#and unrelated political idea

[upfrog]

An AI-generated art hot-take

Time to get some people mad at me.

I just saw a post where someone was expressing their frustration at generative AI, specifically the risk it poses to artists, and how it continues/worsens/partakes of a tradition of reducing art to a finished product. There was a particular piece of it that made me very annoyed, and I've seen this piece in a lot of posts about generated art. Well, it's past midnight where I am, I'm tired, and I'm tired of shutting up about my view on this.

"It's [AI art's] entire central premise is built on the grim truth that many people don't see artists as skilled laborers using years of practiced skill to create something unique, but as data to be exploited"

Some other posts also emphasize a perceived sense of entitlement to art; that AI art advocates feel it is unfair for artistic creation to be limited to the elect few.

I would like to give a very strong rule. Like all rules, no doubt you could come up with exceptions to it. But this rule is foundational to the world around us, it's development, and it's future.

Making it easier to create things is good. Period. Making it take less time, effort, people, and training to create things is good. Period.

Technology making jobs redundant is a good thing. It is the foundation of almost all human progress. We are all descendants of farmers who were cruelly put out of work by new technological developments. The day when one person and a computer can do the work of an entire department of artists will be a good day - we are not there, maybe we'll never get there. But technology making people redundant is good. Expanding the ability of the average human to do things is good. And the fact that we have gotten to the point where people are unironically saying "it's *good*, actually, that it takes years of practice and effort to be able to produce good art, and you shouldn't want it any other way" is... Perverse? Horrifying? Taking self-interest into the realm of actively tearing your fellow humans down?

To be clear (because this is the internet, and if I don't specify then someone will fill in the gap with the worst things imaginable) I'm not saying that a future where generative AI is extremely good, widespread, and accessible will not have downsides. The threats of bespoke scams, deepfaked videos, floods of bots with a superb ability to guide the narrative, and so on are real, dangerous, and may already be coming to pass.

I know that one aspect of the anti-AI-generated art kickback has to do with the nature of professional art, and the type of people who do it. "Art", broadly defined, is substantially a passion field. You don't do it to get rich, or to have a stable life. You do it because you love the work, and are willing to put up with a thousand downsides, annoyances, and more in order to do what you love. And having this taken away feels cruel in a way that, say, keeping grad students and accountants from having to manually calculate thousands of sums doesn't.

A few words of encouragement. Widespread literacy may have killed the scribal profession as it was understood at the time. But it opened up vastly more work than it destroyed, even if you just count the directly writing-related work. Mass-produced off-the-shelf clothing shrunk the tailor (as once understood) into practical insignificance. Does that mean that no one who is passionate about making clothes can work in the field now? No. We have far, far more clothing (insert anti fast fashion rant here, I'm all on board with that kickback), and more variety, and lots of people working with clothing. The development of software code compilers unemployed a large number of human compilers. In many ways, programming has gotten easier over the years, with a lower barrier to entry, more comprehensible languages, more resources, and so on. But that hasn't meant that software developers are stuck in an unemployment hell of too many job seekers and not enough openings. We, as a society, keep on finding more and more things we want them to program, and demand for the skillset keeps rising. I can't see the future. Maybe AI-generated art will be the end of employment for artists. Maybe the generative AI revolution is fundamentally different from every past productivity revolution. But I doubt it.

[brother-emperors]

Hello! I'm just curious about how Trebonius and Cassius operate around each other in your head. I love your thoughts on Trebonius as a sort of sledgehammer in the hands of others but does the same apply to Cassius? Is he a sledgehammer too, but also does he wield Trebonius in the same way?

nah, I’ve only ever framed Cassius and Trebonius as a sort of mutual conspiratorial seduction (or two people who got fucked over by Caesar coming together with the same goal), so neither one of them is wielding the other the way Crassus or Caesar used Trebonius. you can’t really do a good Roman conspiracy with hammers & both Cassius and Trebonius has their own conspiracies to Caesar, with Trebonius eventually joining Cassius’!

[thebirdandhersong]

oh yes ladies I was asked out (on a DATE) last week and I'm still cry-laughing over it because WOW that went down SO badly

[yamikawaii]

OK WHAT DID WE LEARN TODAY KIDS!

DO NOT PUT EXFOLIATING SOAP OR ANY TYPE OF PRODUCT WITH LITTLE GRITTY BITS ON OR AROUND OPEN WOUNDS NO MATTER HOW MUCH OF A HURRY YOU ARE IN. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LOOK FOR SOMETHING ELSE.

[jojotichakorn]

there is something so special to me about slowly settling into liking a thing without truly realising it. not being instantly possessed by it, but almost allowing it to possess you already after realising how much you've grown to love it. genuinely wanting it to be a part of your life.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[itsdelicate]

i must be in hell 💀

[lord-squiggletits]

There’s two different types of bad writing, and one of them is the kind that’s actually infuriating.

There’s bad writing that’s just bad 100% of the way through, or it’s otherwise so low quality that there’s nothing of value to be gained from it. When writing is this bad, you can just ignore it and forget about it because it has no skill, no value, no memorability whatsoever. You don’t develop strong feelings about it because the writing is so bad you can’t even hate it because you don’t care about it enough to complain about it.

And then there’s bad writing that actually has gems of quality in it: There were interesting concepts, or character relationships that seemed interesting, or a setting or other plot device that adds depth to the world. Except it’s executed in such a shoddy way that it makes you scream from how much worse the actual writing is compared to what it could have been in theory. Bad writing that’s bad because of wasted potential is 1000% worse than bad writing that’s just bad because it’s just good enough to make you want to enjoy it.

The latter type of bad writing is pretty much how I feel about Barber’s work in phase 2 and it really annoys me lmao. Because Barber got almost every plot point that I was looking forward to reading about (Earth politics, Pyra Magna, colonies, Optimus fucking Prime being my favorite character of the whole continuity) and managed to turn it into a snail-paced boring slog full of contrivances that don’t make sense and only exist to force a certain plot to happen, with virtually no character relationships that are interesting and sloppy political allegories that aren’t actually told through a good story and are basically just Barber puppeteering the characters to scream “THIS IS A POLITICAL ALLEGORY DO YOU GET IT” as if this is entertaining or #deep when really it’s just boring and annoying.

[thesingingrevolution]

looking at pictures of me and my former friend… i was so happy. i thought we would be friends forever

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - The King's Obsession

Summary - She is the singular focus of his attention, the only person who matters to him and she knows it. One night, she expertly uses her charms and his infatuation to orchestrate an encounter that ends in pure bliss for her, fully exploiting his devotion to her advantage.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2393

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Aegon Targaryen was a man marked by jealousy, a trait I noticed long before our marriage. A trait I found rather alluring.

The intensity of his possessiveness was thrilling and intoxicating. The idea of having someone so desperately and undeniably focused on me, unwilling to share even a sliver of my attention with another, stirred something profound within me. 

There was a pull in knowing that I held such a significant place in his world, especially when that world was ruled by the king of the Seven Kingdoms himself.

To be the object of such unrelenting desire, the singular focus of a man who wielded immense power, was phenomenal. It was as if I were a rare jewel, coveted and cherished in a way that few could ever experience. 

His neediness made me feel singularly important, a queen in the truest sense of the word, celebrated and adored by the very ruler of the realm.

One evening at a grand dinner, I chose to deliberately test the limits of Aegon's jealousy. The feast was resplendent, the hall filled with the chatter of nobles and the clinking of silverware. 

I positioned myself next to Lord Halford, a man known for his charm and vivacity. From the outset, I engaged him with a warm, inviting smile, letting my laughter ring out more freely than usual.

Lord Halford, ever the gentleman, leaned in slightly, his voice a soft murmur as he said, "It's been far too long since we last conversed. How have you been, your grace?"

"Oh, you must know," I replied, my eyes twinkling with feigned innocence, "life in the court is ever so busy but I've found it quite entertaining tonight, thanks to your delightful company."

Our conversation flowed easily. I allowed myself to bask in the pleasure of his attention, laughing at his stories and adding my own anecdotes with a touch more enthusiasm than usual. 

As I leaned in closer, my hand occasionally brushing his arm, I could feel Aegon's gaze burning into the back of my neck.

I glanced briefly at Aegon, catching the edge of his stormy expression. His eyes, usually warm and soft, were now darkened with an intensity that made my heart race. His posture had become rigid, his jaw set tight as though he were struggling to keep his composure.

Lord Halford, catching sight of Aegon's darkened expression, instinctively pulled back slightly. His previous eagerness faded, replaced by a more cautious demeanour. 

"It seems the King is rather absorbed in his thoughts this evening," he said, his tone now more reserved. "Perhaps we should let him enjoy his own reflections."

Undeterred, I maintained my warm and engaging demeanour. 

"Absolutely," I replied, my gaze drifting back to Aegon with a hint of deliberate sweetness. "Though I must admit, tonight's intrigue feels unusually personal."

Lord Halford nodded, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of Aegon's gaze. 

"Indeed," he said with a polite but hasty smile, "personal intrigue can be most... compelling. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

With that, he made a polite, if somewhat hasty, retreat from our conversation. I could see the relief in his step as he distanced himself from the brooding presence of the King. 

As Lord Halford moved away, I turned my full attention back to Aegon. 

His eyes were locked on the retreating figure, his expression a storm of irritation and concentrated jealousy. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, each rhythmic tap a testament to his struggle to maintain his composure.

The more animated I was with Lord Halford, the more Aegon's agitation seemed to intensify. The subtle power play between us unfolded like an intricate dance, each movement and gesture meticulously designed to provoke him. 

I felt a thrill in being so deeply desired that even the smallest shift in my attention could elicit such a strong reaction from him.

The excitement of being the centre of his turmoil, knowing it stemmed from his profound longing for me, was intoxicating. My heart raced as I saw the storm of jealousy clouding his demeanour.

Without a word, I rose from my seat, the silk of my gown brushing against my legs as I stood. I glanced at Aegon with a look that was both inviting and commanding, a silent invitation to follow. 

His eyes, dark and fierce with a mixture of frustration and desire, locked onto me immediately. 

Without hesitation, he rose and followed me, his steps quick and purposeful, as if he were a hound obeying a command.

We left the feast behind, the noise of the revelry fading as we made our way through the corridors. There was an urgency in his stride, his focus was entirely on me, his frustration at the dinner transforming into a determined drive as he followed my lead.

Entering our chambers, I moved with deliberate grace, the silence of the room embracing me as I crossed to my dressing area. With a practised ease, I changed into my nightgown, a delicate, flowing garment that hugged my figure softly, its silk whispering against my skin. 

Once dressed, I made my way to the edge of the bed, my movements slow and intentional. As I settled there with my legs crossed, the soft glow of the chamber's candlelight played across the curves of my figure, casting a warm, intimate light that accentuated the serene anticipation in my posture.

Aegon entered the room behind me, his eyes quickly taking in the scene. The contrast between his tense, urgent demeanour and my calm elegance was striking. His posture was taut with a mixture of frustration and desire, his earlier agitation from the dinner giving way to a palpable eagerness.

As I awaited him on the edge of the bed, my expression remained composed yet hinted at the promise of what was to come. 

The night was now ours, and the thrill of our interplay, with its blend of desire and dominance, set the stage for a new kind of intimacy.

Without hesitation, he moved towards me, his eyes pleading. "Please," he murmured, his voice a low, ragged whisper. 

I tilted my head slightly, a hint of a smile playing on my lips as I regarded him. 

"What do you want, Aegon?" I asked, my voice soft but steady, revelling in the power I held in that moment.

His response was immediate and heartfelt, stripped of any pretence. "You," he said simply, his eyes locked onto mine with an almost pleading fervour. 

It was clear that he was consumed by his need for me, and his words carried a weight of both desperation and adoration.

As he took a step closer, I leaned back slightly, the glint in my eyes revealing a challenge. With a deliberate motion, I lifted my foot and placed it gently on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. 

The gesture was both commanding and teasing, a way to assert control while simultaneously heightening the tension between us.

Aegon's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed up at me from his halted position. 

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "I can't take my eyes off you."

I allowed a smile to play on my lips, savouring the power I wielded in that moment. "Is that so?" I responded softly, my tone both teasing and indulgent.

His vulnerability was evident, a mixture of reverence and urgency. Reaching up, he gently grasped my foot, his fingers warm and trembling against my skin. 

Slowly, he began to kiss his way up my leg, each kiss a soft, worshipful press of his lips against my skin.

The sensation of his kisses was electrifying, contrasting with the cool silk of my nightgown. I shivered with pleasure, my breath hitching as he continued his tender exploration. 

"You're making me crazy," he breathed between kisses, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're all I can think about."

I tilted my head slightly, enjoying the effect I had on him. "And how does it make you feel, knowing you can't have me just yet?" I teased, my voice low and seductive.

He responded with a mix of reverence and urgency. 

"It's maddening," he admitted, his eyes burning with desire as he kissed higher along my leg. "But it's also the most incredible feeling. I want you so badly."

Suddenly, I pulled my leg back, breaking the intimate connection we had been building. Aegon's face fell into a look of utter desperation, his eyes wide and pleading. The shift in dynamic was immediate, his body tense with longing.

I leaned back further on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows, my body a tempting curve of invitation. 

Slowly, deliberately, I let one hand glide down my body, the soft silk of my nightgown barely concealing the skin beneath. My fingers trailed over my stomach, brushing the fabric aside as I traced a teasing path lower.

Aegon's eyes followed every movement, he took a step closer, but I shook my head, a soft smile playing on my lips.

"Not yet," I murmured, my voice a velvet whisper. "Watch me first."

His eyes widened, the desperation in his expression intensifying as I let my hand drift lower, slipping beneath the hem of my nightgown. The anticipation hung heavy in the air each breath he took growing more uneven as he watched me with rapt attention.

I allowed my fingers to brush lightly against myself, a soft gasp escaping my lips as I arched my back slightly, savoring the sensation. The sight of me touching myself, the pleasure that flickered across my face, was almost too much for him to bear. 

His hands clenched at his sides, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"Is this what you want, Aegon?" I whispered, my voice a sultry tease. "Do you want to see me lose myself like this, knowing you can't have me just yet?"

He swallowed hard, his voice strained as he replied, "More than anything."

My smile deepened, and I continued to tease him, my fingers moving with agonizing slowness, drawing out every moment of anticipation. His breath hitched with every subtle movement, his frustration mounting as he watched me with an intensity that bordered on worship.

"Please," he finally whispered, his voice breaking with need. "I can't take it anymore. I need you."

Satisfied that I had pushed him to the brink, I finally relented. I removed my hand, leaving him staring hungrily at the spot where my fingers had just been. 

Slowly, I crawled back up the bed, positioning myself in the center, my legs parted in a way that was both inviting and commanding.

"Then come and get me," I whispered, my voice a seductive challenge.

Without a moment's hesitation, he began to pull off his clothes with a hurried urgency. The crisp rustle of fabric falling to the floor contrasted with the charged stillness of the room, each discarded garment a testament to his growing anticipation.

As he rushed towards me, his movements were a blend of frantic eagerness and focused determination. His desire was unmistakable, a tangible force that seemed to propel him forward.

His fingers, trembling with anticipation, gently traced the curves of my body before he positioned himself between my legs. The heat between us was undeniable, a magnetic pull that had been building throughout the evening.

I leaned back slightly on the bed, my body arching in anticipation as I gazed at him with tenderness. His eyes, a mixture of longing and urgency, locked onto mine. 

"Are you ready?" I whispered, my voice a seductive murmur.

With a deep breath, he guided himself inside me, his movement slow and deliberate at first. The initial contact was a wave of warmth and intensity that made me gasp softly. As he began to move, the rhythm of his thrusts was measured, a blend of tenderness and passion.

Each thrust was deep and deliberate, drawing out a series of soft, gasping breaths from me. 

"You feel incredible," Aegon murmured, his voice rough with pleasure. "So perfect. I can't get enough of you."

The sensation of him filling me completely was both thrilling and intimate, a profound connection that went beyond mere physicality. His movements grew more fervent as the pleasure built, each thrust driving us closer to the edge of ecstasy.

The bed creaked softly beneath us, a rhythmic accompaniment to the growing tempo of our lovemaking. The tension and heat that had simmered throughout the evening now erupted in a series of intense, shared moments.

With each thrust, he seemed to lose himself more in the sensation, his breath coming in ragged, passionate bursts. 

"It's like you're everything I've ever wanted" he gasped, his hands gripping my hips firmly. 

My own responses were a mix of soft moans and whispered encouragement. 

"Tell me how much you want me," I urged my voice a breathy whisper filled with pleasure.

His hands guided our movements, his touch both firm and tender. "I want you more than anything," he breathed, his voice strained with desire. "You drive me wild. I need you so much."

The pleasure was overwhelming, a crescendo of sensations that seemed to build and build, pushing us both toward a shared climax. Our breathing grew more erratic, our movements more urgent, as we approached the peak of our passion.

Finally, as the intensity reached its zenith, our bodies entwined in a moment of perfect release. The culmination of our lovemaking was a wave of ecstasy that left us both breathless, our hearts pounding in unison. 

"You're amazing," Aegon whispered, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction. "I never want this to end."

The room seemed to shimmer with the afterglow of our shared experience, the connection between us deepened by the raw intensity of the moment. As we lay together, our bodies still intertwined, I looked up at him with a satisfied smile.

The thrill of our interplay lingered in the air, a testament to the powerful connection we had forged. 

My whisper, soft and teasing, broke the silence between us. "Remind me to make you jealous more often," I said, the playful challenge in my voice a promise of the exciting dynamic that lay ahead.

Aegon's eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and mischief, he pulled me close pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. 

The warmth of his embrace and the shared satisfaction of the evening wrapped around us, a perfect end to a perfect night.

A/n - Jealousy might be the green-eyed monster, but in these chambers, it's just foreplay

[elumish]

In the wake of what's going on in the world, I see a lot of rhetoric that basically boils down to the idea that everyone has a responsibility to watch every bad thing that's going on in the world all the time. That awareness itself is a responsibility that everyone has always.

I'm not going to say that people do or don't have a responsibility to be aware of things, but I want to talk about how to take care of yourself and others while doing so.

For some context, I spent close to a year and a half reading about every terrorist attack in the world as part of my work on the Global Terrorism Database. It was 2015/2016, so this was the height of ISIS/Daesh, it was a major time for Boko Haram, and it was when there was a lot of political violence that we weren't sure how to classify in places like Yemen, Crimea, and Libya (stuff the GTD didn't know how to classify had all of is information recorded, and then it went into purgatory until someone above my paygrade decided what to do with it). What this means is that I was spending 10-20 hours a week reading about hundreds or thousands of attacks a month and, in my case, recording infomation about the type of attack and the type of weapon. Much of my life was reading terrible things.

Limit what you do in isolation. One of the worst changes for me during that time, mental health-wise (even though it was great for my commute) was when I went from working in-person to working remotely. With other people, there are ways to diffuse the pain. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that. That may mean talking about it, or joking about it, or finding some other way to engage with it that isn't just reading about the most horrible things in the world and then stewing in your own thoughts about them.

Find something to do that's totally unrelated. I highly recommend finding something to do with your hands, if you can (knitting, Lego, cooking, whatever), but regardless of what it is, you should have some time when you entirely switch away to something different. During a fair amount of my time with the GTD, I was also doing my undergrad thesis about terrorism on TV, so a huge amount of my life was about terrorism in some way. The only other thing I watched was Great British Bake Off, and I would just rewatch the episodes, over and over.

Be compassionate about how you share information and with whom. Use trigger warnings, and consider using consistent tagging on places like Tumblr so people can blacklist it if they need to. Also consider whether it's appropriate or necessary to share photos of bodies or other results of horrible violence. What is it accomplishing, to show that? Can that goal be accomplished other ways that don't require the equivalent of jumpscares of unexpected photos of dead or brutalized people? Are you just showing it because you think that everyone should have to see it? If you are showing it, are there ways to mitigate against harm it may do?

Do what you can to avoid an echo chamber. Sometimes, when everyone around you is upset or angry about the same thing, it just amplifies itself, and you all get angrier and more upset in perpetuity without accomplishing anything.

Work towards action. Watching terrible things happen for the sake of saying that you haven't looked away isn't as meaningful as taking action in some way. Write to your Congressperson. Donate. Do whatever is appropriate for the thing you want to stop. But penance via watching terrible things happen doesn't accomplish anything.

Recognize compassion fatigue and do what you can to mitigate it. If you spend long enough doing this, you start to lose context, and you start to become less able to have compassion about things. If you're reading about attacks with dozens or hundreds of deaths regularly, five can start to not seem like that many. If you're reading only about the worst suffering in the world, "lesser" suffering of those around you can start to seem unimportant and petty. Do what you can to mitigate that.

Be kind to yourself. You do nobody any good if you burn out. Look away, if you need to. Take a break. Do things so you can enjoy life, because otherwise you are just another person suffering in the world. Other people's pain isn't a hair shirt for you to wear.

[rafry]

Euclydia, Cults and Need for Control

Disclaimer: this analysis raises sensitive topics. if you are/were a victim of a cult and the topic triggers you, please refrain from reading further(/seek help). Additionally, I am not a specialist on said topic, nor am I a clinician. But I am a survivor, so part of the narrative may or may not be just me projecting the trauma on a silly yellow triangle. That said, reader discretion is advised! :)

The take: Euclydia is likely to be a cult-like society and the reason Bill, after years of abuse, grows up to be as he is: a power-hungry monster. Let's analyze!

For the starters, The Start. Each state has its own anthem. How lucky that we were kindly provided with the Euclidian hymn (hidden under the code "FORGETTHEPAST")! Lets take a look:

"Two dimensions to and from, You always know which way to go If you're lost, don't be afraid, In Euclydia you've got it made! Run too far too right of frame, You'll appear on left again! Jump too high, don't fry or fret, You'll pop up from the ground, I bet! In this place there is no fear, Roles and rules, always clear, Euclydia, we hold you dear…"

That tells us way more than we could've asked for, really. The most important: Euclydia is a state of Clear Rules™. Everything works perfectly thanks to The Rules and The Roles, and the state is loved by it's citizens. It's might be a caricature 2D utopia, but how it reacts when the rules are questioned?

"Eye doctor of a different kind, who wants to make his patient blind The doctor says: 'three sips a day will make the visions go away' Fussy eater, baby Billy Wouldn't drink unless it's silly..."

If there's anything about cults and the way they make people behave, is that the "wrong" ones in the community are usually ostracized and/or heavily medicated to not cause any troubles. Those people are sometimes called 'heretics', but may as well just be called crazy or insane by their peers. Oh look completely unrelated picture:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane Starting fires with his brain"

Honestly, the other time it would be it. Euclydia, if not Is, then sure does Act like a cult in some way. I could've finished here, easily, but there's something missing, isn't?

"The hell do you mean by 'The Need to Control', OP?"

I mean that the BILLVILLE is important.

There's the thing about trauma survivors: some of us, after living a life with no control over ones societal position (ostracization/isolation), body (forcibly medicated) or even mind (feeling of inadequacy), crave for some form of control to be regained.

It can turn toxic very quickly when the only form of control one has ever seen in their life is being The Leader (cult leader/shitty parent/armageddon overlord/you get the idea, it's about becoming an authority figure).

And so, Bill becomes a cult leader! Very possibly covering up the need for control and admiration with what I call "The most inefficient way to build an Interdimentional Portal ever", since, well, he's got to lie to himself every now and then, that's his thing (trauma response).

As for the details:

He uses the dead mans body — the body that wouldn't cause any resistance, thus being perfect for taking under control.

He sees the position of the interviewer as more authoritative than the position of the interviewee — and he swaps the roles. That wasn't enough though, so he demands (politely) to be called "My Lord And Master" for a good measure.

He very possibly recreates some of Euclydia-like order in his own "Town" in terms of expressing individuality. They might've been pretty decent in following scripts, I think.

So, I don't think Euclydia has ever been religious in any way, since that would left some other scars on Bills psyche for sure. But highly authoritative, ignorant, strict in its rules to the point of self-damnation? That checks. That's the place that has formed Bill, after all.

That's the place that he wishes to rebuild.

Maybe not consciously, maybe distorted by his illness and broken memory of a loving-paradise-home that has never actually been that way, but he seeks the comfort of familiarity — most of us do. Familiar stings are better than an uncontrollable too-bright future, isn't?

I hope he does well on therapy.

[homunculus-argument]

I think the reason why some cis people are so offended by being called "cis" is because they're entirely unfamiliar with the idea that they might be things that they didn't deliberately choose to be, or that the way they inherently are and hadn't considered as a distinct thing may be a concept that's been named, observed and defined. They don't like to learn that there are names for them that they had not been aware of.

When you've lived all your life with a vague and lingering dread that you are somehow different from everyone around you, it's a relief to learn that there are words for what you've got going on, that there are names for people like you. That you're not somehow uniquely wrong in some way in which everyone else is right, you're just type B when the vast majority of people are type A. There are others like you, whose patterns are like yours, you are not a deviant for deviating from the "norm".

Default Settings People get strangely insulted by the mere idea that they, too, have a slot in the classification system. They'll protest this, being the biggest, most typical, and statistically most likely category isn't enough, they want to be outside of this system completely. Arguing "I'm not some type, I am normal", like being sorted into a type at all is dehumanising and insulting. They want there to only be One Type, and that everyone falling outside of it is a Miscellaneous Deviant. Being "typical" in contrast to "atypical" isn't enough, they want to be normal in contrast to abnormal.

In unrelated news, the ADHD subreddit on reddit has banned the word "neurotypical". That kind of language has been deemed as 'political', meaning that it hurts the feelings of neurotypicals and therefore should not exist.

[suckmyballshoney]

I don't understand, why are you mad at people pointing out that it's his fault? Facts are facts, you'd better accept them

Im not mad at people saying it, they’re right and he did a bad move, I’m mad because I’m frustrated and ten people + a slur using anon came telling me that at the same time as if trying to prove I support an idiot, like jeez gimme a break I *know* I don’t need half of the internet jumping on me every time he does bad

[read-marx-and-lenin]

Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I’ve been attempting to unlearn what I’ve been taught about the DPRK from western outlets, but I’ve gotten stuck on a facet that you can, perhaps, speak to. As is often harped on here in the west, there seems to be a dynastic quality to the leadership, namely the Kim family. Now the fixation that the people have on their leaders I can understand, we can observe the same kind of obsessive fervor in many countries in the west (especially the US). I guess I don’t fully understand the political structure of the DPRK, nor the people’s relations to it. I apologize for the vagueness of this question, and thank you very much for your time.

It is understandable that most people will have no idea about the political structure of the DPRK, and the title of "Supreme Leader" can be confusing if you don't understand how the DPRK's government works.

The political structure of the DPRK is based around democratic centralism, similar to the USSR. Kim Jong-un was elected to the positions of general secretary of the Worker's Party of Korea and president of the State Affairs Commission, which grants him the honorific title of "Supreme Leader" and makes him the representative of the state. However, he is not the head of government. That would be the premier, Kim Tok-hun (unrelated to Kim Jong-un, Kim is simply a very common surname in Korea.) Kim Tok-hun also serves as the vice president of the State Affairs Commission.

The highest organ of the DPRK, meanwhile, is the Supreme People's Assembly, which is a multi-party legislature that votes on laws and constitutional amendments and is responsible for electing both the Premier and the President of State Affairs, among other positions. While there are multiple political parties in the DPRK, the Worker's Party holds a privileged position under the constitution. So while the position of General Secretary does not confer any formal governmental powers, it is still a powerful political position in the country.

The Premier is the head of the Cabinet, which is the administrative and executive body of the DPRK. While the SPA creates laws, amends the constitution, and decides the budget, the Cabinet administers the implementation of them.

The SAC directs the orientation of state policy in the DPRK. While they do not write laws directly, they can issue directives to guide the SPA in determining which laws to write. However, the SAC is ultimately accountable to the SPA and not above it. The SPA is responsible for electing the SAC in the first place and has the authority to recall its members. So while the SAC is not directly elected by the people, it does not hold greater power than the SPA whose members are directly elected.

Members of the SPA are elected by all citizens 17 and older alongside members of local assemblies (compare governors vs senators in the US.) Elections are conducted via secret ballot. Anyone has the right to run for election regardless of party affiliation, which is why there are multiple parties represented in the SPA as well as independent members.

You can read more about the DPRK governmental structure in the DPRK constitution here:

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN] ❞

request by lovely detailing anon pairing: spencer reid x reader. summary: a date for your brother's wedding brings you more than you could ever hope for. content warnings: i think none, but feel free to tell me! very fluffy stuff ahead though. word count: 1,1k+

the first thing you told your mother when she began yapping about how you needed a date for the wedding was that she didn't need to worry, you got your girls! surely one of them would have an eligible bachelor to accompany you. you had the girls from work, two from college and even your sister-in-law could definitely help you out without the obnoxious interference of your mother.

sadly enough, as the ceremony got closer and closer the more spectacularly did the blind dates fail you. you insisted with the bau girls you did not want anyone from the bureau, emily tried with an old friend who worked in politics. completely boring and in severe need of a model trophy wife his parents approved of.

pen tried to set you up with some guy she met doing theater, he was fascinated by your job. too fascinated, like you were some character of a play that he needed to analyze, and if that wasn't bad enough, the ones you were set up by your civilian girls weren't any better, they were in fact worse. trembling the moment you told them you were an agent.

"i'm going alone, won't tell my mom that though." you finish the conversation leaving the reports from the last case on your desk. i'ts saturday morning and fortunately, you were back in time for your brother's wedding, no chance to skip it and blame it on work for this and already running back to the elevator, asking spencer to hold the doors for you.

"i can be your date, for the wedding, i mean." his voice sounds almost nonchalant, if not for a bit higher in pitch. you feel your face warm up at the idea, surely if you had enough courage in your personal life as you showed in the field, you would've asked him months before, but apparently fate was on your side.

"really? i don't want to disturb you, i—" you shake your head softly, trying to be less avoidant, you wanted him to go, he offered to go. "i would really like that, actually."

"i'm happy to. this way you're at least guaranteed someone who isn't afraid of fbi female agents." the way his shoulders shrug up and his nose moves in a soft crunch makes your heart swell. "historically bridesmaids were to dress the same as the bride to deceive evil spirits—" he's interrupted by the elevator doors opening, but you both keep the same pace as you leave the building, wanting to keep talking to each other. "though surely you won't be dressing in white, what color are you wearing should i match my tie to it?"

"that's very thoughtful, spen." too thoughtful even, you might just swoon if you don't control yourself. "it's black tie required for bridal party dates actually, is that okay?"

"i can arrange that." even if he didn't have a black tie attire at home already, which he did, spencer would rent one if he had to, he wouldn't be happy about it, but he would do whatever necessary.

his eyes glance from your dress to your fidgeting fingers a few times before speaking up. "you're nervous." he knows that's not the first thing he should be saying after seeing you all dressed up, but he can't help it.

"oh—sorry, i'm just worried about my family meeting you." you didn't even think about your choice of words, not paying attention to the way it made spencer flinch, his smile falling instantly.

"do you want me to be less... me? i can try." eyes widened up, you shake your head quickly, hands going to his chest in what you believed was a comforting manner.

"i want them to be less... them. you're great, perfect even. they can be kind of rude, that's all." perfect even. his smile quickly comes back to his face, placing his own hands over yours with a squeeze.

"unrelated but, you look great, perfect even." his repeating of your words makes you laugh, spinning around to show him the full look before thanking him. he looks stunning, dashing even, but you feel like the way your eyes can't look away from him for long might show him that.

you were right to be worried about your family, a bunch of drunk alpha males who didn't believe the work you did in the fbi weren't the most friendly bunch to spencer, but he had his fun responding to their jabs with knowledge and sarcasm, checking your reactions every time and always getting a laugh in response.

your mother seemed to like him though, saying you two were a great match, which you tried to deny, shrug it off since you two were just friends and you somehow knew your mom would like anyone you took as long as you didn't show up alone again to a family event.

as he held you close to dance, spinning you around and making you dizzy from all the champagne, and as his hands stopped at your hips to look at you, you wished to yourself you truly were a great match, and that he felt it as much as you, and the saw it as much your family saw it.

by the end of the night he was the one holding your heels, your bag and your scarf while calling a taxi to the venue to pick you both up. happily laying your head on his shoulder the whole way back to your apartment.

spencer had to accompany you back into your place, he wasn't about to leave you by the building's entrance or the elevator, it was only reasonable to help you all the way through.

for you, it was only reasonable to ask him to spend the night, your couch was comfortable enough especially after a whole night of dancing and walking around trying to keep up with you. it was only reasonable for him to accept it.

"hey spen..." you had gone to your bedroom to find anything comfortable for him to wear, coming back only minutes later, still dressed up. "thanks for today, i had a great time." you say handing him the pijama bottoms you thought could fit him.

"i always have a great time with you." his hands brush lightly against yours and you feel a shiver down your spine, gluing your eyes to his in hopes he felt it too.

in a second he's placing his hands on your neck, kissing you with lust of at least months of yearning, taking your breath away and making you enjoy the lack of oxygen and control. you don't even have to think about reciprocating it, no hesitance, like you have been always at the ready for it and you bite his lower lip the second he tries to pull away.

"i always have a great time with you too." you whisper waiting to have an even greater time with him, the smirk on his lips showing you he hoped for the same.