that any socialist project fails, and when they are unable to cause a real failure, they work to make the public believe that it has failed anyway.

The two main sources of the most egregious human rights violations are defector testimony and US/ROK intelligence. If you've been following what I've posted about the DPRK on this blog then you should already know the problems with defector testimony (you can watch this short documentary if you want to know more about that and hear from a few former DPRK residents who rebut many typical defector narratives,) but suffice it to say that the ROK actively pays defectors to make false and scripted statements in the South Korean media, and those who do not go along with the ROK government narrative or who actively contradict it are censored and even face prison time.

Meanwhile, Western intelligence is inherently unverifiable. The best you're going to get is a satellite photo with a building labeled "torture facility" as if we're supposed to look at a roof and be like "uh-huh, that looks like a torture facility to me". US and ROK intelligence officials can and do say whatever they like, but at the end of the day they are the direct enemies of the DPRK and their claims cannot be trusted.

The two Korean governments are still at war; they have never signed a peace treaty. Their conduct must be viewed first and foremost in this context. Both the ROK and the DPRK block movement of people across the DMZ. Both the ROK and the DPRK prevent the dissemination of information coming from each other's nations. Both the ROK and the DPRK surveil their citizens and place controls on the media. Both the ROK and the DPRK place limits on political and cultural activity. The ROK acts to suppress anti-capitalist movements and protect the capitalist way of life, and the DPRK acts to suppress anti-socialist movements and protect the socialist way of life, as both sides view their own political and economic systems as vital to the protection of human rights. On any of these grounds, you cannot fault one side without faulting the other, which is why Western media often opts instead to focus on the more exaggerated and unverifiable claims except when explicitly advocating in favor of capitalism over socialism.

Finally, there is the issue of contradictory ideas of human rights. The capitalist West will insist time and time again that the right to private property is a basic human right, while avoiding or even denying the idea of a right to food, shelter, clothing, healthcare, etc. as a basic human right. To the West, a landlord's right to evict a tenant is inviolable. To the West, denying a person shelter is more of a human right than granting them shelter. The opposite is true in socialist nations such as the DPRK. That the DPRK holds different values as human rights does not then mean that the DPRK is some terrible oppressive violator of human rights. The right to be a capitalist should not be considered a human right. The right to be a saboteur should not be considered a human right.

The DPRK Association for Human Rights Studies, a non-governmental organization in Pyongyang, published a report in 2014 on human rights from the perspective of the DPRK, outlining their objections to US-led international human rights standards and the progress being made in the DPRK towards guaranteeing human rights. You can call it propaganda if you like, but if you do not even look at the statements coming out of the DPRK, how can you have a rounded view of the situation?

Had the DPRK not succeeded in withstanding the attacks against it, had it managed to become subjugated by the US and other imperialist forces, I do not think we could then say that human rights in North Korea would have been secured and safeguarded. The poverty and inequality that the proletariat of South Korea are afflicted with today would have become the norm across the whole peninsula. Even if you believe that human rights are violated today in the DPRK, you must at least admit that the victory of the US and its puppet government in the South cannot be a means of combating any alleged human rights violations in the North.

[sxnnimoon]

Collision || Can’t Be Tamed 1

Bucky Barnes x Ex!Widow!Reader

Author Note: Chapter one!!! I’m still so upset the last half of this deleted and I had to re-write it but alas she’s finished !! I am not following a set timeline for this so I apologize now if it gets confusing.

Masterlist

“Did you hate me that much? You were always within my reach..”

Collision- implies the coming together of two or more things with such force that both or all are damaged or their progress is severely impeded.

..I crave you, I want you, I need you. But where are you now…?

It always starts the same,

You’d find yourself looking out the window, watching the party goers roaming the streets, stumbling, falling on their asses only to laugh it off. Baring left the time reads 3:35am. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. The moonlight being the only source of light, you watched as it danced enticingly along the figure laying in the bed you had once occupied, their body a blurry haze making it hard to see their face. Visions replay in your mind of the activities you shared with the other. Fingers came to your lips, the feeling of his still danced along them. You could still feel the way his hands roamed and gripped your thighs as your bodies collided. You smiled for a split second, soon dropping it as a wave of emotions hit you. Was it regret clouding your mind? Hatred? Shame or remorse? Pushing away whatever it was you were feeling, you would quietly gather your things and book it. You’d always find yourself looking back once more. It was always the same emotion taking over, guilt. You wanted to stay, you wanted to lay back down but you couldn’t. It's as if your body was on autopilot and it forbids you from returning almost as if it would hurt too much. But why, though?

As you near the door, you hesitate. Freezing in place, fingers grazing the door knob but why? As you turn the knob, you are hit with the cooling summer breeze. Goosebumps decorated your skin, the feeling felt nice against the exposed parts of skin. The night seemed so calm and still. Your mind began playing tricks again as you stopped dead in your tracks, just before your foot went past the door frame.

“Leaving so soon?” the faintness and grogginess of a male voice behind you. Your breath hitched. You knew that voice, all too well at that. You couldn’t see him as you turned, it was as if his face was blurred.

You’d cursed under your breath. Could it be him? Why would it be him? Turning back around to face the door you had a puzzled look on your face, the once summer night had faded and a warm bright light welcomed you. Take a small step out the door you stumbled, losing your footing as the light engulfed you only to wake up in a panic back in your bed.

“Just a dream…” Y/n would pant out, hand on her heart.

“Nothing more than just a dream..” you’d tell yourself each time to try and calm down.

But was that all it was, just a dream?

Present Day.

Name: Y/n Y/Ln

Age: ??

DOB: April 10th

Loc: Mykonos, Greece

“This..is… incredible.” Steve sighed, taking in the sight of clear blue waters and the sun shining down. He couldn’t believe the view, it showed the beauty of Mykonos and all it had to offer. “And you’re positive this is where she is?”

“Questioning my tracking abilities?” Nat raised a brow at Steve making him roll his eyes. “She lives for this lifestyle. The beach, parties that continue on til the morning. It practically writes itself. And you claim to know her well.”

“I’ve known her since we were kids,” he said. “It doesn’t seem like her..”

“Years don't make up for knowledge.” She sighed.

Steve kept quiet, “Maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought, or as well as Buck did.”

“Maybe,” she turned to him then back to the view. “I should have gone with her.”

“And end up having to track you both down?” He turned to her. “Absolutely not.”

“Would only take you a few years.” she smirked as he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, we got some mingling to do.” Nat waved her arm for him to follow her towards the town. A moment of silence fell between them as they walked.

“You think she’ll agree?” Steve broke the silence.

“It’s Y/n, how do you think this is gonna go?” she replied, earning a nod from him. “Start down there by the shops, I'll head this way by the restaurants and shore.”

With a final nod they separated on their own to gather information.

Y/N Pov

The fading guitar chords and vocals of Rhiannon could be heard fading into The Sun as Y/n was focused on chopping up some last minute items for dinner, completely in her own world as she hummed, soon singing softly along. Her villa was nestled deep within the land. Having her own access to the water whenever she pleased, flowers and plants decorating the exterior. It was beautiful, something out of a movie. Peering at the watch that was adorn to her wrist the time read 6:30pm making her shake her head slightly as she tossed what was chopped into a bowl next to her as she continued to cut some more.

“Took you longer than expected.” she spoke to the presence she now gained, not once looking up or stopping the flow of her movements.

“You’re not exactly the easiest to find now are you?” Nat answered with a question.

“Was supposed to be like that.” she tossed more into the bowl, “No contact, no tracking, no loose ends, no way of finding me.”

“Loose ends?” Nat quirked a brow.

“Yet here we are.” Steve joined in.

“The answer’s no.” Y/n cut to the chase. “You’re just wasting your time coming here, you both can see yourselves out.”

Y/n pointed towards the door with her knife.

“I’m going anywhere.” She went back to chopping.

“Will you hear us out at the very least?” Steve asked.

“What’s there to hear?” She set the knife down. “You need me to help with what’s coming. Do you not?” her arms crossed against her chest. “You need me to figure out what’s coming because you don’t know where to begin with it all,” she paused. “It’s incredibly simple by the way. The information is at your disposal, Tony of all people should know.”

Steve stared at her, “You know what it is, don’t you.”

Y/n made a “took you long enough” look.

“I should have known.” he let out a chuckle.

“So you know the severity of it.” Nat spoke, “Why not inform us? You cou-”

She was cut off.

“Is dinner almost d..done?” the voice slowly fading as they came into the room. Nat and Steve staring wide eyed at the sight of light brown almost blonde hair coming into view, his eyes meeting theirs, one brown the other brown with blue green specks.

Y/n sighed, pulling the boy into her arms. “Just about, set up the table for me?” she smiled sweetly, the boy nodding as she felt small hands wedging their way in between them making her laugh as she lifted her into her arms. Dark hair now meeting the pair, familiar icy eyes peering at them.

“You can stay for dinner if you both would like.” y/n spoke softly. “It’s your choice.”

Nat nodded, coming closer to the pair. The little on Y/n’s hip slightly nuzzling into her mothers neck.

“No need to be scared, we’re family.” she smiled, earning a small giggle from the little one as she tickled her.

With Steve and Nat staying, dinner was silent for once. As the kids finished, the boy went off while the girl stuck around.

“You can ask now.” Y/n broke the silence, “I’m sure you have questions.”

“Is that..?” Steve began.

“JJ? Yes.” she smiled looking off towards the part of the house he was in. “Big isn’t he?”

Steve nodded, a sad smile on his face.

“And her?” Nat gestured to the sleepy girl in your lap.

“Becca? She’s his.” She gave a small smile.

“Becca…as in..” Steve looked up at the name.

“Rebecca? Mhm.” she caressed the girl's face, “Seemed.. right.”

“But how?” he asked.

She let out a small chuckle. “Let me put her down first.”

Y/n got up to walk Bec to her room, tucking her in as she moved the hair from her face before placing a kiss to her forehead and leaving back to the dining room rejoining them.

“Ready?” she asked, looking at them before taking a deep breath and began explaining. Neither one interrupts, taking in what you were saying.

“Now do you see why?” she looked at them, eyes scanning them. “If I lose them, if they lose me..I'd never forgive myself.”

Steve lets out a sigh before standing, Natasha following his move.

“Just, consider it? You want to protect them, consider the fact that there may not be a world to

save them for.” she gave a half smile of sympathy. “You know how secure things are. They’d be safe. Just think about it. We know it’s a lot.” Steve adds before heading for the door, Nat not too far behind.

“Think of Clint, Laura and the kids. They're as secure as ever.” Nat made an offer. “They can stay with them through it all, you know Laura. She’d love it.”

Y/n chuckled, “Go, don’t leave him hanging or he’ll be back in here.”

“I’m going. Just, call once in a while? I kinda miss my best friend.” Nat smiled before leaving.

You watched as the door shut and they walked down the road out of sight. Running a hand through her hair as she sighed, Y/n gathered everything from the dining table and made her way to the kitchen. As she rounded the corner once more to grab Becca’s high chair she gasped.

“Don’t do that!” hand on her chest as she looked to her son who was standing in the dining room.

“Sorry…” he apologized, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s alright.” she gave a small smile walking to him, a wary look on his face, “Everything alright?”

He shrugged, following her into the kitchen sitting on one of the stools.

“What’s going on?” she asked, starting to wash dishes.

He stayed silent for a bit, Y/n not pushing him to speak.

“I heard them.” he said, “About leaving here.”

She nodded, of course he’d heard he’s quiet but hears it all.

“I...” he paused.

“Hmm?” She set the dishes down.

“Maybe it is a good idea.” he looked up at her.

“Oh?” a look of shock on her face, “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve told me, “No matter the circumstance or obstacle you face it head on and even if it results in pain you carry that with you because it makes you stronger.” he finished.

You cursed under your breath, a smile cracking at him using your words against you.

“When did you become 22, I thought you were 12?” She raised a brow at him, making JJ laugh.

“Way to use my words against me.” Y/n shook her head.

“I know you are scared because you don’t want to face dad.” his face softened. “I don’t understand love that much but I can imagine it’s hard..”

It’d been hard since that day, it's been going on almost 3 years which to some isn’t a lot but to her it felt like a decade.

“In a way, yes. Yes, I'm scared to see him. But, it’s the fear of not seeing you both anymore. You both are all I have. I can’t lose you guys.” She walked around the island to sit next to him.

“I think I can trust you’ll be alright,” he pulled something from behind his back, hanging it to you. “I found these, Maybe it’ll help you decide.”

Y/n watched him walk away as she held on to a familiar box, fingers grazing the rough edges from the tape lifting. Opening it she was met with a picture, it was from before everything happened. They’d all been at one of Tony's parties and they all looked so happy, smiles everywhere. It warmed her heart a little.

“JJ,” she sighed and whispered while going through the pictures. “You always know how to make me come to my senses.”

They’d all been huddled around the common area discussing matters.

“So she denied?” Sam asked.

“Well..” Steve dragged out.

“We left the option open for her to think on.” Nat chimed in.

“Could be a lot for her.” Wanda added, making Tony roll his eyes.

Bucky stayed quiet on it all.

“The fate of the world is at stake and she’s debating on it as if she were picking out shoes for her next party.” he face palmed.

“No.” Steve started.

“It’s because she has-” Nat was interrupted.

“My kids.” Everyone turned around in defense of who was standing there. “Don’t look so shocked.”

She shifted in her spot as everyone stood frozen, “Everyone sit down, like any of you could take me on.”

she rolled her eyes, walking closer slowly.

“You thought about it.” Sam was the first to speak, making you nod.

“I may have had some convincing but yes I did.” she gave a small smile. “I was also promised a safe place courtesy of Nat on Clint’s behalf.”

A smirk on her face as she backed away disappeared for a moment.

“You bargained for the farm?!” Clint stood as he looked at Nat.

“In her defense, I think Laura wouldn’t mind.” you smiled as you walked back in with Bec and JJ, everyone’s eyes going wide.

“Is that..” Wanda began.

“He’s gotten so big.” Sam added.

“Holy shit.” Tony blurted, hand coming to his mouth earning a glare from you.

“And this little one?” Clint asked arms out to take her.

“Becca, she’ll be 3 in a few months.” you smiled as you watched her with Clint.

“Oh Laura is so gonna not wanna give her back.” he chucked at the toddler.

“I’ll make the arrangements, they’ll be safe there.” Tony spoke.

You nodded, eyes falling on him finally. Your heart just about jumped when you realized he was already looking at you. He looked different, good different from that. There was a hint of regret and sadness behind his face and eyes. You could describe it but it soon became forgotten as the pain began brewing, the knot in your stomach doing flips and twists making you feel sick. You knew it was to be hard but were you actually up for this?

[fuck-yeah-anarchy]

Just a reminder for my fellow white anarchists about how critical it is to explore the perspectives of people of color, both anarchist and non-anarchist alike as not only do experiences of common oppressions like the state and class rule differ depending on identity and conditions, but they also demonstrate how intersecting systems of oppression, such as white supremacy, permeate society as wide-reaching structures of oppression. It emphasizes the significance of dismantling these systems alongside the destruction of the state and the development of a free society.

Failure by white anarchists to comprehend white supremacy, its connection to other forms of oppression, and the experiences of people of color and their distinctive oppressions will not only significantly impede any endeavor towards building a freer society but also guarantee the perpetuation of these oppressions within the organizations/affinity groups they establish and the work they undertake. These groups typically fade away after alienating numerous potential nonwhite sympathizers to anarchism and its principles, all while merely paying lip service to Anti-Racist ideals and the movements led by people of color.

Only by actively listening to, reading, and reflecting upon the experiences of people of color, as well as engaging in introspection to comprehend the white supremacist mindset that persists even among white radicals like anarchists, can we initiate the dismantling of these oppressive systems and progress towards a genuinely free society.

Here is some content on the subject from some fantastic folks.

Videos:

Zoe Samudzi - On a Black Feminist Anarchism

Saint Andrewism - Landback

Saint Andrewism - What is Black Anarchism

Literature:

Lorenzo Kom'boa Ervin - Anarchism and the Black Revolution

Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz - An indigenous peoples' history of the United States

Mariame Kaba, William C Anderson, Zoe Samudzi - As Black As Resistance

[ddarker-dreams]

Intimidation Ranking / Yan Sumeru Boys.

Kaveh — 2/10

Like... he's writing your names next to one another in his notebook and drawing a heart around it. Kaveh isn't inspiring much fear in the traditional sense. You find him endearing more than anything. He visibly brightens up when you're around, stares off into the horizon and sighs when you're not. His more socially unacceptable tendencies are kept under lock and key (such as his innumerable blueprints for how he'll build your house when you get married, despite how you're both only friends). His romantic rivals don't have to fear for their lives as much as they would if put up against the others on this list. That being said, he still has his methods for dealing with them. It's more psychological in nature. Once he's cemented himself as an important figure in your life, he'll 'exaggerate the truth' (he thinks the word lying has a negative connotation), about any rivals' negative traits. He does this covertly over increments of time so as not to arouse any suspicion. You couldn't possibly look at Kaveh and suspect any wrongdoing on his part.

Alhaitham — 5/10

Alhaitham is weird because he has the potential to rank high, but he'd rather not go that route if it isn't necessary. Outsourcing to criminals would require extra work. He'd prefer to stay in the realm of legality for convenience's sake, perhaps pushing gray areas, but nothing that'll require a major coverup. Just a little good old-fashioned coercion if you're being stubborn about returning his affections. He's crafty, he needn't get his hands dirty to obtain the outcome he desires. Should you be of an academic inclination, he'll utilize his influence in those spheres to impede your progress. There's no physical evidence so you have no means of retaliation. Given his dispassionate demeanor, people will have a hard time believing you should you tell them about this. Alhaitham himself will utilize a similar tactic should you ever confront him. His sound logic and steady voice make you wonder if you really are imagining everything. It's maddening.

Cyno — 7.5/10

Cyno is a force of nature. Once he's set his sights on you, that's it. While it isn't you who needs to be frightened per se, the same cannot be said for those he deems as questionable influences in your life (basically anyone who isn't him that receives your attention). He has the authority and resources to comb through their entire bloodline for any potential wrongdoings. No one's lived a perfect life, he's bound to find something, even if it just ends with them having to pay a fine. Still, in a highly competitive area like Sumeru, having anything on their record is a death sentence. Rumors start circulating that anyone who hangs out around you is subject to meticulous background checks. No one knows why, but that doesn't matter, the risk alone serves as a sufficient deterrent. If they cheated on a test when they were ten, Cyno is going to find out. The man's nothing if not determined. Cyno genuinely thinks he's doing this in your best interest — his conscience is crystal clear. This adds another layer of formidability because there will be no convincing him to stop.

Wanderer — 9/10

As Scaramouche, it would've been a 10/10, but he's had some character development. Emphasis on the word some. Nahida considers his budding attachment to you a healthy development, especially since you're the first person he's taken an active interest in without her involvement. He's keen on maintaining this innocent, well-meaning façade since he's still under surveillance for his previous crimes. This unintentionally works wonders for him. While he still has a sharp tongue, the fact he actively chooses to be in your general vicinity proves you're special to him. You think he's harmless, if not a touch blunt. He's perpetually hanging around and offering to help with whatever you're up to. You're happy, Nahida's happy, and surprisingly enough, he's happy. This cannot be said for anyone else in your friend group. He increases his unpleasantness when around them, never to an incriminating degree, but just enough to give them pause. They'd rather not deal with him and he's always around you, like a miserable little forcefield that repels any outside force. Wanderer may not be free to wreak havoc anymore, but all that means is that he has to get creative about it. Nahida's lack of omnipotence gives him enough room to slink around. Where there's a will, there's a way.

[tiredandkindaoverworked]

Damien Rhone is Driven.

CW for mentions of homophobia

Damien’s never known the feeling of slowing down. For as long as he could remember, it was just him and his mom. He grew up watching his mom work incredibly hard to provide for both of them. Then she introduced him to the magic world. He vowed he’d work just as hard as his mother to eventually provide her with a good life as soon as he could.

Being humanborn came with a new set of problems. People looking down on him wasn’t necessarily a new feeling, but it infuriated him that even in this world, there were still people with ridiculous superiority complexes. He vowed that he’d do what he could to change those attitudes as soon as he could.

He didn’t need to slow down, didn’t need friends, didn’t need a social life. What he did need was more work. So when he stormed into his advisor’s office for the third time that week, ready to get what he wanted, he knew just from the look in his advisor’s eyes that it would be another long conversation about how he needed to slow down and this policy and that rule.

All obstacles that were getting in his way of success.

A knock interrupts his rant. His classmate from their shared psychokinesis class. Somewhat of a kindred spirit. Hardworking and strong-spirited. He grants them their time, reminding them that the two of them need to practice later, once they finish with the advisor.

Damien and his new Freelancer friend begin spending more time together outside of class. Hanging out, shooting the shit. Damien justifies this as keeping his enemy close (even though the two are actively friends and enjoy each other’s company) to keep an eye on the competition. He has to push out the gnawing feeling eating away at the back of his brain that tells him he has better, more productive things to do.

Freelancer invites him to come bowling with a few of their friends. Hmm. Surely one night of bowling won’t do anything to impede his progress. He’ll just have to push himself twice as hard when he works out tomorrow.

He meets Lasko at the lane, begins setting up the names, is approached by Freelancer and their new boyfriend, Gavin. An incubus. Objectively pretty handsome, nothing too shocking there.

Damien can see the way he looks at his Freelancer. He allows himself to wonder if he’ll find someone to look at that way. Asked and answered.

Huxley, was that his name?

God, he looks so good. He smells good. He fills out that shirt really well. He’s so bulky in all the right places. Damien has a twinge of jealousy at that and vows to go thrice as hard at the gym tomorrow morning. But for now, he can settle for admiring Huxley.

He could almost swear he saw a flash of a smirk on the incubus’s face before it disappeared just as quickly.

As the months roll by, he finds himself hanging out with these friends more and more. Hanging out with Huxley more and more. Maybe he’ll ask Huxley to hang out after the E&E games, when they’ll both have more time.

The games flash by like a blur. He does pretty damn well, but still could be better. Didn’t place first, didn’t push hard enough. No time for that. Gotta watch Huxley rock it. And he does. Huxley places first in his category. Damien’s core thrums lowly, almost as if making an approving noise.

Screw waiting. He’ll ask Huxley out after the award ceremony tonight. He looks so good up there, standing on the podium. He really deserves first place. He’s beaming. At who? At Damien. And Damien beams back at him.

The sky rips open with a terrible screech and out pours hundreds of shades.

Huxley returns home from visiting his moms. Things aren’t the same. Lasko’s back to making himself smaller around him. Gavin’s made himself scarce, only ever really sending texts. Freelancer’s been around, been listening with that patient smile and kind eyes. He knows they’re cracking. They’re like a sponge. Absorbing everything thrown at them, but he can see how the cracks are starting to form.

Huxley… He hasn’t quite talked to Huxley yet. He can’t get the image of the hulking man coming to his aid when he was moments away from death.

And himself. He wasn’t enough. He had to get stronger and better. To not be a burden. To protect the people he’d found.

Eventually, Huxley and Damien end up hanging out again. Finally. One thing that feels right and normal and good. Damien’s feelings haven’t quieted. If anything, the distance makes his heart flutter when he sees Huxley for the first time in a long time.

He fidgets and seems nervous. He IS nervous. He confesses his growing and continuous feelings for Huxley. It’s like the entire world opens up when Hux reciprocates. Kissing him feels like an explosion.

Intimacy is a different kind of warmth he didn’t expect. It’s hot and passionate and rough, but also so gentle and full of care. Huxley presses kisses to Damien’s temple and neck as he bottoms out on his cock. He feels absolutely incredible to be stuffed so full and be held so tenderly that night. He finds that his new favorite pastime is having his tongue buried in his boyfriend’s ass. Huxley is fun and teasing and kind and sweet and dominating and submissive and god, he is perfection in Damien’s eyes.

His hands shake and his breathing quickens as they walk into the house. Gavin is so incredibly smug. He knows. Did he tell Freelancer? Did he tell Lasko? His nerves feel like they’re being set on fire and he shouldn’t even really know how that feels like.

One bad joke from Freelancer sends Damien to the bathroom to cool off. They’re his friends. They won’t reject him. They care about him. They want him to be happy.

‘But what if they don’t? What if they hate you?’

Damien sucks it up, bracing to be rejected.

Time to face the music.

One long Lasko ramble later, they’re sitting on the couch. Huxley’s arm is wrapped around his shoulder, gently caressing it with his thumb.

One down, one to go.

His mom is less accepting. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t want to get it. She loves Damien, she raised him right, she doesn’t understand why he has to go and be so dramatic and date a man. There’s plenty of lovely girls at DAMN.

Damien is frustrated. He makes the hard choice to walk away from the conversation for a bit. Huxley asks him to move in and he says yes in a heartbeat.

He loves his mom. He’s so grateful for everything that she’s done for him over the years. She raised him to be headstrong and determined and outspoken about what he needs. And now, he’s taking that step for himself. It’s up to her on if she wants to be a part of that.

Damien’s found family that accepts him and every day, they drive him to do better.

Damien Rhone is driven in every capacity.

[dragonfly0808]

How the Squad Found Out About that One Time Riven and Flora Kissed

First part of the chapter takes place during s4, second part is back in s2 ch28, right after the end of the chapter.

I’d originally planned to have Flo and Riv kiss in that chapter but decided against it last minute cause I just wasn’t sure how to make it clear that, while there could’ve been something there, and they both feel that, there are no actual romantic feelings between the two.

The possibility of them? Yes. the reality of them? No.

I feel like Riven and Flora have the most distinct platonic soulmate relationship, mainly because they’re the main ones I really could see falling for each other if things had been different and if they hadn’t meet Musa and Helia and I wanted to get that across in a poetic way but not a tragic way ya know? They didn’t lose anything for not falling for each other in this universe and they are still a huge part of each other’s lives if that makes sense?

Whatever, I’ll stop rambling, hope u enjoy this little drabble! I will be posting it on AO3 probably later on

***

It’d been a slow week, no activity from the Wizards and Roxy’s classes progressing nicely.

The squad had decided to have a quiet game night, with some alcohol coming into the mixture at some point.

At the moment, they were playing Truth or Dare.

In all honesty, there was very little they didn’t know about each other, but even after so long, there were still a few things that could surprise them from time to time.

Stella considered her turn, the bottle on the ground dictating that she’d gotten Riven.

The coward had chosen truth.

There were few things she could ask him that could result in anything majorly interesting.

Unless… Stella glanced towards Flora, who was leaning against Helia, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Anyone who had eyes could tell Flora and Riven had adored each other since their first year. That was obvious. At this point it was also obvious that, while they didn’t see each other as siblings, they didn’t see each other in any kind of romantic light either.

…but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t curious about whether or not they ever had, even for a fleeting moment. Especially since she did remember one particular evening during their second year in which they’d both seemed… almost bashful with each other.

Should she?

Stella slowly leaned back against Brandon’s chest, meeting Riven’s challenging look, “Okay, I know what I want to ask.”

Riven spread his hands, “Go on then buttercup.”

“Have you ever… kissed someone in this room-” she ignored the snorts, continuing, “who wasn’t Musa?”

Riven froze for a split second, clearly flabbergasted before casting a single quick glance towards Flora, who had sunk into Helia’s arms, covering her face as she flushed.

“Listen-”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Stella shouted, slamming a hand against the ground.

Musa broke down into giggles as she turned to Riven, “What?”

“No- it- it was before we were dating obviously. It was dumb we just…”

“We were fucking up a lot with you two so we got a little drunk and we kissed to seal our depressing marriage pact.” Flora explained.

Helia chuckled under his breath before turning to Riven with mock anger, “You got a marriage pact with my girl? What happened to the bro code?”

“We were drunk, depressed and hating on love. She was obsessed with you, I was obsessed with Musa but we were fully convinced we’d just fucked everything up for good- cut us some slack man!”

They all burst out laughing, clinging to each other as they Flora somehow sunk further into the floor and Riven hid his face in Musa’s neck.

***

Flora was thinking, unable to focus on the book in her hand. She could feel the alcohol at the base of her skull, a dull thump, barely there but just present enough to make her think.

She’d freaked out on Helia.

Riven loved her. He was her person.

Did that mean something? Or did she just want a connection that her baggage didn’t impede?

She turned to him, watching him as he tinkered on one of his projects, trying to think objectively.

He noticed after a moment, meeting her gaze, “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just… thinking.”

“About?”

He’d freaked out on Musa.

Flora loved him. She was his person.

But how did she love him? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

“Have you ever thought… that maybe… you and I should try?”

One of his eyebrows slowly rose up as he set down his tools and fully turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning back, “I won’t lie… the thought did cross my mind once or twice… before I really started catching feelings for Musa. You?”

“Same. Before I fell for Helia… I don’t know, maybe I thought about it in passing.” But she would’ve never acted on it even back then because she knew Musa had a crush.

“It’s weird isn’t it… if not just sad. That we’ve had so little love in our lives that now we’re doubting what we have.” Riven muttered under his breath, letting his head fall back as he sighed.

“Yeah… should we… do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Riven raised his head, inspecting her before going to join her on the small couch, sitting besides her.

“Should we kiss?” He asked, it sounded like he was asking himself just as much as he was asking her.

Flora considered, “I mean… could be like… sealing the marriage pact?” She took a deep breath, shaking off her nerves, this was her person, worst case scenario, it might be a bit gross, “Okay. I’m in if you’re in.”

Riven nodded along, “Okay.”

He leaned down to meet her halfway. It was a hesitant, yet gentle kiss, soft and slow as they both tried to figure out how they felt about it.

Seconds passed and they pulled apart, both leaning against the couch, staring at the wall before them.

“I mean… it didn’t feel… wrong.” She started hesitantly.

“But it didn’t feel right either.”

“Exactly.”

They glanced at each other before laughing light-heartily. Blushing out of embarrassment and awkwardness.

“If things were different… maybe then.” He said after a long minute.

She shrugged, bumping her shoulder against his, “Maybe in another life.”

He snorted, “Yeah, maybe in another life.”

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

From August 2023

By Mary Van Beusekom, MS

The COVID-19 International Research Team (COV-IRT) and the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP) report that they have identified abnormal mitochondrial function in the heart, kidneys, and liver after SARS-CoV-2 infection, which leads to long-term damage and may help explain long COVID.

Mitochondria are the so-called "powerhouses" of cells, and the researchers noted that previous studies have shown that SARS-CoV-2 proteins can bind to mitochondrial proteins in host cells, possibly leading to dysregulation.

The team analyzed mitochondrial gene expression in tissues from COVID-19 patients' nose and throat, along with tissues from deceased patients and hamsters and mice. The results were published today in Science Translational Medicine.

"The tissue samples from human patients allowed us to look at how mitochondrial gene expression was affected at the onset and end of disease progression, while animal models allowed us to fill in the blanks and look at the progression of gene expression differences over time," first author Joseph Guarnieri, PhD, a postdoctoral research at CHOP, said in a hospital news release.

Research identifies potential therapeutic target In autopsy tissue, mitochondrial gene expression had recovered in the lungs, but not in the heart, kidneys, and liver. The rodent tissue and measurement of the time of peak viral load in the lungs showed that mitochondrial gene expression was suppressed in the cerebellum, even though SARS-CoV-2 wasn't found in the brain. The cerebellum coordinates and regulates muscle activity.

Other animal models showed signs of recovery of mitochondrial function in the lungs during the mid-phase of COVID-19 infection.

Co-senior author Douglas Wallace, PhD, of CHOP, said that the study offers strong evidence that COVID-19 is a systemic disease that affects multiple organs rather than strictly an upper respiratory illness. "The continued dysfunction we observed in organs other than the lungs suggests that mitochondrial dysfunction could be causing long-term damage to the internal organs of these patients," he said in the release.

The results also identified a potential therapeutic target, microRNA 2392, which was shown to regulate mitochondrial function in the human tissue samples, said co-senior author Afshin Beheshti, PhD, president of COV-IRT and a visiting researcher at the Broad Institute.

"This microRNA was upregulated in the blood of patients infected by SARS-CoV-2, which is not something we normally would expect to see," he said. "Neutralizing this microRNA might be able to impede the replication of the virus, providing an additional therapeutic option for patients who are at risk for more serious complications related to the disease."

The researchers said they will use these data to conduct future studies on how systemic immune and inflammatory responses may lead to more severe illness in some patients.

Study link: www.science.org/doi/10.1126/scitranslmed.abq1533

[srbachchan]

DAY 5932

Jalsa, Mumbai May 15/16, 2024 Wed/Thu 3:37 AM

🪔,

May 16 .. birthday greetings to Ef Debelina De from Kolkata .. loves and joys .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️🕉️ ..greetings and wishes as ever from the Ef ..

The reason to get here at whatever be the schedule or time constraints or other diversionary activities is not a habit .. it is a disciplined act of a reflection that contact once built should remain .. for when unmaintained the 'what will others say' comes to the fore and the order is broken ..

ego and arrogance may go side by side .. but never in undeserved territory ..

" Ego and arrogance breed toxicity in relationships, hindering growth and understanding. They blind individuals to their own flaws, impeding personal development. Arrogance erects walls, preventing collaboration and empathy. It stifles creativity and innovation by dismissing alternative viewpoints. Ego-driven decisions often prioritize self-interest over collective welfare, leading to conflict and division. Moreover, arrogance alienates others, corroding trust and respect. It creates a facade of superiority, masking insecurities and fostering loneliness. Ultimately, the negativity of ego and arrogance undermines meaningful connections and fulfillment. Embracing humility and empathy dismantles these barriers, fostering harmony, cooperation, and genuine progress in personal and professional realms. "

an ailment that shall ever be a digestive condition without cure .. live with it practice it to its formality and be ever in alienation .. for all the uncared for wrong reasons ..

love and care 🌹

Amitabh Bachchan

[gatheringbones]

[“Libbon (2007: 86–87) highlights that the verve of patriarchal science to prove sex role differentiation throughout the nineteenth century correlates with the increasing dissatisfaction and protest by women against such gender demarcations. As the century progresses, the “woman question” becomes a popular topic of debate across Europe and America, and the developing profession of psychiatry comes to play a more prominent role in reinforcing the morality of “appropriate” gender roles. For example, Darwinian psychiatry of the 1870s proclaimed women as less evolved than men due to their physiology; the dominance of the reproductive system meant that the female brain was largely incapacitated, thus women were theorised as “naturally” reliant and submissive to the superior male race (Showalter 1985: 121–125). Psychiatric scholars argued that there was a danger of insanity if women sought to exert additional pressure on the brain through seeking an education or considering political matters. Even the simple activities of writing or reading could be potentially disastrous to a woman’s health, as can be seen from the following advice given to prominent feminist writer Charlotte Perkins Gilman (cited in Ehrenreich and English 2005: 112) by her doctor in the latter part of the nineteenth century:

Live as domestic a life as possible. Have your child with you all the time … Lie down an hour after each meal. Have but two hours intellectual life a day. And never touch pen, brush or pencil as long as you live.

Feminists became a prime target for the psychological sciences; such women were theorised as degenerative, sexually deviant and a threat to the “natural order” of the species (Libbon 2007: 86–87). According to the famous sexologist Krafft-Ebing, the dangers for women of abandoning their prescribed sex role were becoming “too masculine” as well as sexually permissive, both of which could be considered as regressive and pathological—symptoms of underlying organic damage to the female body (Libbon 2007: 87). Under the patriarchal ideology of the experts of the mind, mental disorders such as nymphomania, hyperesthesia (a mental illness caused by “oversensitivity”), and hysteria became commonly associated with those women who dared to deviate from the strict confines of Victorian femininity and their ascribed domestic chores. Thus, the dominant discourse on the division of labour and gender roles in industrial society was legitimated and reinforced by the burgeoning psy-professions as normal, common sense, and healthy for society. “Mental breakdown,” remarks Showalter (1985: 123), “would come when the women defied their ‘nature,’ attempted to compete with men instead of serving them, or sought alternatives or even additions to their maternal functions.”

The increased labelling and confinement of women as “mad” by psychiatry served to legitimate the needs of capital and patriarchy for subservient and conforming women under the discourse of medical science.

Here, we see the development of what would become the hegemonic domination of female populations by psychiatry and its allies—professional groups that have sought to depoliticise the struggle against patriarchal power through medicalising women’s bodies and experiences as pathological. As Libbon (2007: 89) summates of psychiatry’s success in the nineteenth century,

Having labelled woman as intrinsically diseased and debauched, experts and laymen alike now took institutional measures to impede any further social or political disruption on her part. Under the guise of “curing” her of her ailments and moreover protecting society in the process, the unruly woman was now forced either into compulsory hospitalization, often with accompanying surgical mutilation, or incarceration. In both instances it was the woman who protested and rallied against male control and regulation of herself and her body who was locked away, sequestered from society, in an effort to compel her to return to … the silent, submissive role man had eked out for her.”]

bruce m.z. cohen, from psychiatric hegemony: a marxist theory of mental illness, 2016

[shifting-empress]

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐀 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭?

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

Dear Pile 1 - It looks like the cards are suggesting for you that your shifting routine could benefit from a more methodical and consistent approach, while also embracing positivity and optimism. Try adding more structure to your routine—be it in how you plan your sessions or how you track progress. The Knight of Pentacles is dedicated and patient, so consistency is key here. Alongside that, I encourage you to focus on your goals with a positive mindset, allowing you to bring more joy and clarity into the process.

There is also signals that a fresh beginning is imminent in your journey. This could be a sign to refresh or alter parts of your routine that may feel stagnant, introducing new methods or reinforcing existing ones with renewed enthusiasm. Consider incorporating activities that bring you a sense of rejuvenation and optimism, such as focusing more on visualizing or reaffirming your intentions with a clearer, brighter outlook.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

Pile 2, you don’t have a routine, do you? There's this vibe that you may be lacking clear structure and direction in your shifting journey. The Queen of Swords embodies clarity, intellect, and decisiveness, indicating that you need to add more mental discipline and discernment to your routine. You might benefit from focusing on the specific steps and strategies needed to shift, making sure you have a concrete, thought-out plan in place. This might involve setting clear goals, writing down your shifting techniques, and identifying potential obstacles. You need to let go of what no longer serves you, which could mean eliminating distractions or outdated practices that haven’t been working. This card invites you to move forward with a sense of emotional maturity, leaving behind any mental clutter that may be impeding your ability to focus on your desired reality.

Your oracle card literally says, "Laziness might have something to do with your certain situation, if so, own it and fix it." Overall, you need to set a structured routine and a practical shifting plan for yourself - even if it's just meditating every night before bed. It ties in beautifully with this. It’s time to transform your dreams into actionable steps. Set realistic expectations for your shifting routine and give it structure. You can still have flexibility and creativity, but the key is to focus on practical and achievable actions. Draft out a more intentional schedule, align your mindset with those goals, and keep refining your approach to shift more effectively.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

Pile 3, the cards indicate that it’s time for you to embrace transformation and move forward with purpose and confidence in your shifting routine. The Judgement card calls for a deeper self-awareness, urging you to reflect on your goals and your path toward your Desired Reality (DR). It suggests that you might need to release old patterns, limiting beliefs, or attachments that are holding you back from fully committing to the shift. This could be a time for personal growth and reevaluating what you want out of the experience, aligning your inner self with your external efforts.

You need to add more determination and focus to your routine. Don't just wait for things to happen—it drives forward with purpose. You may need to be more assertive in your intentions, pushing past any hesitations or distractions. Establishing clear, specific goals for your shifting process can help you stay on track and maintain the energy needed to push through any challenges. Your shifting routine could benefit from a strong, internal sense of clarity and purpose, combined with a focused, unstoppable drive. You may want to add an element of self-reflection, perhaps journaling or meditation, to help align your inner energy with your shifting goals, while also reinforcing your commitment to move forward without hesitation. The key here is to embrace both self-awareness and action—only then will you truly begin to shift with confidence and success.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟒

Pile 4, along with the advice to count your blessings and start a gratitude journal, suggests that your shifting routine could greatly benefit from fostering a sense of emotional balance and peace. There's a call for alignment and fairness,. Are you having anxiety or mental strain? There is some indicating that a source of stress may be stemming from a lack of balance in how you approach shifting, perhaps leading to overthinking or unnecessary worry. (Are you coming over from Shifttok by chance?)

The advice to start a gratitude journal helps address this by shifting your focus away from anxiety and toward positive aspects of your life, both in your current reality and in the process of shifting. Writing in this journal every morning and night will not only help calm your mind and ease the fears highlighted by the 9 of Swords, but it will also encourage you to appreciate the progress you’ve made and the blessings in both your current reality and your desired one.

This practice will help ground you, provide emotional clarity, and remind you that shifting is part of a larger journey. By starting your day with gratitude, you’ll align your mindset with positivity and peace, while ending your day reflecting on the good, reinforcing a healthy emotional state. This balance will create a more peaceful and centered foundation for your shifting practice, allowing you to release stress and approach your goals with more confidence.

[hyperlexichypatia]

This is my extremist radical proposal for drastically reforming the U.S. education system: In K-12 schooling, no student should ever spend or be expected to spend more than 8 hours per day in school or doing schoolwork or doing school-adjacent tasks. Students should spend the remaining 16 hours per day doing things that have nothing to do with school, like sleeping, eating, and hanging out.

But -- and this part is key! -- as students progress, the ratio of in-school time to independent-study time should shift.

Early elementary school kids, through about third or fourth grade, should just go to school for 8 hours a day and have no homework. None. No independent reading, no agendas to sign, nothing. They should leave school for the day and not have to think about school again until the next morning. Oh, and their 8 hour school day should include breaks, outside time, lunch, art, music, independent reading, and other non-tested subjects, because childhood is short and learning should be fun.

Beginning around fourth or fifth grade, students should have a slightly shorter school day, of 6 or 7 hours, and some small, manageable homework/independent study tasks. Things like "Read a book and report back on it," "Practice your math tasks and see if you can do them by yourself," "Study our vocabulary words." These tasks should be manageable enough that no student ever has to spend more than 8 hours a day total on schoolwork, but can still give the student an opportunity to practice self-reliance.

(Note: Kids this age [around 10+] should be considered old enough to be home alone for a couple of hours while their parents are busy, like they have been in most societies for most of human history, so this shouldn't be a threat to parents' work schedules. And anyway, it's not like current school schedules line up much with parental work schedules. But also, separately and unrelatedly, adult work schedules should also be drastically reduced.)

By high school, the ratio should shift to about 4-5 in-school hours a day to 3-4 independent-work hours a day. Homework for high schoolers can involve more complex self-directed activities like doing research and writing reports, doing projects, running experiments, etc. This will give them a smoother transition if they go to college, where the general guideline is that every class requires two hours of independent work for every hour of class time. And if they don't go on to college, they can still get practice at independent research that will serve them well in whatever they choose to do with the rest of their lives.

Now... I admit that my extremist radical proposal is not perfect. Namely, this still leaves the problem of parents. Any requirement of homework or independent study time or anything for students to do when they're not legally required to be physically in the school building is going to be dependent on the student having parents/guardians/family who have to at least not actively impede the student's studying. Any educational benefits of independent study have to be weighed against the possibility that some students won't get to do it because their parents monopolize their time with work or other tasks. Ideally, I think if a student was consistently not completing their homework tasks, the teachers wouldn't respond with punishment, but with a concerned conversation with the student about their home environment, and maybe accommodations like staying after school in the library. That's not a perfect solution, but it might be something. Still a massive improvement over the current system.

[its-my-barbeque]

Started thinking about the implications and now I have a theory: The reason why General John MacNamara is so different in TGWDLM and Black Friday is because of who is telling the story.

We know the narrator for TGWDLM is Pokey. Its a retelling of the events and he is in control of what we see and hear - its why the characters cant hear the instruments but we can. This is also backed by the title number and Emma specifically (but that's a post for another time).

In Black Friday, we don't have confirmation on who the narrator is but tis safe to assume one of two options; either the ensemble (Tom, Becky, Lex, etc) or Webby. In this case, we're leaning towards Webby as there are interactions that would be difficult to see otherwise - ie the presidents office before the start of 'Monsters and Men'.

In regards to MacNamara, we know the Lords have history with him. During 'Made in America', while Wilbur is the one who calls out to him, in the captions its credited to Wiggly. This could be attributed to him being a General for PEIP, but there was a little too much malice in the ost for me to believe that's the case. While we don't see it happen, it's clear that MacNamara has not only impeded the Lords progress, but has actively stopped them - probably on multiple occasions. Additionally, he is a Warrior of Light: he can wield the Blade of Truth and has helped Hannah and Lex (Webby's chosen vessels) on multiple occasions (Orb Weaver isn't out yet but that is the synopsis so that would make the pervious point true on two sperate accounts). And even if he isn't a Warrior of Light, the enemy of my enemy is my friend - he is at the very least and ally of Webby.

Now for how that affects his characterization;

In TGWDLM MacNamara is a bit more aggressive and sporadic, even to a silly extent that can seem a bit much at times. He has wide eyes, he's constantly moving, and goes on tangents. Then, despite his title of General, he is easily defeated and absorbed by the Hive. Why is that? Well, because Pokey is the narrator. I wouldn't push it so far as to say its propaganda against PEIP ("look at how silly this so-called military is. even their general is weak! they couldn't be a threat if they tried"), but it absolutely carries a mocking tone. Pokey wants you to laugh at MacNamara, not take him seriously.

In Black Friday, however, MacNamara carries a very different tone. He's calm, collected, knows exactly how to handle almost every situation. In this one, you could actually believe that he is a General and not just some guy with a gun. This can be attributed to Webby being the narrator. She agrees with his values (note 'the value of the human heart' dialog vs 'The Witch in the Web' and how Webby treats Willabella) and, as stated previously, is allied with him in some way. Webby wants to paint MacNamara in a good light, and have you see him as a hero.