#hanger discourse

[ixxivvv]

small in your coat.

zayne, sylus, caleb.

(written by me in 15+hr makeup and contacts crouching on the station floor as i wait for the last train after a shitty night club shift, yearning for a dream to make me feel protected, in their coat.)

-⛄️ zayne ❄️-

made from well tailored houses, all his jackets had structure to them. shoulders wide and thick fabrics.

"Heading home." he sent to you, in mind you are waiting in his home. your night together, sleeping in his place for tonight for no particular reason was going to begin after a while of being busy with each others work: and you couldn't wait.

you explore his apartment in curiosity, a place you are familiar with now. his room still felt like you were entering his world. no dust, everything was in order and tidy. it still felt so wide and neat, in contrast to your casual attire now.

you opened his cabinets and drawers, observing the entire thing. you find bits and pieces of your favorite memories together- the shirt he wore to your first date together, the sweater you gifted him, and all of his coats on the hanger. reaching for one, the classic burberry trench coat and resting it on your shoulders. it just felt like a back hug- he may be cold but only you know how warm and kind he was. it nest heavy on you, nearly dragging the ends to the floor, the sleeves too long too. in his pocket, something crinkles- a piece of bonbon chocolate and a candy. it made you smile, as you look into the mirror.

as you felt him, the entrance door opens. "darling? im home..." you scurry over, "forgetting" to take your new cape on. "welcome home! :)"

he expresses that micro expression he often does- his pupils widening and looking to the side, almost processing his next move. but this time, he couldn't find words. was it too much? you tilt your head, peeping into him. ".. zayne?"

he managed to look at you, then suddenly grips your shoulders tight. he gasps and flushes,

"... did you miss me that much?"

- 🐦‍⬛sylus 🚗-

his biker jacket, thick leather with a thrashing pattern in his signature colors. the one you hold on tight to from his back when you two are on a joyride. in fancy outings with a dress he order made, he subtly pushes you forward: to show his beautiful girl, to lead the way and only when you seem lost he stands by your side.

he rarely showed his back, which is why you enjoyed joyrides. sylus hasn't taken you out for a dinner or party or anything for a while due to discourse and in fighting between groups. arrests, leadership changes, moving positions and disagreements. it was hectic and n109 zone was not safe now- less people in the streets. he kept you inside which is fine, but even without luke and kieran in the home, only mephisto kept you company for now.

eye rolling media coverage that would never have enough air time of what truely happened, social media discourse of what happened...

"mephisto-h... where is sylus?" and the high tech shows a display of his current location. still out there in some meeting with some people you wouldn't want to know. its all so hectic just looking at it. the cons of being a "mafia boss boyfriend's girlfriend" trope is going to your day job and watching people at work come and go, no idea of anything and the kind of people youve come to known and their struggles. its all just outsiders. you loved sylus, you really did, and more than the thrilling adrenaline. a kind of world which youve come to know that he is there in because he can't live anywhere else. the kind of loneliness and disconnect from people that "don't watch the news" or it's "too dark".

your heavy legs dragged you into his closet. opening the doors, it smelled of his cologne and dry cleaners. but you reached out for the only jacket that dosen't particularly smell of anything- his biker jacket. its made with protective plates and leather. it faintly smelled of his cologne and petrol. maybe you did miss the thrill of when you first got together. or the wind.

"kitten?" sylus walks in, surprising you.

"sylus? you were home?" "why, unhappy to see me? well, i can clearly see you wanted to see me." he chuckles and looks into you lovingly, like a kitten caught in a ball of yarn. caught redhanded, so small in his jacket all curled up like a blanket. he lifts you up, bridal style- so adorable, pretending to not miss him with your words but so clearly did.

sylus decided in that moment, that the discourse needs to end- to bring a sense of "peace" back.

- ✈️ caleb 🍎-

(soo theres a canon audio that you steal his jacket aand... well this will be based off that 😭)

caleb called you to eat dinner from downstairs- "y/n! dinners ready~!" he said so happily, he enjoyed cooking but he loves "playing" house with you.

but you weren't coming down, so he placed the pan in the middle of the table and headed upstairs? where were you now? werent you just taking a shower? still in the shower prohaps? however his instincts, senses you were in his room. his big footsteps, open to a sight he didn't expect.

you were already changed with no makeup, but you had your hands behind your back, staring into his closet like an art piece.

"did you, find my clothes interesting?" you took back by surprise, eyes widening. he informs you that dinners ready and guides you downstairs around your shoulder. you seemed to be in thought still, "i wonder whats in her head again." caleb ponders.

as you sit across him from the dinner table, chewing - still in thought. he couldn't leave it.

"pipsqueak, whats on your mind?" ".. nothing. pass the soy sauce?" his eyes lose its spark.

as he showered that night, washing his hair down in his own thoughts. he could feel himself getting anxious, triggering his own core and attempting to coax himself out of it. hes practicing not to doubt you so much.

he sighs as he steps out the shower in a single towel wrapped around his waist, just to see you sitting in the corner of his bed again, dangling your legs. you just stared into him, only with one thing. his colonel jacket hauled on your tiny shoulders. you were sitting on the long tail of the trench, the back stitching that resembles mechanical wings rests on your back. your soft features contrasted with the black color that faintly smelled of iron.

"...", he had no words, whether in disbelief or just how small you were in his build. if you stood up, the coat might drag across the floor. you fury your brows, sensing that he didn't enjoy the gesture. it was childish, but the details on his coat was impressive- no fraying or loose thread, some signs of wear. it sat heavy on you, emotionally and physically.

but caleb also adored it- his brute power and fear in the jacket suddenly seemed softer in your touch. how he'd just let you.

".. you like the colonel that much? or the owner of this uniform?" you touch the gold stitching, teasing him a bit more.

".. then, i must bow down to the colonel." he gets on his knee, softly taking your foot. he was still in his towel, but you knew what was going to happen-

and you loved it. crossing your arms, roleplaying your power. caleb smirks and places a kiss on your ankle.

".. you have the full authority to command me. i shall serve you, my entire body.." as he kisses up your foot and thigh- only you can do this to the actual colonel himself.

[woman-respecter]

Did you see the People's March official website's code of conduct for the protest? In the section about what not to bring to the march they say that people shouldn't bring imagery of wire coat hanger to represent illegal abortions or references the Handmaid's Tale. Coming off anon for it because I am still not over how stupid this is and I need to show it

This reads like actual Tumblr speech. Like genuinely deeply tumblr focused "white woman feminism discourse" kind of speech. I am not american but I am genuinely blown away that an org is seriously doing this. Self managed illegal abortions ARE dangerous, not having access to medical care is genuinely a huge danger for women who live in parts of the world where abortion is illegal. A book about misogyny isn't oppressive because white women talk about... Like oh my god.

yeah the logic behind these makes nooooo sense. the handmaid’s tale one in particular sounds sooo Online. i will say i think some self-managed abortions like with plan c pills are actually very safe, but that’s obviously not what the coat hanger refers to.

[centrally-unplanned]

VOR: Hitler and Stalin

They are both S-tier, you can't touch the greats. The thing that set both of them apart is how much more radical they were then virtually everyone else around. The Nazi party was a rotating door of factional hanger-ons that Hitler brought into the room, used, and then dusted the moment they quaked or deviated. Time and again when cementing power other faction leaders went "surely, he won't-" and then the fucker did and put a bullet in their brain to make sure they got the message. He called the bluff of his military, his party ranks, and the governments of Britain and France on more than one occasion and annexed nations and stunned the world for his trouble. The guy fucking cheated death, more than once - he has no VOR because he cannot be replaced. He is certainly in the running for the most impactful political leader of all time, nothing is the same without him. Your feed is 80% discourse about the Gaza Strip today because of him, you live in his world.

Stalin is the same, and in particular what I want to emphasize is that the history of the USSR is not, at all, the history of dictatorship. Lenin was during the insurrection, but once it was a governing body he played that card way less, and by his death it was a full party oligarchy. And it would be that after Stalin too. That was the status quo and everyone pretty-much expected it to stay that way when Lenin died. We all rule together. Stalin had other ideas, and to make sure you understood his point he executed 700,000 political dissidents in three years. If you look at debates in the Soviet bodies in ~1925, its really obvious no one had this on their radar. Bukharin and Trotsky and Khalinin had no plan for this. Even people like Beria, specifically elevated by Stalin and widely hated at the start as bloody barbarians, would pivot-switch the moment Stalin died and start asking "what the fuck we were all doing exactly?" while emptying the gulags.

The USSR would have had totalitarian social structures, don't confuse me here. But the gap between Stalin & Xi Jinping is orders of magnitude, they aren't comparable. The USSR had many Xi Jinping's, it had many Lenin's. It only had one Stalin.

[bisexual-kane]

One particularly obnoxious strand of bad AEW discourse is that Tony Khan is some kind of tyrant booker who forces wrestlers into spots/storylines/promos that are dangerous/uncomfortable.

(Kenny taking bumps Wednesday and Ospreay's shot at Triple H come to mind.)

I may be wrong, but at one time, AEW didn't really function like WWE where Vince dictated everything. Instead, wrestlers pitched their own ideas and Tony gave them a thumbs up or thumbs down.

It's kind of why a lot of WWE refugees like Andrade El Idolo felt like they didn't do much. Without Triple H/Vince dictating a story, what were they to do? Malachi Black in particular totally has the vibes of a guy who has really, really cool ideas--but they are ideas and not stories, so despite House of Black being heavily featured, it feels like they never do anything.

Meanwhile, The Elite (and all of their friends/hangers-on/dick riders) have spent a lot of time developing their own characters and improv skills through New Japan, ROH, PWG, and (I cannot emphasize this enough) BTE. Jon Moxley in particular when he bailed on WWE talked up a lot about how he wanted the freedom to improv promos and that he didn't need a script because that ain't wrestling to him. You can also see people like Christian Cage and Adam Copeland (and even Chris Jericho), who left WWE by choice who are really excited to be in AEW because they get a chance to flex creative muscles they didn't get to in WWE and they are doing really interesting and cool things.

(I mean, I know we are all sour on Chris Jericho right now in 2024, but Inner Circle Jericho was a really great heel champion.)

Again, I am totally just an outside fan who has no inner knowledge. But at least at one point, AEW was trying to be a more collaborative environment. Tony Khan has final say about what goes on the show, but the talent themselves are doing a lot of pitching the ideas about what ends up on it.

Like, Tony is not making Will Ospreay go out there and take shots at Triple H against his will. Stop making up a villain in your head, people. jeeze.

[cicaedahums]

YIPPIE!!!

Alright, tbh: there was a point, basically RIGHT when he was patched up where I was like IMMEDIATELY tired of Mr. Shrimp Alien. But he's grown on me, in part bc I think the mangaka has been very good about not having him overstay his welcome.

He's around, and that matters, but he's not like. Some annoying hanger-on who constantly butts in for """comic relief""" like I was SO so afraid he would be. Yet again, I should have more faith in Dandadan, but, like, in a metered way.

In lieu of actually sharing a montage of the house being built:

Aira and Chiquita

Omg she really is as high-spirited as Jiji suggested lol

Me: Well that was a good read but I'm ready to see things that aren't just Jiji and Evil Eye-centered

Dandadan: You stupid fuck. Unlimited Jiji works.

I'm not complaining though. <:]

The ball is in the apartments, I repeat: The ball is in!!! the apartments!!!

And then there's Discourse Boy.

I've heard of you! Lets see if I fall on the love or hate side.

...I'll leave him on the backburner

"They ate my ball. And then they're gonna eat me! Oh my gooooooooo--"

ngl this took me three passes to get the joke/what pissed momo off

At any rate, he's fully committed to helping basically w/o prompting which is interesting.

Now what the fuck. Is this.

[furryprovocateur]

truthfully i probably could've worded that post more carefully but, as always, i did not expect it to get notes nor did i want to invite a huge discourse about it. i just wanted to complain about getting inundated with spam texts and emails and advertisements and mail and door hangers and 😭

[0alanasworld0]

Hero (Abde Ezzalzouli x reader)

Description: Abde gets his chance to wind down and relax with you after ending his extended season and finally with a gold medal around his neck.

warnings: sexual jokes, references to sex (no descriptions)

“HEY!” He yells , waving his arms around, a big smile plastered on his face.

Oh god. You thought. That was your surprise ruined. You were hardly close to the front row so you had hope that he wouldn't notice you among the crowds but alas. You attempt to hide your face and turn around but you can faintly hear him say something first

“I can see you, silly! No point hiding now!” He laughs and you relent, giving him a shy wave.

Everyone around you in the stadium is looking in your general direction and they take a while to register who he’s referring to. Eventually their eyes do lay on his mother who sat next to you and it doesn’t take them very long to connect the dots when they see your flustered face and the number 16 jersey that was just a little too big on you.

You can’t help but laugh as well when you see him beckon over his teammates, pointing you out to them. You want to be stern with him but he’s so cute. Ibrahim is the first to notice you among the crowd, somehow going even crazier than Abde at the sight of you.

You had grown quite close to the team. From the way Abde spoke of them when they weren’t around to the way they were when you first met them, they didn’t disappoint at all. They were indeed extremely energetic almost beyond belief, like your little cousins but somehow even more so. In a fairly short space of time, they had become family to him. 

He wasn’t overjoyed at the news of his ‘demotion’ to the under-23s. And he certainly didn’t like the word ‘demotion’ either. When he had come to terms with the fact, he was constantly reminding himself that it wasn’t that at all. Not for the role he was expected to play, anyway. Nevertheless, the social media discourse referring to it that way never failed to irritate him. 

He had no idea that he was going to become the official captain and armed with that information, he maybe wouldn’t have felt so down about his placement. The questions that constantly circled in his head soon dissipated when he first got a glimpse of that blue band. It sat pretty on the hanger which held his jersey. That was still the same at least. Another sign that he was nowhere near out of the count. He was still a part of his national team, he was still appreciated but he supposed that the new role would be perfect for his development. 

It was different from the senior team. He couldn’t blame his older teammates for passing to the safer options, of course Ounahi would think of passing to Hakim or Youssef before him. Matches needed winning and the other forwards certainly knew a lot about that. Much more than he did. Although he still wished for more chances, just a little bit of faith but alas. 

Although the first concession did almost send him swirling into a panic, he managed to pull himself together and was sure to not repeat old mistakes. His teammates trusted him with everything as captain and he wasn’t going to break that. This would seal off his redemption if all went well.

“Went well” didn’t do him justice at all. The trust from his teammates and coaches was turning him into a true monster. Everything was on the upturn: his passing, communication, decision-making. He wasn’t the little Neymar-wannabe he used to be, he was serious and he was going to fight tooth and nail for the win.

That fire was exactly what led him to the present. They made reaching the finals look so easy, it was almost funny but now was the true test. It was no secret that Egypt had been achieving similar performances. They were good. In the intimidating way: darkness on their faces, ruthless, knew how to get under players’ skin. Abde had picked up on enough of their habits to know just how to work around them. They were good but there were weak points he was going to take advantage of. He was worried, of course, but more than anything he was excited.

“Man, you had better not let your girl distract you!” Ayman slaps the back of his head and Abde pushes him off, attempting to shake off his love-struck haze.

“Oh please, this is just more motivation! Not like you would know what this is like!” Abde scoffs and he’s met with another slap on the head before they both get back to warming up.

Of course, you couldn’t hear a word but you were worried about him being distracted too. You hoped that your presence would be a surprise for the end of the match - you were pretty sure of the result even if he wasn't - he wasn’t supposed to catch you out like this among the crowd. Apparently fate had other plans.

Your worries didn’t really settle because even while warming up, he was constantly looking over at you and pointing you out to even more of his teammates and making cute little faces. It was sweet and your heart fluttered at the idea that he always had you on his mind, enough to catch you in the middle of such a crazy mob like this one. Proud to show you off to anyone and everyone who would entertain him. Nonetheless, he needed to get his head in the game and eventually coach Charai does, physically, knock some sense into him and he finally diverts his attention away from you.

The start of the match is far from picture-perfect, the team looks good but much to their annoyance, Egypt does too. And they’re not going easy on your love either. Every chance he gets on the ball feels like a death-wish with the tackles they were trying. Especially with the first concession, an absolute screamer of a longshot, they don’t back down. They look hungrier and their tackles get more and more reckless. 

Of course Abde had anticipated it, he wouldn’t dare let himself get injured like that but he could certainly frame the players for trying. His plan finally comes to fruition with one wrong move. A tackle that digs straight into Abde’s ankle and you wince immediately. It looks awful and you couldn’t tell whether it was one of those times he was playing it up. Thankfully a red card comes after what felt like years of deliberating. Of course, your Abde got up just fine, raring to go with the new advantage they had.

But still, they’re a pain to break past. There was no doubt that the boys were doing great, but still. They still needed that cut-through, they weren’t going down without the fight of their lives, that was for sure. 

It feels like years but it’s a very welcomed shock to the system when one finally does bury itself into the back of the net. As the crowd around you goes wild, the only thing you can feel is relief. You can’t even bring yourself to scream because you were beyond exhausted. The stress you were feeling from the match was finally simmering down. They were still in it, far from being done. 

Once again, you feel your heart in your throat as your love goes to take a free kick. What was most certainly going to be the last of the night. You knew that free kicks were far from his specialty, he’d complained about his inability to take them in the past. You were always so sure that he was simply being harsh on himself but at this very moment, you hoped with everything you had that your assumption was correct. There was an underlying fear that he was, in fact, right. The way he was taking his sweet time didn't really help either.

You can feel the tension in the air, the otherwise ear-shattering screeching of the crowd quieting into an uncomfortable silence. It was almost painful, the sense of dread was apparent across the stadium.

You can see Abde finally set the ball down, Bilal pushing a player that was getting too close for any of their liking. One thing catches your eye, though. A straggling player to Abde’s side, barely moving. It was as if he was trying as hard as he could to remain invisible. Not a single Egyptian player thought to mark him so perhaps it was working.

It was as if you could hear the entire stadium suck in a breath as Abde takes his step towards the ball and you all expect a rocket of a ball to fly through, the Egyptian players do too as they all jump from their wall formation in an attempt to clear but nothing. A quick cross to his side, barely visible and right to the straggler. It has everyone in the box completely blindsided and there's a frantic scatter, a mix of red and white shirts all pushing and shoving. It's all so messy that the ball flies, almost completely unnoticed from the straggler and finally, FINALLY, into the back of the net.

It's almost too quick to process and there's a moment of near-complete silence as realisation settles in. The roar that emanates across the little stadium is practically deafening, ear-popping. 15 minutes on the clock and the deadlock finally broken. The red shirts all piling in on each other to celebrate the breakthrough. Your Abde may not have had the best track record with free-kick goal attempts but he certainly had his wits about him.

This time, you scream. As loud as you can manage. You can’t hear yourself amidst all the other chaos but you feel your throat strain. It was so close, you could envision your love already lifting that trophy. You were confident now because if there was one thing this team knew how to do, it was defend. They would do it with their lives. 15 minutes.

Chaos was what it was. A blur of tackles and wasteful long passes by your beloved red shirts. Screams of frustration from the whites. A little bit of extra time-wasting and showboating by Bellaarouch who was perhaps treading very fine line but with 5 minutes on the clock, you supposed that he could care less. 

It was evident that the Egyptian players had all but given up. Their best players off the pitch now to be replaced with subs that, if anything, were only wasting more time for themselves. Some rather pathetic last-ditch attempts at earning a penalty, their only hope, but it was very clearly over.

You reach the dying seconds of the game and the tension rebuilds itself rapidly as you all await the final whistle. So so close. The wait was painful and you supposed that your impatience wasn't really speeding things up.

The players and coaches all lined up at the edges of the pitch, hands on their heads. Some raise theirs in prayer. Literal seconds. An exhausted Egyptian and an antsy Moroccan one. Seconds and the stadium had gone quiet as everyone awaited that final whistle. 

You can only hear the beautiful sound for a second before the whole stadium is lit up with screams and sparklers. It was pure electricity in there, it moved throughout the stadium and through your body. Visceral. Some manage to make it onto the pitch from the front seats and the players are all piling on each other to celebrate. The Egyptian players all frozen in their spots, defeated as ever and with very little sympathy from the sea of red that surrounded them. 

You only see the flash of red for a second before you’re enveloped in his arms and it quite literally knocks the breath out of you. He was so excited and had seemingly forgotten how strong he was so the impact paired with the squeeze around your frame was a shock to your system. The adrenaline is rushing through you too so you manage to recover too, one hand on his back and the other on the back of his head, pulling him into your neck and you feel his tears fall onto your shoulder. Months and months of doubting himself, hours of you talking him down from his panicked ramblings. All of that pain and stress had finally settled and it all felt so worth it. He had come so far and words couldn’t describe just how proud you were of him.

He pulls his face from your neck and lets his forehead rest against yours. Lips only centimetres away from yours and you can see his eyes drift. There’s nothing you want to do more than kiss him, among other things, but with the crowd surrounding you - and his mum right there - you knew it would be best to wait.

“Abde, behave yourself.” you whisper so only he could hear and he grins, rolling his eyes and opting to kiss your forehead and the tip of your nose before hugging you to his chest. You could feel him physically relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. He rocks you back and forth for a while before letting you go and trapping his mum in the same, bone-crushing hug. 

He has to leave you both again as the podiums were laid out for the awards ceremony, the gold medals all ready and waiting for them. Abde’s golden boot, his first ever, waiting there as well alongside the AFCON trophy. Your heart could burst with pride for him and it felt like a genuine possibility when you watched him receive his golden boot. You weren’t as far away anymore so you could see the look on his face: amazement and disbelief. Of course, you had always known what he could do but even with the award in his hands he still couldn’t believe it. 

You quickly grew impatient as you waited for him to receive his medal because of course he had placed himself at the back of the line. The silver medallists get it over with pretty quickly, barely looking up and avoiding the camera flashes, only a few of them keeping the medals on as they walked down the line. It felt like time had slowed to a near pause as the Moroccan players received their accolades. And of course, the love of your life was right at the back of the line as he held the responsibility of lifting the trophy as well. You were growing antsy, counting down the players until it was finally time. The shock had finally worn off and now he just looked ecstatic. He had recently developed a not-so-nice habit of denying himself such celebrations but it seemed that he was finally allowing himself to revel in the satisfaction.

 He gets the first lift of the trophy to himself before he’s ushered to where his teammates were all standing. He takes his sweet time to reach them, in bouncing steps; much like his football hero only months prior. One final, especially a big leap and he finally raises the trophy with his vice captain almost perfectly in-sync with the beat of the music. Green, red and gold streamers everywhere and fireworks lighting up the sky above. 

Once the main photos are taken and after yet another victory lap of the stadium, Abde rushes over to you and practically drags you, his mum and his brother down to the field so you could all celebrate properly.

The cheering felt so different on the grass, it hadn’t quietened down at all and the way it all just surrounded you now. It was something so so special. The noise and colours hit you in every direction equally and you felt overwhelmed yet amazed at the same time. He takes you around so you can meet with his teammates again, now without the stress of the match weighing them down. His arm doesn’t leave your shoulder once as you make your rounds. As always, ready and waiting to show you off to everyone.

Although you don’t say, he knows that you don’t find any of the conversations particularly entertaining. How could you? Your world was so different from his and even though you were so deeply in love with each other in spite of it all, he could never blame you for struggling to understand things. He makes sure to slip a joke to you every once in a while, whispering in your ear the second everyone’s looking away, sneaking in gentle kisses onto your cheek and temple. At least you both think everyone’s looking away but the photographers had gotten quite sneaky so some of the sweet moments were captured anyway. The internet would have a field day with those photos, as they always did. 

Over the course of the on-field celebrations, his arm drifts down from your shoulder to your waist which he gently squeezes every once in a while, just to remind you that your AFCON gold-medallist was still there and soon to be all yours.

Once the main crowd on the field had left, many of the journalists and photographers, he ushers you all to sit down on the podium steps and before you go to sit next to him, you feel him gently tugging at your wrist. You pause, looking at him in slight confusion and he pats the spot in front of him and between his legs. Your eyes widen, slightly bewildered and he shrugs nonchalantly, pulling you down so you could finally relax. It wasn’t like his family cared anyway, they adored you as if you were theirs and there was no doubt that you were a good influence on their boy. 

Although you manage to create some distance between the pair of you, he’s not having any of it so he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you so that your back is against his chest. Thankfully his mum appears to be distracted talking to one of the other players but his brother was very much still there and you could hear him chuckle. He didn’t mind the behaviour at all but he found Abde’s infatuation with you absolutely hilarious. It wasn’t even just now, it was a pattern of behaviours that left him without a doubt in his mind about how in love his little brother was with you. It was impressive. 

“You idiot, there are still photographers around!” you scold and he only responds with a kiss to your temple.

“Anjo, come on! I deserve a reward, no?” he teases and you roll your eyes, although he can’t see. You imagined he was quite proud of that double-meaning. You pretend to be annoyed but the second you hear him start to laugh, you can’t help but chuckle quietly at his dumb joke.

Once you finally relax into his hold, he’s quick to remove the medal from around his neck and place it around yours instead. You distract yourself playing with the heavy, golden disc as he gives his final interviews of the night. You know he’s done when his head drops down onto your shoulder and his hands move to cup yours.

“We really did it.” he sighs as you press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I told you!” you point out and he hides his face in the crook of your neck while you tease him. He keeps you close for a while, enjoying the way you were loosening up a little as the last of the photographers left. The final few did manage to sneak some more shots of the pair of you before leaving but that was the next day's problem, you were none the wiser for the time-being.

“The armband looks nice.” you mumble and he smirks.

“You’ve mentioned it one or two times.” He wants to tease you more for your infatuation with the thing, maybe get a few more compliments or even a hint as to what was to come. but alas he’s whisked away by his teammates for the locker room celebrations while the rest of you are ushered to where the after party was going to be.

Eventually his brother and mum end their night early and make their way back to the hotel but not before waving Abde their goodbyes. A congratulatory hug from his mum and a punch from his brother, just like when they were younger. 

The party itself is quite the spectacle, the hotel reception lavishly decorated and filled with all of the players’ family members. The excited chatter was somewhat refreshing from the noise of the stadium with the emotions still running sky-high. Yet there was some semblance of peace, you could hear your thoughts and somehow that only made things more exciting and you were itching to see the love of your life come through those doors again, you certainly weren’t going to be leaving him for the rest of the night. 

You make use of the spare time to go and talk with your fellow WAGs but the room nears silence when the hotel staff announce the players’ imminent entrance. You didn’t need much indication because you could hear their loud yapping from a mile away. The tense silence is worth it when you manage to spook the boys with the loudest cheers and hollers you could all manage. It was like being back at the stadium when the party quickly hit full-swing, the cheering and the chants echoing down the walls of the venue. It was pretty large but it somehow became suffocating as you weaved through the crowds trying to find YOUR winner. He was searching too, you couldn’t have been too difficult to spot with the giant gold medal still around your neck.

After a good couple minutes of scanning, he’s finally able to spot you lost as ever in the middle of the hall, frantically looking around. He’s quick to end your misery, bounding over, tunnel-vision preventing him from responding to anyone trying to talk to him. He doesn’t want to scare you too badly so he resists the urge to pick you up and hug you from behind. Instead, a little tap on your shoulder and he’s only able to saviour the relief on your face for a split second before you throw yourself at him for a hug.

“I missed you.” you mumble into his ear and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“We were only out for a couple of hours!” he laughs and you remove your head from under his chin, creating a bit of distance before slapping his chest.

“I don’t see your point.” you say matter-of-factly, returning to resting your head on his chest while he rocks you both back and forth. You hoped that you would be able to stay like this for a lot longer than the hug in the stands but he’s pulled off you and you’re both dragged to the centre of the hall and up onto the tables as the chanting began once more.

Abde manages to get his instagram live working again to share the craziness with everyone, for once featuring you which has the live chat even more stoked than before. He kept his family life as private as he possibly could and he had been pretty successful in that, no one outside of his circle even knew the amount of siblings he had. He was even more secretive about you. Your face was known and practically nothing else so any little snippet of your relationship elicited a lot of excitement from the fans. There were a few photos of the pair of you celebrating together and he had mentioned you a handful of times during his interviews. That was really all they had and you were happy to keep it that way. Break-up rumours circulated pretty often with the lack of content but it only served to make the pair of you laugh.

Today, emotions were running high. All positive of course so having the pair of you on live together didn’t feel wrong at all, you were too overcome with excitement to care about any of that. Not the haram police, not the jealous girls that lurked around his page, none of that mattered today.

The party goes on for what feels like years and you’re both so relieved by the time you reach the hotel room. It was lavish to say the least, nothing but the best for you but he hadn’t spent much time in there himself. And for the little time he did spend, he was strictly off any “boyfriend-girlfriend” activities, as much as that pained him. Having you massage his aching muscles at the end of his gruelling training sessions did a number on him yet he couldn’t do anything. And you certainly weren’t one to go against the rules either.

He had plenty of images in his head of all the things he wanted to do to you, and you had plenty of ideas of how you were going to reward him but the second he fell onto the bed… 

“Anjo I don’t think i can move from here.” he sounds disappointed of course but you couldn’t blame him. It had been a rough few weeks, non-stop work as a kay player and captain. He didn’t have time to be exhausted for a solid two weeks and it was crashing down the very second his mind was freed of the stresses of the tournament.

You make your way out of the en-suite, makeup off and only donning one of his shirts over your underwear.

“You could at least get yourself under the covers, no?” you joke and he thinks for a second.

“Well I was hoping that, y’know…” he leaves the statement open, hoping that you’ll catch onto his request because now that he’s actually able to take a second, his back is absolutely killing him. He manages to get his shirt off, not without groaning in pain and you finally do catch on.

“Can you keep the armband?” you ask quietly, and he laughs, enduring the pain he feels in his back even from that. He doesn’t press further and he relents, leaving it on for you.

You quickly get yourself into position, grabbing the lotion and straddling the backs of his thighs. His back is peppered with bruises and a couple of nasty looking scrapes, scabbed over so you supposed he got those in one of his many scraps in the last match. 

You start with the knots on the back of his neck and he immediately sinks into the sheets, sighing out in relief as you worked your magic on his tense and sore muscles. Even with the massages you gave him in between every training session, after the other matches, nothing could hold up against the amount of work he was doing. Of course it was all worth it in the end, the gold medal very much still around your neck. But it had taken its toll on his body and he was finally processing the amount of pain he was in.

you’re careful to not put too much pressure on his bruises as you slowly work your way down his back. He gives you the occasional grunt of approval, sighing as he feels the pain melt away at the tips of your fingers.

“So warm…” he compliments, taking a deep breath in and revelling in the way it didn’t hurt anywhere near as badly as it did before you worked your magic.

“That’s my freak trick!” you joke, it was true though. Your hands were always weirdly warm, even in the cold winter months. Your hands always persisted as mini space heaters and it was something he absolutely adored about you. His hands always firmly grasped yours whenever he needed warming up.

“You’re not a freak!” you scoff at that.

“You’re not! You’re an angel who’s perfect in every way, hands and all.” he assures and you chuckle at his certainty, he really never gave you room to doubt yourself. You were the definition of pure perfection in his eyes. Nothing could come close to you and when you did things like this for him, it only solidified his beliefs.

“Those defenders were…”

“Getafe-standard ankle-breakers.” he mutters, annoyed at even the thought of them. Not that he was wrong, playing low-block in what was supposed to be a super important final was… a choice. And indeed very akin to Getafe.

“You got the better of them though, hmm? Made them look like fools out there.”

“Not before they tried to shatter my legs. That Diomande guy from Mali… now THAT'S a real defender!” he admits. He may have had an ego but you loved the way he was able to appreciate other players around him, even opposition. 

“What about the blond one? The Hopper?”

“Oh Atef? Yeah, he was an advantage to us if anything. How do you waste the dying minutes of a game YOU’RE losing to try and bag a penalty when you knock YOURSELF out?” he wonders and you can’t help but laugh. He was right, everyone had expected much better out of the guy who was supposed to be replacing their best player. You were sure Abde didn’t mind it at all. At the very least, they didn’t make the same mistake as they did against Mali. 

You continue to go about the expanse of his back, trying to keep him talking so he wouldn’t fall asleep on top of the covers. Asking about other players he had come across, his teammates, he mentions a food place that he wanted to take you to the next day.

By the time you’re done with him, he’s just about awake but you can tell that he’s ready to drift off at any given minute. You bend down to press soft kisses across the expanse of his back and shoulders, your hands doing one final swoop over the ridges and bumps, quietly admiring all the hard work he had put in. You thought he was built like a greek statue before but he had turned things up a notch and you were beyond obsessed.

“I love you, you know that right?” you mumble into the back of his neck and he hums in satisfaction and pleasure. He felt so much lighter after the massage but your soft lips doing a once-over? He felt like a whole new man.

“I love you more.” he mutters and you laugh. You’ve had this competition far too many times.

“You keep telling yourself that.” you move off him and tug at the blankets, hauling them over the pair of you. He shuffles towards you, finding comfort with his face pressed against your neck and arms wrapping around your middle. You keep one hand in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp to further help him drift off.

On a normal night, you would continue the little competition but he was beyond words at this point so you don’t speak another word. The comfortable silence and the feeling of your heart-beat lulls him to a peaceful, well-deserved slumber. You can feel his breaths slow and his grip around your waist loosen and you’re not too far behind him, allowing the sleep to take you over as well.

Your sleep is perfect and you wake up pretty early in the morning. Thankfully, before Abde so you get your chance to execute your plan. Somehow, during the night, you ended up back in your usual sleep position with you on top. The strong arm around your waist is still there but his grip is iron. It takes a while but you manage to wiggle out without waking him, although he does furrow his eyebrows and groan softly before quieting back down. 

You tiptoe to the bathroom and try to freshen up as quietly as you can manage. No makeup but you do your best to wash away the tiredness from your face before making your way back to the main bedroom. Not ideal but he is already up, wiping his eyes as he scans the room, a little confused with your absence but his eyes fill with relief when he sees you.

“Anjo?” you don’t respond just yet, slowly removing your sleep shirt to reveal what you had intended to treat him with yesterday. You supposed today would work just fine as well. His eyes widen a little but he’s quick to regain his composure and smirks as you saunter over to the queen-sized bed. The underwear really didn’t leave much to the imagination but you still heated up under his gaze, he made no effort to hide the way he was undressing you with his eyes.

“All for me?” he asks, as if he didn’t already know that answer very very well.

“You didn’t think I was going to let my captain go unrewarded for his work, did you?’ you pout as you place your legs on either side of his thighs. His hands rest on your hips and he draws small circles with the pads of his thumbs as he awaits your next move.

He has an idea before you can do anything though, carefully reaching the side of the bed frame to grab his gold medal. He places it around your neck and relaxes back into the bed, hands back on your hips.

“Come on, anjo. I think I’ve waited long enough…” 

heyyyyy... how y'all doing... I think I've got my motivation back lmfao. Stay in tuned for part two!!!!

[lumiambrose]

               I match you with Reo!! 

For starters, you two are really similar in the type of people you prefer; both of you are looking for people who can peak your interests. Honestly, with how Reo treats and handles Nagi, you can definitely tell that he will never treat you as a second choice or fallback option. Once Reo finds a "gem", he'll never let go of it, no matter what happens. 

With how both of you are really intelligent, getting along in the academic sense won't be a problem! Furthermore, although it's not explicitly stated anywhere, I feel Reo would definitely be interested in learning programming  with you! ^o^ 

Also, I feel Reo can definitely bring out the best in you, while you can naturally bring out the best in him too! Reo is driven and idealistic— he's trying to prove his self-worth, as he sees winning the world cup as a way to prove his existence, and he's determined. His determination carries on to how he acts towards the people whom he cares for. Honestly, you remind me a lot of Nagi, so I feel he would also try to give you the motivation, support and comfort to help you do your best (while also respecting your boundaries). Whenever you're feeling unmotivated or lazy, he'd always be there, trying to encourage you to have fun, perhaps gaming, going out, or even playing volleyball with you! He'd also love spending time with you, whether it be talking about each other's days or even just sitting together in each other's presence.

On the other hand.. Reo tends to sometimes think his worth lies in what he can provide and accomplish, and hence sometimes meet with huge barriers that gets him down. With how loyal you are, you'd be the perfect match to get him going again! (loyalty, a quality both of you share, is another reason why I think you two would work out really well!)

Reo is also just like a chameleon— adapting and changing to his surroundings based on the situation at hand. Just like how you also have different preferences based on the situation, he does too! And it just so happens that both of your way of thinking is pretty similar— so discourse in terms of decisions won't be an issue. 

Reo is also a pretty big fan of physical touch with his loved ones, and also definitely would love to gift you things that you like too! Look at this really pretty designer black bag through a glass window for too long? It's hanging with a small note attached on your hanger the next day. Feel your court shoes wearing out? You've got the most comfortable court shoes of your size Reo could find on your shoe rack the next day. Reo would definitely treasure whatever you gift him too! Whether it be bought or handmade, he'd probably keep it in a collection in his room to admire, and if it's portable he'll probably keep it with him wherever he goes as a good luck charm, even to his matches <3

Looking at your personality types and zodiac signs, you guys are also perfectly compatible! Seriously.... Leo x Gemini is one of the healthiest and top matches ever, and INTJ and ENTJs help to work on each other's weaknesses while also maintaining a healthy relationship. 

Your style in clothing has also got to be Reo's ideal. Literally everything about it, from the colour scheme down to the style. Definitely compliments you even before you start dating on how your fit looks! 

He'd also DEFINITELY show up to everyone of your volleyball games, cheering you on (and would also send you home in his fancy car while yapping about how cool you were!! :3 ) 

That being said though, Reo would love to introduce you to Nagi too! You three would probably play games together while Nagi mumbles about how he doesn't want to be a third wheeler yet still stays LOL 

other possible matches who might work: sae, hiyori, nagi

OH MY GODDDDD VAL YOU OUTDID YOURSELF!!!

this is my second reo pairing and it’s making me giggle so much 🤭

fucks sake this is so good

thank you for the match up exchange!!! <33

[plunder413]

Man, if anything has truly utterly "gone downhill" its analysis videos or as they're now called "video essays". Like, I was there for specific early youtubers to lay down the groundwork and sorta define art analysis as making your own art in turn. If you've been in certain anime circles, you know. What I was hoping for was breaking down the barriers of convention that restrict people's thoughts on art. I'm an extremely postmodern and subjectivist person, and I wanted individuals to bring out their own experiences, loose and everchanging, senseless, only defined by itself. Instead we just have people going "THIS THING U LIKE IS SECRETLY BAD" and making a 5 hour long video meticulously taking down something in the most boring and bad faith way possible.

Like, where is the schizo love letter to like Earthworm Jim or some shit. Where's the videos that have interesting editing and personality? Idk I feel like it's all just this dick measuring contest to see how cynical we can be. It's saddening. Analysis is supposed to be like sampling in music, taking this art and rearranging it to reflect your own psyche, a creative endeavor in its own, an exercise in love.

And like, I think the evidence lies in the fact that I just make my own art and don't bother with wider discourse on the stuff I'm into. Like, I like cartoons and anime so I made my own story. I like music so I make my own music. And I'm honestly happier. Maybe it's because most creative types don't want to sink into the modern discourse hole that continues to discourage creativity in favor of comfy homogenous distraction sludge that can also say "hey, gay people? cool as frick actually!". Like, yeah, I could watch an HBomberGuy video but I could also just eat spider eggs and have them hatch and crawl around my insides and that will be just as painful but infinitely more interesting.

Really, I've seen far better art analysis here than anything on fucking YouTube and I think that goes to show that as much as you can say about this site, it's a site ABOUT art and creativity. People who fundamentally understand creativity and are not just trying to find the most correct art. Because going down that road only gets you polished, easily accessible bland muck that only conveys the most vaguely left leaning thing with none of that icky abstraction or weird humany stuff. I am into the infinity creativity has to offer. I happen to like to see weird taboo sexuality that mixes psychological branches into a colorful slurry. I happen to like when reality is bent or shaped into an abstract nightmare realm. I also like seeing cute girls just hangin out. I also like SpongeBob SquarePants.

Really what this comes down to also is a western standards being prioritized over all else. Which is dumb. And racist! Like, anime is a different culture that prioritizes different shit. I'm not even just talking about lolicon and shit, I'm talking like, fundamentally being stuck in these super intense, gritty narratives that maintain a consistent tone based on fast moving action and cliff hangers. Sorry but the idea of a maturity being stoic gritty cynicism is a very American idea, and shit is just different when looking beyond the western mainstream. And sometimes its not this presentable G rated thing you can call "chilling" and "breathtaking" sometimes it's a surreal atmospheric comedy with pervy jokes that deconstructs Japanese culture with very specific references and media tropes. Everypony should watch Neo Ranga btw, and I will once it can't trigger me because fuck that show feels like a nightmare. I'm using primarily anime examples because that's the foreign media I'm most familiar with.

Basically conservatism is a virus infecting even the self described anarchists and progressives and leftists because I can't handle having a strong emotion because I'm so pants shittingly scared of the current climate of Things(TM).

[starburnedkisses]

every time i rewatch the jesus he knows me cover by ghost i am instantly thrown back to the Insane bi discourse that people were going on about immediately after it premiered and whether it was "ethical" to call jim bi because he gave a woman a clothing hanger to make her have an abortion. like. guys i hate to break it to you but that man is Not Real. why do we care so much

[duchessofostergotlands]

I think I finally found someone who’s just like me but you’re an online person 😭

I also watch films/tv shows months after it airs or released, or when the hype dies down, because of noise. It’s like, I want to enjoy it on my own, not because I’m too cool for mainstream stuff (lol I’m not, I’m a basic bitch). Maybe because hype ruins things for me and I don’t want to read everyone’s opinions on the show while I’m still watching it.

Last year or was it the year before, when a super popular show came out, everyone on social media was on the side of this one team. When I finally got around to watching it after the season was over, I found myself being on the other side 🫣 so glad I wasn’t watching it while everyone else was or I would’ve been screaming at social media or second guessing myself

Hahaha kindred spirits! So for TV shows I prefer watching things when they're finished. That way I know exactly how many seasons I have, how many episodes, how many hours, so I can pace myself properly and control how often I watch it. I'm not watching everything in one go and then I'm left with nothing for a year. And when I was younger and watching things on TV with my family there were so many shows I loved which got cancelled on a cliff hanger so this way I know the shows which got to end properly and the shows which didn't. I do the same with books.

For movies, I think part of it is just my natural instinct to not do things people are telling me to do lol. I have this innate resistance to anything that feels remotely like a demand. So if someone says "watch this show, you'll love it", even if I probably will love it and they've recommended good stuff in the past, my brain goes "don't you tell me what I'll love, you don't know me" hahaha. I think the noise thing is part of that. I don't like feeling pressured to watch something just because everyone's talking about it. Basically I don't want it to feel like a chore or a task I have to complete. So for me it's not about completely shielding myself from any discussion, it's just about waiting until all the hot takes and the daily debates about the film have died down so I can go into it feeling like I have the chance to actually enjoy it on my own terms. You only get one chance to watch a film for the first time and so I want that to be when I'm ready and when I can take the time to think about the film without the online discourse changing every five minutes with a new opinion. I'm also just very lazy and prone to procrastinating so I rarely see things in the cinema anyway!

[daisyachain]

Convinced dad to accompany me to Orville Peck as a social experiment. Not an artist I’m that familiar with but hey I know a few songs and he’s a good enough performer on a technical level that it’s entertaining just to watch him and the supporting band do their thing. Kept half an ear on the lyrics out of curiosity as to how identifiably non-heterosexual they were, since it’s kind of part of the (cattle) brand and dad went in with no prior knowledge.

What was interesting is that many of them weren’t strictly clockable and many of those were intuitively clockable. Heterosexuality is so intensely mediated by gender roles that a song about a love interest who drives a rig isn’t as easy to (mis)read as m -> f as a song about a love interest who serves coffee. A song that positions the narrator as a hanger-on or a side piece reads as m -> f when the the narrator is angry or vengeful and less so when the narrator is quietly sarcastic. A love interest that provides comfort or security doesn’t read as female even when a male singer can’t possibly be referring to anything but.

Logically there would be about as many woman truck drivers as gay, but both of them are equally hard to fit into our schema of a truck driver. It’s difficult to imagine a model of heterosexuality not intensely mediated by misogyny; it’s hard to imagine a pop culture narrative or even my real life friends’ relationships position a woman as solid, smart, reliable, or protective. Like with the doctor-fishing accident puzzle, there is a push and pull between misogyny and homophobia in trying to interpret songs/stories that don’t match the societal mold.

Given the historical roots of homophobia in misogyny—homophobia as a violent reaction to relationships with no clear superior in the cases of Edward II(?) and James I, four-thousand-year-old European top/bottom discourse, the conflation of trans women, crossdressing men, drag artists, and gay men as well as the (euro/Anglo but also present elsewhere) societal fixation on that image—I love to wonder if heterosexuality exists.

One common thread through studies of specifically male gay history is that superior/inferior male relationships (distinctions of age, position, or class, cf badgays episode I thiiiiink Qutbuddin Mubarak Shah on slaves being considered boys no matter what age) exist on a different level of social acceptability compared to what we in the present day consider a gay relationship. Superior/inferior relationships aren’t enshrined as heterosexual marriage is and are marginalized as frivolity/peccadillo/improper behaviour, but these still generally have a level of acceptability or at least widespread acknowledgement. Romantic or sexual entanglement between two men of equal status, on the other hand, creates a formal uncertainty where neither is guaranteed to be the superior, where class or position is called into question, where the laws of a patriarchal society cannot apply because the prerequisite does not exist.

Following that thread, a ‘real’ gay relationship is between two men of equal standing. So it goes with the modern conception of lesbian relationships, which have not historically fallen under the same level of scrutiny wrt woman-woman power dynamics because that would require historical writers to consider women having thoughts, and the modern heterosexual relationships.

Except, historically the m/f relationship has been considered (by men) (in many but not all societies) to be a superior/inferior relationship. Many if not most men in the most gender-equal societies today consider it to be superior/inferior, a very real affection born from protectiveness/benevolence/patronage/cuteness aggression as a teacher might feel for a student or an aristocrat for a valet + that just also happens to have a sexual component for reasons of whatever biology. Again, looking at real life people who I know and their rancid dating histories, a lot of men approach dating as a Roman emperor might approach a handsome young house slave.

Following this train of logic: it’s commonly accepted today that the superior/inferior m/m model (often expressed as pederasty) is not strictly ‘gay’ in the modern sense. It’s its own form of relationship that doesn’t really exist in the current conception of love (For Good Reason) but does exist in the current conception of abuse (be it boss/employee sexual harassment or child abuse). Many m/f relationships are conceived of as superior/inferior by the participants. Many, not most, m/f relationships do exist as abusive structures and can only be conceived of as abusive.

Therefore, due to whatever misogyny, historical baggage, and social constraints, ‘real’ heterosexuality is a rare phenomenon, and we have only just recently witnessed its birth as a culturally understood idea. Only with the reform of divorce laws and property ownership in the mid-20th century in a very few countries did real heterosexuality become possible. Most men have not yet achieved it. Straight Men Are Our Smallest Minority Group.

[ostolero]

bad discourse doesn't exist to me because the lowest common denominator type of discussion is beneath me and you can find it by the barrel if you're looking for it

you should say something if your friends are saying some odd shit but I'm not wading into that stuff unprompted

what you should be on the lookout for is people busting down the doors to get their two cent comedy routine in, at the expense of anti racism and disability activism. like when it comes comes to these two things it's like a trivial joke to them.

then you get these hangers on who just want to make any kind of joke about the "current" thing. it's lowest common denominator behavior and I need to be surrounded with people who do a lot better than that

[desn512donnchahand]

Her Choice - Georgia Cantlon

Design Analysis #6 Georgia Cantlon - Her Choice

Who is the designer/studio?

Georgia Cantlon is the designer of this poster. The piece was created as part of the "Designers Speak Up" initiative in New Zealand, which appears to be a platform for female designers to address social and political issues through their work.

Who is the audience?

The audience for this piece is likely politically engaged viewers who are concerned with women's rights issues, particularly regarding abortion access. Given the poster's inclusion in the "Designers Speak Up" gallery, the primary audience would be those interested in design activism and politically-motivated visual communication. The secondary audience would be broader members of the public who might encounter this work in galleries or online spaces dedicated to political discourse.

What is the intent and/or message the design is communicating?

The poster serves as a powerful commentary on Georgia's anti-abortion bill, highlighting the dangerous consequences of restricting abortion access. The designer explicitly states that this legislation represents "a drastic step back for women's rights and gender equality." The core message communicates that banning legal abortion doesn't stop the practice but drives it underground where it becomes dangerous and potentially fatal. The poster aims to evoke emotional response and critical thought about the implications of such restrictive legislation.

The design cleverly subverts the nostalgic phrase "Sweet Home Alabama" by visually emphasizing "not home," suggesting that a state that restricts women's bodily autonomy cannot truly be considered a welcoming "home" for its female citizens.

What design elements are employed in the poster?

The poster employs several key design elements:

Shape: The most prominent shapes are the door and coat hanger silhouettes. The door represents the "behind closed doors" aspect of illegal abortions, creating a powerful metaphor for hidden suffering. The coat hanger shape serves as a stark, visceral symbol of dangerous self-induced abortion methods that women historically resorted to when safe options were unavailable due to anti-abortion laws.

Typography: The design utilizes varying typographic weights to create hierarchy and emphasis. Letter spacing (tracking) is manipulated to draw attention to specific words, particularly "home," which creates intentional tension with the word "not" that's positioned to catch the viewer's eye through its placement near negative space.

Negative Space: The strategic use of negative space breaks the expected grid system, particularly around the word "not," creating visual tension that draws the viewer's attention to this critical negation.

Line: The poster appears to use a generally structured grid system that is intentionally disrupted to create emphasis on key elements, reflecting how anti-abortion legislation disrupts women's lives and bodily autonomy.

What visual strategies can you see being used in this design?

The first visual strategy is symbolic representation through the coat hanger—an object that immediately evokes the horrific history of dangerous back-alley abortions. This symbol functions as both an attention-grabbing visual element and an emotional trigger that communicates the stakes of the issue without requiring explicit graphic imagery.

The second strategy is juxtaposition. By placing the culturally familiar reference to "Sweet Home Alabama" (which evokes warmth and nostalgia) against imagery and wording that suggests danger and desperation, the designer creates cognitive tension that strengthens the poster's message.

The third strategy is visual hierarchy through typographic contrast. By varying the weight, size, and spacing of type elements, Cantlon guides the viewer's eye to key words ("not" and "home") that transform the meaning of the familiar phrase.

How is type used in the design?

Typography serves as both a communicative and visual element in this poster. The varying weights of type create a clear hierarchy of information, directing the viewer through the intended reading sequence.

The increased letter spacing in "home" gives this word special emphasis, making it stand out visually while also perhaps suggesting a sense of emptiness or isolation—reinforcing the idea that restrictive legislation makes a place less hospitable, less of a "home."

Breaking the expected grid alignment around the word "not" creates visual tension that draws attention to this critical negation. This typographic disruption mirrors the poster's message about disruption of women's rights.

The overall typographic treatment likely balances between legibility (to ensure the message is clearly communicated) and expressive qualities (to evoke emotional response). The typography doesn't simply convey words but actively participates in the poster's meaning-making.

Why or why not is the design appropriate?

The design is highly appropriate for its purpose as a piece of design activism. By using symbolic imagery (door, coat hanger) rather than explicit imagery of abortion procedures, it maintains accessibility while still communicating the gravity of the issue. This approach allows the poster to be displayed in public spaces without risking censorship while still delivering its powerful message.

The connection to Alabama through the subverted slogan is particularly relevant given the state's controversial abortion legislation. By recontextualizing a familiar cultural reference, the design creates an entry point for viewers who might otherwise dismiss political content.

The combination of visual elements and typography works together to create multiple layers of meaning that reward closer examination, making the poster effective both as an immediate visual statement and as a piece that encourages deeper contemplation of the issue.

How does the design contribute to the communication of its content?

The design effectively communicates its message through several means:

The visual metaphor of the door and coat hanger immediately communicates the concept of dangerous, hidden activities without requiring explicit explanation. These symbols carry strong emotional associations that reinforce the poster's written statement about the dangers of making abortion illegal.

The typographic treatment, particularly the emphasis on "not home," creates a powerful subversion of a familiar cultural reference. This challenges viewers to reconsider what makes a place truly a "home" for all its citizens, particularly women.

The overall design balances emotional impact with intellectual engagement. It provokes an immediate emotional response through its stark symbols while also encouraging viewers to make connections between the visual elements, typography, and the broader socio-political context of the changing law in the USA.

By using design principles of contrast, emphasis, and symbolic representation, the poster distills a complex political issue into a visually compelling statement that both captures attention and stimulates thought about the freedom of women's bodily autonomy and the consequences of restrictive legislation.

[xsoldier]

So! A few things to mention on this front that might shape your perspective on this, but let's tackle the meta issue before getting to the fun in-universe specifics:

Initially, it's important to keep in mind that Star Wars' physics has always been pretty rooted in "Flash Gordon pulp era sci-fi meets WWII" since things like the artificial gravity to walk around on ANY ship is basically hand-waving. There are far more fundamental issues in The Empire Strikes Back with the Millennium Falcon landing inside an open cave on an asteroid with no atmosphere and leaving the hatch open to the vacuum of space while wandering around with only oxygen masks & no suits to clear Mynocks off of the hull or Attack of the Clones using seismic charges that send out shockwaves despite having literally nothing to travel through in a vacuum.

Those seem to get a free pass, so why dwell on this?

As such, I'd also be remiss not to mention that an utterly ABSURD amount of the perceived volume of negative discourse around The Last Jedi was directly connected to Russian bot farms on Twitter used for influencing political discourse in America. Which is to say that there was legitimate value in loudly being hyper critical about ANYTHING in the film to a nitpicking degree that nothing else in the series gets grilled for in the same way, despite having much bigger flaws.

The Empire Strikes Back introduced using TIE Bombers in space on asteroids without gravity, but The Last Jedi got constantly criticized for showing exactly the same type of space bombers in a place without gravity firing off of guided rails, where it was constantly lambasted over what was ultimately nothing. It still FELT like a problem because what seemed like a lot of voices yelled about it loudly enough with sufficient motivation to want to be mad about it and stir up an outrage mob.

Nevertheless, both in spite of & because of that — I will MORE THAN GLADLY still engage with the perceived problem of the Holdo maneuver on its own terms within the Star Wars canon on good faith, 'cause I think it's genuinely rad to actually talk about. I also genuinely enjoy The Last Jedi entirely on its own terms as a Star Wars film just as much as the other ones.

I was a kid back in the 90s when "The Essential Guide to <insert thing here>" were the peak of Legends canon, and implicitly know way more about this sort of stuff than is really useful most of the time, because we had these sorts of discussions playing Star Wars pen & paper roleplaying games to justify what sort of things out characters could or couldn't do. Back when Legends had things like the Sun Crusher that could obliterate entire stars out of existence, there were all sorts of bonkers things happening, but hyperspace weapons weren't one of them, and there are good reasons for it… which I think actually just make the Holdo maneuver even cooler.

So, that context out of the way — let's actually dive into the good stuff and pick this apart:

First is that after The Last Jedi came out, Star Wars Rebels Season 4 Episode 8 had Hera initiate a hyperspace jump through an unshielded hanger bay — which she survived. This is something that fans loved, and you didn't get this backlash around — which will tell you a lot about things just from that alone when it comes to what truly matters when it comes to Star Wars physics.

Hera Syndulla is generally regarded as the best pilot in Star Wars when it comes to non-Force sensitives, so her managing to pull this off and cause damage with the wake of her jump while ALSO not dying is monumentally more impressive than the Holdo maneuver all things considered. It gives some additionally interesting context to the effects around a vessel that's jumping by other static objects in real space that we don't normally get to see.

Second is the built-in safety protocols around jumping into & out of hyperspace is DANGEROUS. Carefully calculating the jump is something Han Solo explains very early on in A New Hope. Making sure you don't take damage and mess up your jump, or just ram yourself at high speed into an obstacle means that ships and navicomputers have a lot of things that will try to prevent you from obliterating yourself into particulate spacedust. Again, this is what makes Hera's jump exponentially more impressive, and is why you wouldn't do this otherwise as a miss is still a total loss regardless of whether it has any effect or not.

Third is the physics of gravity interdiction. Part of what makes hyperspace travel difficult is that a large enough gravity well will rip a vessel out of hyperspace and also prevent it from jumping at all. That's why you need hyperspace routes and all of those multitude of safety measures. The Empire uses this as a way to ensnare enemy vessels with the experimental Gravity Well Generators on its Imperial Interdictor in Star Wars Rebels Season 2 Episode 9 — which was both released before The Last Jedi AND was also based off of the Interdictor Star Destroyers from Legends introduced all the way back in 1996 sort of addressing these things when it came to how that all works.

This means that against a target that's big enough to have its own gravity well like a planet, or the Death Star, this kamikaze tactic just simply won't work — hence the type of space combat we see in Star Wars always resembling WWI/WWII era dogfighting and naval engagements (a rule The Last Jedi follows VERY closely). There's still danger in hyperspace jumps dropping out into scattered debris that deplete your deflector shields (like the Millennium Falcon dropping out into the shattered pieces of Alderaan), or the risk of getting yanked out of hyperspace within the gravity well of a star that your sub-light engines can't escape.

Fourth is that doing something like this in basically any other circumstances is a suicide mission — which in and of itself is generally not a worthwhile trade (the history of Japanese kamikaze missions in WWII make that very clear). Conventional weaponry is a much better exchange of cost to damage inflicted, even while deflector shields exist. Reminder that hyperdrives are expensive enough that the Empire doesn't even equip most TIE Fighters with them, and they're limited to being short range fighters.

It's not something anyone is arming onto Concussion Missiles or anything like that, and the ships equipped with them are already important resources to maintain whenever possible, because they're WAY more valuable as a ship than as ammunition. You want weapons to be cheap and/or reusable — using ships with equipped hyperdrives for kamikaze attacks is neither of those things.

That being said, when the Rebels get baited into the “It's a trap” of attacking the second Death Star, Green Leader in Return of the Jedi kamikazes into the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer Executor, causing it to careen into the Death Star, establishing that a suicide run IS a viable sacrifice under certain conditions, but even then Admiral Ackbar's reaction shows that even a sub-light version of that type of maneuver isn't taken lightly.

TIE Fighters & A-Wings have some of the fastest sub-light speeds of any of the Imperial & Rebel fighter ships in this era — and thus the non-Force sensitive pilots that can actually fly them at their full potential are an incredibly valuable resource on their own, meaning that these suicide runs are monumentally costly when you're hitting a ship with enough speed to really make a significant impact at sub-light speeds. So overall — the window where hyperspace jumping into an enemy vessel at ALL is a viable tactic is monumentally small.

So:

In The Last Jedi, the Raddus basically had zero options against the First Order's utterly immense Supremacy. They couldn't get into firing range and were outgunned even if they did. They couldn't outrun it in hyperspace or sub-light, and were running out of resources. Additionally, while the Supremacy IS a colossal vessel — it's also basically a giant wing, meaning that it doesn't have a natural gravity well the way that something like the Death Star would …so it doesn't have any inherent gravity Interdiction.

All combined, this basically sets up for making that last ditch effort one where the Raddus was doomed either way, no other options were viable, the Holdo maneuver was the only chance to disable the massive enemy vessel, the ship size made that sacrifice cost-effective in a way that would almost never happen otherwise, and it's SO completely dependent upon all of those factors being the perfect storm that they would never expect it until it was too late — but even THEN, it's still a huge risk.

The Supremacy is a flying wing design, and so it's an absurdly small profile for hitting straight on, which is what makes it so dangerous. The shot misses its aim or jumps too early to connect — the Raddus is STILL permanently lost in hyperspace or winds up dead for any of the other reasons you don't make blind jumps into hyperspace, and literally nothing is accomplished. They make the jump too late, and the Raddus crumples into the front of the Supremacy at sub-light speeds, which given their deflector shields, and the hit not being aimed at a bridge like Green Leader was for the Executor, means that it's damage a behemoth vessel like the Supremacy could still just shrug off.

But it is timed FLAWLESSLY… and thus—

The perfect distance, and you're taking a vessel that's not just a fighter, it's a goddamn capital ship hurling into a flagship that's at the maximum size of what you could probably EVER hit without gravity well interdiction halting it dead in its tracks. This impact is dead on at maximum possible velocity JUST before it reaches hyperspace — and it plows full force into the most ridiculously large behemoth of an oversized target, splintering shrapnel big enough to slice chunks through Star Destroyers trailing behind it. It's the one-in-a-billion perfect opportunity for this.

That shit is utterly INCREDIBLE.

Hopefully that helps to highlight that the Holdo maneuver doesn't even remotely break any part of Star Wars' long-standing "WWII in space" internal logic in any way whatsoever, is FAR from the most absurd thing that the series has ever done, and is just another bit of Star Wars to unabashedly embrace for being an absolute spectacle of badassery and cinematic peak.

So I do understand why people get mad about Holdo's hyperspace suicide bombing run. It was undeniably very cool, but it's also the kind of trick that's so blindingly obvious that if nobody in a previous movie has done it, there must be a good reason it isn't done. And if there isn't a good reason it isn't done, and you come up with the idea for this in the writer's room, it's arguably gauche to call attention to that storytelling shortcoming by doing it. It can be read as a flex on the storytelling of the rest of the canon, and lets not kid ourselves, this was a movie that was at least somewhat trying to flex on the rest of the canon, with mixed success and mixed support. I don't think it's nuts to read this beat as part of that. So I do get why people got annoyed by this.

That said. Did they ever advance a halfway-convincing explanation for why this is the only time we see hyperdrives weaponized in this manner? Operative word here being "halfway-convincing."

[rnayparker-blog]

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