#no this is so true actually & an excellent point

[tweedfrog]

Thinking abt human sacrifice in westeros in ASOIAF I rlly rlly do love the idea that it was practiced openly in the north but died out (except on skagos allegedly) when the Andals came and now people view it as barbaric but it just happens en masse but they call it something else....Northerners tithing men before the beginning of winter and giving them to the Nights Watch based on luck of the draw....Southerners setting up whole tourney circuits and melee battles where men die brutally for entertainment. It's all still there you just call it a different thing!!!!

[keclan]

tabletops are fun :)

[waywardsalt]

tag rant but man i fuckin hate the new direction for loz

[not-terezi-pyrope]

"Should trans women be allowed to compete in women's sports" I don't think there should be women's sports. I think it's a silly artificial construction that only upholds the gender binary while it's benefits are incidental and would be better addressed directly.

Care about giving people with different body types and muscle mass a shot? Split your league by weight categories like boxing, or some other direct physical measurement. Gender is at best a poor proxy for these and we only do it because we still treat women are a different species. "But that still wouldn't be fully fair to everyone?" Sport isn't fully fair, it's about rewarding people with the most biological advantage. That's the whole point of it.

You want to give more sporting opportunity to women and minorities specifically? Okay then do that. Create your own opportunities league, but if we're giving up the pretense that it's about essential biological advantage then you better let trans women in.

What's that, the extra league would be treated as a novelty afterthought and would lack the prestige of the real main event? You mean like how women's events were treated when they were introduced? True! In fact women's leagues are still largely treated as secondary now, and you know how we can fix it? Make the main leagues open to everyone with weight, height or muscle mass categories so that people with different body types can excel. Like I suggested before. Problem solved.

Women's sport is bad actually.

[saphronethaleph]

Soresu Negotiations

“Get help,” Palpatine said. “You’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at the Chancellor. “...yes?” he said. “But he’s also something else – something I’m surprised you’ve forgotten.”

“What?” Palpatine asked.

“A politician,” Obi-Wan replied, turning back to Dooku.

Anakin groaned, then sat down.

“Here we go,” he said.

Palpatine blinked, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan.

“...what do you mean, Anakin?” he asked.

“This happens sometimes,” Anakin replied. “How do you think he got his nickname?”

“Count,” Obi-Wan said, at about the same time. “It’s occurred to me that I never actually found out what the Confederacy wants.”

“Isn’t it a little late for this?” Dooku asked. “We have been at war for several years.”

“True,” Obi-Wan conceded, readily. “The war having started on Geonosis, because of tracing back your clone army which we… appear to have appropriated, mostly because you did it in our name. But that’s how the war started – not your objectives.”

Dooku was silent for a moment.

“I assume some semblance of a point will be emerging,” he said, eventually. “If you could be so kind as to provide it?”

“Wars begin for all sorts of reasons,” Obi-Wan replied. “But how they end… they end because a mutual settlement has been reached. And it’s occurred to me that I don’t know what you’d want out of a victory.”

He spread his hand, the one not holding the – unlit – saber. “It’s not the conquest of the Republic, I can tell that much. If the CIS annexed the Republic, what you’d have would still be the Republic, just under a different name… it’s not the Republic without the corruption that’s been causing it problems, because most of the corruption in the Republic was – was – the big industrial concerns like the Techno Union, Commerce Guild, Trade Federation. But you seem to have taken all of those off our hands, and they provide essentially your entire military so I don’t think anyone else could honestly believe that either.”

“I wouldn’t expect a Jedi to understand,” Dooku replied. “The Confederacy’s member systems have concerns relating to over-centralization.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment.

“...no they don’t,” he said.

“I hardly think you can have earned your reputation as a negotiator, Kenobi, if you are so willing to be insulting,” Dooku said, archly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan replied. “I mean… yes, now the Republic has an army, though really it’s actually the Jedi’s army and we’re simply letting them borrow it, but four years ago the Galactic Republic was proverbially incapable of doing anything. It took emergency powers for the Chancellor to get the Republic to authorize having any kind of military whatsoever – and the only one available was the one you ordered. That’s not over-centralization.”

He drummed his fingers on his ‘saber. “And I note that I overheard Nute Gunray insisting on the head of Senator Amidala – literally, in those words – as his price for signing a treaty. But I still haven’t heard an actual answer. What does the Galaxy look like if the Confederacy wins?”

Dooku frowned, and after about three seconds Obi-Wan glanced at the Chancellor.

“Didn’t you discuss this at any point, your excellency?” he asked. “Count Dooku doesn’t seem to have thought about this.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t you be fighting him?”

“It’s called diplomacy, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan replied, before returning his attention to Dooku. “Grandmaster, are you seriously telling me that you never thought about what you would do if you won?”

Anakin checked his comlink, for the time, then the ship trembled slightly.

“Artoo?” he asked. “Can you tell those ships outside to stop shooting at us and give us a wide berth? This could take hours and I don’t want to find out if my name’s literal.”

“Hours?” Palpatine repeated.

“He’s rolling,” Anakin replied, rolling his eyes. “Like I say, I’m used to this.”

He rummaged in a pocket of his robes, taking out a miniature toolkit, and began disassembling his lightsaber. “I’m pretty sure I can retune these crystals to give two stable configurations which it’ll snap between, that should give me a length toggle instead of a single adjustable length…”

“Are you taking your lightsaber apart?” Palpatine hissed. “What if you need to fight?”

“It’s okay, Chancellor, I’ll get about five minutes’ warning if the negotiations are going downhill,” Anakin replied. “That should be time to put it back together again…”

Palpatine looked up to Obi-Wan, who – sure enough – was still going.

“...of course, a separate but related issue is what it’s going to be like afterwards,” Obi-Wan said. “In principle the Republic and the Jedi Order could probably accept the existence of Sith so long as we actually knew who they were and they weren’t trying to destroy us. It’s the fact that the first Sith we met in a thousand years tried to run Anakin over and cut Qui-Gon’s head off as an opening move that’s soured us towards them a bit… but are you really going to be content as someone whose whole job is to die for Sidious?”

Dooku stared at Obi-Wan, baffled, then glanced at Palpatine and Anakin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to Obi-Wan.

“Sidious is your Master, we know that much,” Obi-Wan replied. “Partly because you told me yourself. But has he ever put himself in danger? Or has it all been you dealing with Jedi like myself and my apprentice? Putting yourself out there, in danger, while you do exactly what he says?”

He smiled slightly. “A Jedi would accept that, but you’re a Sith – you’ve said so yourself. Sith are self-interested. What do you think your new master is getting out of the situation? Because if you don’t know, it’s got to be something and it’s probably something he doesn’t want to tell you.”

“My master is quite willing to put himself in danger,” Dooku said, then clamped his lips shut at a frantic mouthed shut up from Palpatine.

“Real or feigned?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you think he wouldn’t manipulate you? He’s been doing it to everyone else – you’ve said it.”

Dooku’s brow furrowed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” Obi-Wan said, turning to look at Palpatine. “Chancellor, what about this as a starting point? Your emergency powers were granted to resolve the crisis, and I’m sure you want to abandon them as soon as possible… so why not take away the whole reason why the individual systems in the Confederacy had problems with the Republic to begin with? Freely allow the departure of any system which wishes to do so, under the emergency powers legislation; enact a progressive tax, one which hits the Core worlds harder owing to their greater ability to pay, to sustain a carrier based navy able to hunt pirates more effectively than conduct occupations or orbital bombardment, and have the navy established on a sector-federal two-level model?”

Palpatine stared at Obi-Wan for at least ten seconds.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he said, yet again.

“Oh, shut up,” Dooku replied. “You’re a Sith Lord and I don’t see you doing anything constructive.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Palpatine.

“...you know,” he began. “I’m quite sure you’d need to note that on your financial disclosure forms, your Excellency.”

He turned sideways, so he could see both Dooku and Palpatine at the same time. “What was the point of this whole abduction, anyway?”

“As it happens, I was supposed to kill you,” Dooku said. “It’s the only way to turn Anakin to the Dark Side, if you’re out of the way.”

“Huh?” Anakin asked. “Is something up? I’ve almost got the crystals realigned.”

“This plan looked a lot better this morning,” Palpatine muttered.

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[lilacstro]

Astro observations part 14

Well, the result of my poll clearly said for this and waiting for it to end would make no difference I know haha, so here we go with part 14 :)

people with planets in subconscious houses(4/8/12) in water signs or even having planets in all of them or at least 2 could be really emotionally receptive, and may feel overwhelming emotions, sometimes being unable to manage this tsunami and moodiness that can manifest can even cause mental troubles

Girls having an afflicted moon/mars placement, or moon or mars in harsh aspects can experience hormonal/menstrual problems some point in life

One of the best friendships happen when your moon sign matches someone's sun sign and vice versa

women with 5th house Leo/Aries/Sun/Mars could be really protective around their children

For girls who say "I always cry on my birthday" or "my birthday month is my worst" could actually have sun transition into their 8th/12th house at the time of their birthday month. I can make a post on how your birthday month could be for you, let me know if you guys want to read.

I often tell my clients and I have seen it myself, people with strong Jupiter in their chart are the ones that go through a lot of hard times, the lesson here is to maintain that unwavering faith and optimistic mindset and move forward, it is not until then that you have learnt, Jupiter starts to bless you :)

people with ruler of 4th in 10th could actually struggle with having their secrets be their secrets in life, it would just somehow come out to people, not exactly fully exposed but people would know something is up.

planets in your 4th house can in fact tell you what you may like to keep hidden, for example having NN in 4th may not really like sharing my goals or plans with people.

ok so I recently saw some celebrity's newborn's natal chart, and I saw Mars conjunct Uranus in the second, and it just speaks to me that somewhere in this life, this baby gonna want to spend money like crazily-excessively and he would rebel otherwise, this sure can turn into many more mature things with time, but that impulsivity with money seems something that he needs to look after

Mercury in Leo people are actually so unafraid lmao, they can deliver the most obviously wrong facts with full confidence and when you confront them, well you cannot actually. But they can make excellent journalists, debaters, politicians etc.

People with 6th/8th/12th house placements or any of these houses in Virgo/Libra risings should be very aware of who they are entertaining. These kinds of people are actually really giving by nature but they need to be sure that people are not blantly "expecting" them/ latching onto them just for getting what they want.

6th house- literal service, cooking, cleaning, looking after them in tough times

8th house- to change them for their good at the cost of draining yourself

12th house- to mentally elevate or spiritually enlighten someone on the right path

I think it is not very talked about and a very underrated thing but Neptune in 2nd house people can be really intuitive, things they say may come true but they would not have enough confidence to speak it out or believe it themselves is one thing. Can make really good psychic/tarot readers and even astrologers.

Venus in 12th house people may attract situations where they can unknowingly want to keep their relationship/friendships private BUT please for god's sake, talk about it to other people, since to me this translates as an isolated Venus and the chances of being manipulated run high and you probably would not even know.

People who can have their comments get a lot of likes or want to comment out of desire can have Mercury in 11th, but please note Mercury and the 11th should most likely be in fire or air signs, water and earth can rather keep their opinions to themselves.

Speaking of which if you have Mercury-Mars placement in 11th, you are very likely to be someone who fights for what they like, be unafraid of arguing or putting out your comment on internet, for example: fighting that your fav artist is right or this song is being hated on for no reason etc.

You may often find yourself contradicting between the life choices of your North Node and South Node house/Signs. For example, someone with NN in 4th and SN in 10th would want to think "ok I wanna marry young, have kids and look after my kids", OR sometimes think "no not at all I will be an unmarried childless girlboss living her life in 30s", it is likely that it is not in between OR it can be, "well how will I manage this desire to have a successful career and be a mother at the same time idk"

People with Sun/Saturn and Neptune in harsh aspects could have father struggling with substances, or maybe dogmatism or have some kind of un real ideals, may feel very hard to impress, yet you would probably still in some want to get his validation which rather seems impossible because of how out of the world and unrealistic it could be.

Wherever Juno sits in your chart can show what can change in your life most when you meet your spouse or most significant other, for example people with Juno in 11th, would change what they usually prayed or wished for, their friends and social life. Juno in 9th may become more philosophical or open to higher education. Can make another post on this one

Speaking of which, Juno can also give clues on how your future spouse could be, it is like a tarot kind of description, not everything would be accurate but some of it sure would be. For example, Juno in 11th could have spouse who works on Internet or through Internet, could have Aquarian traits of having strong, different opinions, BIG hopes and dreams, etc. Can make a post on this one again lmao

paid readings open

support me on ko-fi :)

well that is it for today, send your post suggestions from above or anything else you wanna see:)

i love you all <3

[sebscore]

EXCUSE ME

pairings: lewis hamilton x driver!reader

warnings: LEWIS GOING TO FERRARI !!!!!! also there is swearing in this.

author's note: i have finally risen from the death. gzd is back, baby!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

The knocking on his apartment door confused Lewis, not expecting anyone that day. He walked over to the front, and looked through the peephole, frowning at the sight of his younger colleague.

He opened the door. ''Y/N? Hey, how are yo-''

The young woman didn't spare him a glance, walking right past him. ''You are going to fucking Ferrari?!'' She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Lewis stood there, momentarily stunned, as Y/N breezed past him into his home. He quickly closed the door, while shushing her. ''How do you know about that? How did you even get into the building? I didn't buzz you in.''

''Nico's daughter did, but that's not the point.'' She brushed his latter question off.

''Y/N, she's six.'' He stated, hoping his fellow driver was joking.

''Don't switch topics! You're going to Ferrari, it's actually true?'' She continued probing, absolutely in disbelief about the news she had received.

The man sighed, glancing around as if someone else was there that would be able to hear them. ''Yeah, in 2025.'' Lewis confirmed.

''Oh my fucking God…'' Y/N slowly sank down on his couch, in shock at the news of him leaving Mercedes the following season. ''Lewis, this is huge.''

He carefully nodded. ''How do you know this? I've barely told anyone, not even Toto knows.'' There had been a permanent frown on his face the moment she knocked on his door.

She smirked. ''Sorry, my sources stay with me.''

Lewis narrowed his eyes at her. ''I won't tell anyone. I'm excellent at keeping secrets.'' The Brit grinned.

''Yeah, clearly.'' Y/N teasingly scoffed, receiving a light push from the World Champion. ''But, dude, this is massive!''

The World Champion simply chuckled at her response, loving the dramatics.

''Lewis, this is like Zayn leaving One Direction! Like when this news drops, everyone will remember where they were on the day that Lewis 'The Great' Hamilton joined Ferrari!'' Lewis just watched on as he let the woman deliver her monologue, enjoying himself.

''Does Nico know?'' She asked him, the face of the German suddenly popping into her mind.

He shook his head, laughing in confusion. ''No, why would he?''

She shrugged her shoulders. ''To rub it in his face, I don't know.''

Lewis chuckled, feeling a tension that always resurfaced whenever his former best friend's name was brought up. ''You're a funny girl.''

She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms, still wearing that playful smirk. "Oh, come on! Picture this: you strolling into the Ferrari hospitality, shades on, and casually waving at Nico like, 'Hey mate, look where I landed.' That would be fucking epic.''

The Brit arched an eyebrow. ''I doubt he cares that much.''

Y/N's jaw dropped, exaggerating her response. ''Lewis, it's Britney we're talking about. The biggest yapper of all time. Of course he cares.''

Lewis burst into laughter at the ''yapping'' comment, unable to resist her infectious enthusiasm. ''Does Nico know you talk about him like this?''

She shot him a sly look. ''Maybe, maybe not. But I can just imagine all the articles already. Oh! Imagine he takes your Merc seat! Anything is possible at this point!''

He shook his head, but was still smiling. ''You're on the internet too much.''

''Okay, boomer, and you aren't on the internet enough.'' Y/N retorted.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. "Boomer? Seriously? I'm not that old.'' He gasped.

"Well, you're old in internet years, Lewis.'' She smiled, innocently.

''You're one insult away from being thrown out of my house.''

''Hey, Lewis.'' 

''Hey, Pierre. How are you doing?'' He greeted the younger man on the phone. 

Lewis could hear him scratch his voice. ''So, Ferrari, huh?'' Pierre smirked. 

''Not you too!'' The Brit exclaimed, sighing loudly, much to the Frenchman's amusement. ''Where did you get this from?'' He asked. 

Pierre snickered. ''I can't tell you that.'' 

''It was Y/N, wasn't it?'' 

''Yeah…'' 

[murdrdocs]

SAW YOUR END. void stiles

description. it's hard not to give into the Nogitsune. he does have the face of your favorite person, after all

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+, SMUT 18+, SLIGHT DUBCON (r wants it but for safe measures), fem! reader, impact play, choking, degradation, stiles is possessed, forced impregnation, baby trapping (kinda), snowballing, reader is secretly in luv with stiles, implied that stiles is present, some angst, title from 'cherry waves' by deftones

wc: 4.5k+

→ kinktober masterlist

He’s more intimidating up close than you would’ve thought. 

You’ve been telling yourself that if faced with the shell of your best friend, you could handle yourself. The Nogitsune doesn’t fight. He plots, plans, weakens you with words alone. And you thought this was something you could control. No amount of taunts or insults or manipulation could catch you off guard. 

But you somehow forgot that while he would slowly weaken your resolve, he would be wearing the face and body and voice of your best friend. You hadn’t considered that this would make you weak in and of itself, heart already thudding loudly behind your chest when you saw those amber eyes, mouth dry when he spoke your name, hands shaking with the desire to meet him in the middle when he reached out for you. 

You find yourself to be more fragile than you thought, lip quivering and eyes welling up when his gaze hardens instead of softens. Your entire body trembling when he starts his slow torture, words perfectly chosen to hit the spots of you that will be most affected. 

He’s unpredictable, possibly completely predictable if you’d been thinking with the parts of you that excelled in reason instead of the parts that excelled in emotion. 

But his unpredictable nature leaks into his actions, his desires, as his taunts turn from ones to break you down to ones that are designed to have you as putty in his hands. Promises to give you your deepest desires, ones you were previously sure that no one other than yourself and your diary knew. Claims that he could fulfill your wishes if you would just give in. 

It all sounds too good to be true, too simple and sweet and perfect. But again, rationale isn’t your strong suit at this point, so you’re standing before him, chest pressed to his, sooner than you realize it. 

Heads tilted, lips closing in on the others, tips of noses brushing until they poke at the others cheek as lips finally press together. 

Chapped pillows against moisturized, teeth clacking and spit swapping. It’s easy for you to forget that this is a trick, that this is all an elaborate scheme, while he kisses you like he wants it. 

The Nogitsune kisses you as if he’s trying to actually devour you. He sucks your saliva up as it pools between your mouths, he licks around your mouth and tongues at your bones, his hands claw at your body to pull you tighter and closer to him until you can feel the muscle tone of Stiles’ body. 

The grip he has on your waist –– slightly conservative as he almost refuses to venture down to your lower back –– has you stumbling, leaving your hands with nowhere else to go other than Stiles’ shirt. 

Stiles has worn this shirt many times before, the cotton relaxed around his muscles. But in the short time that the Nogitsune has been present in it, it’s become distressed, tiny tears in both of the shoulders, the color a little dull from what you can tell. 

The tears in the fabric have your hands pressing against Stiles’ bare skin while they fumble along the material. You flinch at the first press, surprised at just how chilled his skin is. 

In comparison, you feel like you’re on fire. 

Your body burns where he touches you, yet the parts his form doesn’t reach is unbearably cold, similar to his own body. You need him everywhere and nowhere all at once. You want what he can give you and resent the idea simultaneously. 

Two wars raging in your mind, knocking around your head until you have a pressure and a fog that demands your attention. 

Instead, you focus on reality. 

You focus on the bulge that presses against denim to reach you. You focus on the thigh coming between yours. You focus on the damp feeling in your shorts, pressed warmly against your cunt. 

Stiles’ thigh presses against your center and you sigh contentedly, eyebrows relaxing from their cinched position as you subtly start to submit in the Nogitsune’s hold. He breathes in when you breathe out, taking in every breath that you let out like you’re feeding them to him. He groans when you groan, echoing you. 

You’re lost in his movements, trying to decipher why he does what he does while also trying to enjoy the feeling, creating too much for your head to handle, and suddenly –– without realizing it –– you’re walking backwards, legs bumping into your bed, knees bending and body falling back to thud against the mattress. 

The Nogitsune doesn’t follow you. Instead, he stands at the edge, looking down at you. His eyes are dark and empty as they stare at your body from head to toe. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about his opinion, your tiny brain convincing you that the opinion of the Nogitsune correlates to that of Stiles. You shrink in on yourself, legs glued together at the knee, drawing up to your chest as you attempt to hide. 

The Nogitsune isn’t having it. 

He tuts, the bed dipping at the end under his weight as he kneels. Two rough and large hands find your bare knees and you shiver, both thankful and regretful that you’d decided on your smallest pair of shorts for the night as you’d previously been completely unaware and unable to guess that your night would take a turn like this. 

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s an order, one you wouldn’t dream of disobeying, fear of what would happen if you did preventing you from doing so. Either way, he’s spreading your legs open himself as he says it until they’re wide enough to welcome him in. 

He takes your forced spread as an invitation from you, shuffling forward until he’s completely situated between your legs. The Nogitsune’s hands press into the pillow beneath you, strong forearms belonging to Stiles caging you in. He stares down at you, analyzing your reaction as he slots one thigh between both of yours, the other resting on the outside of your left leg. 

“Pretty little thing like you,” he says, head tilting as his analyzing gaze shifts to one that resembles amazement. Wonder, even. 

“Innocent. An angel. Would never hurt a fly.” He’s spitting the words out now as if he doesn’t believe them. 

His eyes narrow, glazing over as if he’s not paying attention to you anymore, and then he blinks and you’re the main focus once more. “That’s what he’s telling me. He’s trying to get out, you know. Trying to convince me to stop. He’s begging.” He takes a second, eyes calculating as he watches you for a reaction. 

You think you don’t give him one, but there’s one hidden in the minute shifts of your features. 

“But you don’t want that, do you?” He comes to a conclusion. “You don’t want me to stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be humping my leg like a bitch in heat.” And you are, your hips having a mind of their own as they push and pull against the material on his legs.

You hadn’t even noticed it was happening, too busy taking in his words as if they’re a form of hypnosis. Maybe they were, because it’s not until he points out your mindless hip movements that you’re fully aware of them, hands clutching at the Nogitsune’s sides as you start to pleasure yourself. 

”Want me to please you?” His voice is sickly sweet, a teasing pout on his lips, his eyes faux soft and his thick eyebrows lifted. You know he’s mocking you, it’s evident in his voice and face. But you’re already submitting, wanting just that, and telling him with a sincere nod. “Yeah?” He shouldn’t sound as hot as he does, and you shouldn’t be as horny as you are. But at this point, you’re pushing aside nearly all of your morals, deciding instead to completely give in. 

“Yes. Please, Void.” 

His face twists into one of surprise at the nickname. “Is that what you all call me? ‘Void’.” You stop, fearing you’d angered the usually cool headed Nogitsune. Until he smiles, slight but enough to be seen, and his hands slide down to your cunt.

“Is that what you’ll call me when I bring you to completion?” 

Another nod from you, your hips starting to squirm with impatience. You’re not above begging, as you’ve proven time and time again tonight, but there’s no need. 

Void slides his hand down to the waistband of your shorts, separating the elastic from your skin enough to slide his hand beneath the thin layer. 

You’re not wearing any panties, something about minimal layers being good for vaginal health. In reality, few layers is best for easy access, proven with the way Void easily slides two fingers through your slit, pushing your lips apart to let you feel the cool air against your center. 

Goosebumps raise along your skin, your bedroom suddenly colder than it was before. 

“So fucking wet.” His words are nothing but an observation, he’s quite frankly pointing out the obvious. There’s no hidden meanings or underlying intentions woven between the syllables. It’s straightforward. 

And that’s probably why you’re so embarrassed about it. 

You try to close your legs, shy away from Void, but of course he doesn’t let you. 

He uses his free hand to push your knees apart, holding one of them down while his occupied hand flexes as he slides his two fingers down to tease your entrance. 

“You can’t hide from me, sweet thing. You know that, don’t you?” This is full of a double meaning. You feel the weight of the words as you start to surrender even more, body weighted into the mattress while Void slides Stiles’ middle finger into your fluttering walls. 

There’s barely any reaction, not much of a stretch nor enough stimulation to give you much. So Void adds a second, pushing your walls apart while he inserts. 

You hiss, hands instinctively going down to wrap around Void’s wrist. He doesn’t swat your hands away. He lets you wrap your fingers around his wrist, and his eyebrows raise as he waits for you to make a move. 

You don’t. 

Your hand limply sits curled around a slender wrist, not tight enough to really do anything at all. 

Void continues his slow torture, setting a pace for his fingers that leaves so much to the imagination. 

What would it be like faster? Could you hear the squelch that way? Do you want it faster? Since that would inevitably bring you to the end at a speed that would easily have you unfulfilled and desiring more. 

There’s not much room to think more, however, when Void starts lowering himself, eyes trained on yours while his head steadily moves down. 

When he’s above your navel, he presses a kiss right below it, and then his other hand digs into the elastic of your shorts to pull them down. You’re left bare, open, save for Void’s fingers momentarily filling you up. 

“Do you taste as good as you look? Hm?” he asks you, voice low and teasing. Completely unaware of the answer, you choose to not answer at all. But Void is determined, pulling his fingers out of you and floating them over to your mouth. 

Your lips part easily, without any verbal prompting from him. He slips the digits in, and lets you suck, dark eyes trained on your mouth while you clean the pale skin. 

His eyebrows raise to prompt you to answer his question. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” It’s snarky, but spoken like you’ve said the sweetest, most innocent thing in the world, words almost dainty as they saunter out in a single file line from your lips. 

He hums, eyes squinting as his lips raise in something that looks like admiration. “Got a mouth on you.” 

And then his hands are holding your thighs open as he slots his face between your legs. 

The first lick is slow, his tongue flat as he confidently traces it from just above your asshole to just above your clit. 

You gasp, not expecting that wide of a trail, and then you melt. 

Void’s fingers presses into your thighs as he situates them over his shoulders, giving him the perfect position to devour. 

Which, he does. 

You don’t know how you expected a dark spirit with thousands of years of age over you to give head, but any expectation you would have had wouldn’t have been nearly as good as it is. 

None of the previous ‘best head you’ve ever had’ exists in this room. In this space. In this moment. No conscious thoughts about the possible repercussions you’ll face from finally having Stiles’ head between your thighs, but in the most unconventional way. Nothing exists outside of Stiles’ mouth on your cunt, Void driving his actions as pleasure that knocks the breath out of you is introduced to your system. 

Your eyes stick to the ceiling, or they close, fear that if you look down you’ll either cum too fast and cease the best moment of your life, or you’ll be wracked with guilt when poised with Stiles’ eyes peering up at you. 

But of course, Void won’t let you off that easily. 

His command to look at him is so strong that you don’t even consider disobeying it. Instead, you stare down at him, eyes finding his like opposite ends of a magnet. You prepare for that guilt to make you physically sick. You prepare to get uncomfortably turned off and recoil in on yourself instead of spreading your legs wider for Void. 

It doesn’t come. 

Instead, you feel weirdly comforted, back arching further and your hand confidently coming down to thread through Stiles’ waves, the dark hair beginning to stick to his forehead with the physical exertion. 

Void pulls Stiles’ lips from your center, rosy-pink glistening before he licks them clean. You notice Stiles’ cheeks are turning a similar color and it’s then that something switches in your head. 

Suddenly, you see Stiles instead of the Nogitsune. It doesn’t help when you’re sent a smile that feels soft and familiar. 

You’re pushed out of your daze by the grate of his voice. 

“I bet you’re pretending I’m him, aren’t you?” 

He licks up your cunt once more, another long stripe that collects your pooled arousal just before he sucks at your clit. 

“Wanna scream his name while I make you cum? Hm?” It’s wrong, but you do. 

You nod, the movement small and shy as you wiggle your hips to demand attention. He gives in, pressing his lips back to your sensitive nerve endings. You start to chase your orgasm, grinding your hips against Void’s face as you begin to imagine it’s Stiles between your legs instead. It’s easy to do, especially when his face is shoved in your pussy. 

Stiles’ name falls from your lips with a stutter at first, unsure from your tongue as you test it. Void shakes his head. “Say it like you mean it,” he tells you before diving back in. 

He bares his teeth and nips on the bud, giving way for the name of the face he wears to push from your chest with more assurance this time. 

It’s the same name you moan when Void pushes you over the edge with his mouth alone.

With the post orgasm haze over your mind, bleeding into your body, it’s easier for you to see Stiles more than the Nogitsune. 

His face relaxed, the light in your room brightening his dark eyes. His lips pink and swollen and glistening, spreading into a satisfied smile as your breathing starts to level out.

Logic attempts to remind you that no matter how similar they look, this isn’t Stiles. But when Void softens his eyes, his hands shake a little at your side, and his smile lacks cockiness, it’s easier than it should be for you to forget. It’s easy for you to look past the pale skin and purple under eyes and messier-than-it-should-be hair and instead see your best friend. The guy you’ve been pining after since middle school.

“You’re prettier than you know.” Void presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, close to the junction of your pelvis and limb. The action shoves you back to reality, putting you in that post-orgasmic euphoric haze.  

“Too pretty for him.” Another kiss. “Should keep you close to me, shouldn’t I?” 

Maybe there’s something else affecting you other than your post-orgasm haze, because the thought starts to sound not so bad. You try to nod, but your body is heavy. You’re tired, but your body wants more. 

Shamelessly, you start to grind, a pathetic attempt of receiving friction from perhaps the air, since that’s the only thing you’re getting. You feel drunk, confused, and incredibly horny.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, Void replying in a chuckle. 

“What? You want more?” 

You muster your strength to nod, and you can’t see it, but you look like the prettiest fucked out thing. 

Hair messy atop your head, lips swollen and slick and pouty, eyes glazed over and it looks like you’ll cry if Void turns down your advances. He briefly considers doing so, just to fuck with you, see what you’re like at your weakest, but he figures there’s another way to get you to that point. 

Void’s hand slides up your torso, palm wide and calluses rough against your soft body. He rises as he does so, hand cupping your jaw, face hovering over yours as he brings your attention solely to him. You blink dumbly, waiting for his next move. 

“You know I’m gonna need something from you, too, baby, right? And not just those pretty sounds you make when you cum.” You stare at him, feeling like it’s all you've been doing this entire encounter. But there are no words, nothing for you to say to him. 

You lick your lips and it takes longer than it should for a response to form in your head, each word appearing one at a time. “What … do you need?” 

He kisses the side of your neck and then his hand slides down to rest over the area. You stay still, breath sitting in your chest, unmoving. 

He sucks in a breath himself, as if he’s taunting you with how relaxed and unphased he is. Suddenly, you begin to feel like trapped prey. 

“I need to hurt you, honey.” He tilts his head, eyes scanning over your body, calculating. “Not a lot, just enough to feed myself.” His grip on your throat seems to get tighter, more secure. “That’s okay, right?” 

You’re dumb. So fucking dumb and clueless and desperate. 

Because you’re nodding, hand pathetically circling Stiles’ wrist when pressure is applied to the sides of your throat. 

“That’s a good girl.” He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek is struck. 

You gasp, the sound is an instinct from your body. It forces you to breathe, and the airflow combined with the sting from your cheek feels good. You wonder if they’ll be a mark tomorrow, and the thought excites you instead of worries you. 

You don’t consider the lie you’ll have to tell Scott or Lydia. You don’t think about how you’ll potentially feel looking in the mirror in the morning. All you think about is how you want Void to do it again. 

Especially when he looks like this while he does it: Veins along his arms and neck turning black as he seemingly takes the pain, not away like Scott can, but as Void takes your pain he adds to it. Multiplies it, even. 

It’s not filled with gloom, nor despair, but there’s something heavy that feels vaguely uncomfortable from the lack of attention, like an itch that needs to be scratched. 

You need more. 

Void seems to sense this. 

“On all fours,” he instructs you, hand leaving your neck to allow you to do as told. 

There’s the sound of shuffling, not just from you. Metal against metal, fabric against fabric. More shuffling, the added weight against the bed is gone, and then hands are pulling you back towards the edge. 

There’s barely any wait, any anticipation, before your walls are forcibly stretched. 

You wish you could see it, maybe if you were doing it in missionary, but beggars truly can’t be choosers and you’re perfectly fine with taking what you can get. 

Void is at least a few inches deep before you consider the option of protection. You bring it up to him, glancing over your shoulder and your voice wobbling as you say it. 

Void tuts as if he’s disappointed, shaking his head. 

“You don’t want his babies?” He speaks through a pout, the epitome of condescending. “Don’t want to be the whore with her crush’s seed festering in her womb? ‘Cause I think you do.” 

His hand presses flat against the middle of your back, pressing you down into the mattress, leaving you with your ass up. 

Void bottoms out completely, a hiss sounding through your teeth as you try to adjust as quickly as you can. 

He doesn’t give you much grace, instantly setting a pace that has you gasping, pornographic sounds slipping from between your lips. It’s nearly exactly as you’d imagined it, loud with the squelches of you and Void combining in the purest way possible. But it’s dirty, fast and lacking any neatness or grace. 

He fucks you just as you expected from him: Mercilessly, with little to no concern for how you feel. 

As if to emphasize this, he spanks you, the clap loud to the point where it seems fake. But the sting left behind on your left ass cheek begs to differ. 

It’s not long before his thrusts become erratic, most likely from the build up of the entire ordeal. A lack of rhythm becomes present as he fucks you harder, with more intention behind each aggressive snap of his hips into yours. You’re sent further and further into the mattress as he does so, your lips pressing against your definitely sodden sheets. You attempt to maneuver your head to where he can hear you, a plea for him to cum anywhere but inside of you desperately climbing up your throat. 

But it gets stuck behind your mouth. Void’s hand presses into the back of your head, forcing your face into the sheets, and just when you feel as if you can’t breathe, his hand wraps around your throat and he pulls you up, your back against his chest. 

His chin sits on your shoulder, his lips brush your earlobe as he speaks. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Fill you with little Nogitsune babies. Be a lot better than the little weaklings he would give you. Bet you would look so pretty carrying my kids. Tits all swollen,” his free hand circles around your waist at this point, climbing up to pinch an already sensitive nipple between his pointer and thumb. 

You hiss, attempting to recoil away from the clamp. There’s nowhere for you to go, completely closed in by Void in all places. He’s still in you, rock hard and hot and fucking up into your walls with a depth that stings, his tip not too far from your cervix. His body is around you, arms circled around you, hands at your neck and stomach, pressing you back against him. 

You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And with another orgasm brewing low in your belly, you want the opposite. It’s hard to admit, and it’s not like you will ever admit it, but you have the sudden craving for Void to fill you up. 

You whine, pretending to be disinterested by the thought he puts in your head. But Void continues speaking, voice heavy and a little slurred as he continues to take the pain he’s inducing. 

“Feel so good around me. It’s like this is how it was supposed to be. You and him. Maybe you two were made for each other.” He chuckles cruelly, almost taunting you with the idea. You have to bite back a sob because that sounds so nice, but it seems impossible after this. 

You can’t imagine Stiles ever wanting to be with you after this. 

“He wants that, too, you know. But ‘s not gonna happen when I’m here.” He kisses your cheek, and it would be romantic in any other situation. 

You can’t even consider the idea of romance when Void’s hand squeezes at your throat and his voice drops a few octaves as he tells you: “You’re mine.” 

His hand slides from your tit to between your thighs, two fingers circling your clit rapidly, meant to send you over the edge. You do so a few moments later, satisfied that he hadn't made you beg while your body completely relaxes until you let out a sound that is practically inhuman. 

It’s a mix between a growl and a moan and a sob. You sound like a wounded animal. And while Void cums in you, you feel like one too. 

He lets you go, allowing you to collapse face first into your bed. 

Both of you are still for a moment, Void's heavy body atop of yours as you both lay limply on your mattress. Of course, he moves first, separating from you and letting you lay there in silence.

There’s no tranquility, no comfort, just thick silence. 

You’re spent, fucked out as you attempt to catch your breath. 

It’s almost impossible to do so when Void lifts your hips a little and then presses his tongue flat against your entrance. You gasp, experiencing too much too soon, and again attempt to thrash away. He holds you still, strong hands holding you up as his lips pucker around your hole. He sucks, and it becomes clear to you that he’s retrieving his own cum from inside of you. 

When he’s finished, he flips you over and goes to your mouth, and it’s shameful that you still don’t have to be asked to open. You do it automatically, lips parting as Void presses his to yours. The swap is disgusting, both in taste and texture, but you lose yourself in the messiness of the kiss. 

By the time Void pulls away, there’s drool and cum from both of you sliding down your chin. He smiles at the sight, gently tapping your cheek before doing the same with a much harder slap on your abused cunt. 

This time, you don’t recoil, or writhe away, or even make a sound. You’re completely submissive, the only indicator of the pain being the way your stomach flexes.

Void grins, satisfied with how he’s made you. You expect more from him. You’re expecting him to tug his dick back up, so you’re sat watching him dumbly as he mechanically redresses.

You don’t move, too tired to do so, just blinking languidly while pale skin is recovered.

Just before Void leaves, he tells you: “I’m not done with you.”

And it’s both a threat and a promise. One you hope he keeps.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Pizzaburger Presidency

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

The corporate wing of the Democrats has objectively terrible political instincts, because the corporate wing of the Dems wants things that are very unpopular with the electorate (this is a trait they share with the Republican establishment).

Remember Hillary Clinton's unimaginably terrible campaign slogan, "America is already great?" In other words, "Vote for me if you believe that nothing needs to change":

https://twitter.com/HillaryClinton/status/758501814945869824

Biden picked up the "This is fine" messaging where Clinton left off, promising that "nothing would fundamentally change" if he became president:

https://www.salon.com/2019/06/19/joe-biden-to-rich-donors-nothing-would-fundamentally-change-if-hes-elected/

Biden didn't so much win that election as Trump lost it, by doing extremely unpopular things, including badly bungling the American covid response and killing about a million people.

Biden's 2020 election victory was a squeaker, and it was absolutely dependent on compromising with the party's left wing, embodied by the Warren and Sanders campaigns. The Unity Task Force promised – and delivered – key appointments and policies that represented serious and powerful change for the better:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/10/thanks-obama/#triangulation

Despite these excellent appointments and policies, the Biden administration has remained unpopular and is heading into the 2024 election with worryingly poor numbers. There is a lot of debate about why this might be. It's undeniable that every leader who has presided over a period of inflation, irrespective of political tendency, is facing extreme defenstration, from Rishi Sunak, the far-right prime minister of the UK, to the relentlessly centrist Justin Trudeau in Canada:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-29-three-barriers-biden-reelection/

It's also true that Biden has presided over a genocide, which he has been proudly and significantly complicit in. That Trump would have done the same or worse is beside the point. A political leader who does things that the voters deplore can't expect to become more popular, though perhaps they can pull off less unpopular:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-left-is-not-joe-bidens-problem

Biden may be attracting unfair blame for inflation, and totally fair blame for genocide, but in addition to those problems, there's this: Biden hasn't gotten credit for the actual good things he's done:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoflHnGrCpM

Writing in his newsletter, Matt Stoller offers an explanation for this lack of credit: the Biden White House almost never talks about any of these triumphs, even the bold, generational ones that will significantly alter the political landscape no matter who wins the next election:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-does-the-biden-white-house-hate

Biden's antitrust enforcers have gone after price-fixing in oil, food and rent – the three largest sources of voter cost-of-living concern. They've done more on these three kinds of crime than all of their predecessors over the past forty years, combined. And yet, Stoller finds example after example of White House press secretaries being lobbed softballs by the press and refusing to even try to swing at them. When asked about any of this stuff, the White House demurs, refusing to comment.

The reasons they give for this is that they don't want to mess up an active case while it's before the courts. But that's not how this works. Yes, misstatements about active cases can do serious damage, but not talking about cases extinguishes the political will needed to carry them out. That's why a competent press secretary excellent briefings and training, because they must talk about these cases.

Think for a moment about the fact that the US government is – at this very moment – trying to break up Google, the largest tech company in the history of the world, and there has been virtually no press about it. This is a gigantic story. It's literally the biggest business story ever. It's practically a secret.

Why doesn't the Biden admin want to talk about this very small number of very good things it's doing? To understand that, you have to understand the hollowness of "centrist" politics as practiced in the Democratic Party.

The Democrats, like all political parties, are a coalition. Now, there are lots of ways to keep a coalition together. Parties who detest one another can stay in coalition provided that each partner is getting something they want out of it – even if one partner is bitterly unhappy about everything else happening in the coalition. That's the present-day Democratic approach: arrest students, bomb Gaza, but promise to do something about abortion and a few other issues while gesturing with real and justified alarm at Trump's open fascism, and hope that the party's left turns out at the polls this fall.

Leaders who play this game can't announce that they are deliberately making a vital coalition partner miserable and furious. Instead, they insist that they are "compromising" and point to the fact that "everyone is equally unhappy" with the way things are going.

This school of politics – "Everyone is angry at me, therefore I am doing something right" – has a name, courtesy of Anat Shenker-Osorio: "Pizzaburger politics." Say half your family wants burgers for dinner and the other half wants pizza: make a pizzaburger and disappoint all of them, and declare yourself to be a politics genius:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/17/pizzaburgers/

But Biden's Pizzaburger Presidency doesn't disappoint everyone equally. Sure, Biden appointed some brilliant antitrust enforcers to begin the long project of smashing the corporate juggernauts built through forty years of Reaganomics (including the Reganomics of Bill Clinton and Obama). But his lifetime federal judicial appointments are drawn heavily from the corporate wing of the party's darlings, and those judges will spend the rest of their lives ruling against the kinds of enforcers Biden put in charge of the FTC and DoJ antitrust division:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

So that's one reason that Biden's comms team won't talk about his most successful and popular policies. But there's another reason: schismogenesis.

"Schismogenesis" is a anthropological concept describing how groups define themselves in opposition to their opponents (if they're for it, we're against it). Think of the liberals who became cheerleaders for the "intelligence community" (you know the CIA spies who organized murderous coups against a dozen Latin American democracies, and the FBI agents who tried to get MLK to kill himself) as soon as Trump and his allies began to rail against them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

Part of Trump's takeover of conservativism is a revival of "the paranoid style" of the American right – the conspiratorial, unhinged apocalyptic rhetoric that the movement's leaders are no longer capable of keeping a lid on:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos

This stuff – the lizard-people/Bilderberg/blood libel/antisemitic/Great Replacement/race realist/gender critical whackadoodlery – was always in conservative rhetoric, but it was reserved for internal communications, a way to talk to low-information voters in private forums. It wasn't supposed to make it into your campaign ads:

https://www.statesman.com/story/news/politics/elections/2024/05/27/texas-republicans-adopts-conservative-wish-list-for-the-2024-platform/73858798007/

Today's conservative vibe is all about saying the quiet part aloud. Historian Rick Perlstein calls this the "authoritarian ratchet": conservativism promises a return to a "prelapsarian" state, before the country lost its way:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-29-my-political-depression-problem/

This is presented as imperative: unless we restore that mythical order, the country is doomed. We might just be the last generation of free Americans!

But that state never existed, and can never be recovered, but it doesn't matter. When conservatives lose a fight they declare to be existential (say, trans bathroom bans), they just pretend they never cared about it and move on to the next panic.

It's actually worse for them when they win. When the GOP repeals Roe, or takes the Presidency, the Senate and Congress, and still fails to restore that lost glory, then they have to find someone or something to blame. They turn on themselves, purging their ranks, promise ever-more-unhinged policies that will finally restore the state that never existed.

This is where schismogenesis comes in. If the GOP is making big, bold promises, then a shismogenesis-poisoned liberal will insist that the Dems must be "the party of normal." If the GOP's radical wing is taking the upper hand, then the Dems must be the party whose radical wing is marginalized (see also: UK Labour).

This is the trap of schismogenesis. It's possible for the things your opponents do to be wrong, but tactically sound (like promising the big changes that voters want). The difference you should seek to establish between yourself and your enemies isn't in promising to maintaining the status quo – it's in promising to make better, big muscular changes, and keeping those promises.

It's possible to acknowledge that an odious institution to do something good – like the CIA and FBI trying to wrongfoot Trump's most unhinged policies – without becoming a stan for that institution, and without abandoning your stance that the institution should either be root-and-branch reformed or abolished altogether.

The mere fact that your enemy uses a sound tactic to do something bad doesn't make that tactic invalid. As Naomi Klein writes in her magnificent Doppelganger, the right's genius is in co-opting progressive rhetoric and making it mean the opposite: think of their ownership of "fake news" or the equivalence of transphobia with feminism, of opposition to genocide with antisemitism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Promising bold policies and then talking about them in plain language at every opportunity is something demagogues do, but having bold policies and talking about them doesn't make you a demagogue.

The reason demagogues talk that way is that it works. It captures the interest of potential followers, and keeps existing followers excited about the project.

Choosing not to do these things is political suicide. Good politics aren't boring. They're exciting. The fact that Republicans use eschatological rhetoric to motivate crazed insurrectionists who think they're the last hope for a good future doesn't change the fact that we are at a critical juncture for a survivable future.

If the GOP wins this coming election – or when Pierre Poilievre's petro-tories win the next Canadian election – they will do everything they can to set the planet on fire and render it permanently uninhabitable by humans and other animals. We are running out of time.

We can't afford to cede this ground to the right. Remember the clickbait wars? Low-quality websites and Facebook accounts got really good at ginning up misleading, compelling headlines that attracted a lot of monetizable clicks.

For a certain kind of online scolding centrist, the lesson from this era was that headlines should a) be boring and b) not leave out any salient fact. This is very bad headline-writing advice. While it claims to be in service to thoughtfulness and nuance, it misses out on the most important nuance of all: there's a difference between a misleading headline and a headline that calls out the most salient element of the story and then fleshes that out with more detail in the body of the article. If a headline completely summarizes the article, it's not a headline, it's an abstract.

Biden's comms team isn't bragging about the administration's accomplishments, because the senior partners in this coalition oppose those accomplishments. They don't want to win an election based on the promise to prosecute and anti-corporate revolution, because they are counter-revolutionaries.

The Democratic coalition has some irredeemably terrible elements. It also has elements that I would march into the sun for. The party itself is a very weak institution that's bad at resolving the tension between both groups:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Pizzaburgers don't make anyone happy and they're not supposed to. They're a convenient cover for the winners of intraparty struggles to keep the losers from staying home on election day. I don't know how Biden can win this coming election, but I know how he can lose it: keep on reminding us that all the good things about his administration were undertaken reluctantly and could be jettisoned in a second Biden administration.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/29/sub-bushel-comms-strategy/#nothing-would-fundamentally-change

[cal-1maf]

Before we get into black holes, there are a few myths about them that deserve to be addressed.

First off, they don’t “suck stuff in.” They exert gravity on objects the same as anything else with mass. In fact, if our sun were to be magically replaced, instantly, with a black hole of equal mass, our orbit around it wouldn’t change at all! 

Second, that they’re black because their gravitational pull is so large that not even light can escape. This one’s more complicated. Around the singularity, there is a region of space where an observer cannot see “in”, which is called the event horizon. If you’re curious, this region’s size is defined by the black hole’s “Schwarzchild Radius” (Rs), which is defined by the equation Rs = 2GM / (c^2) where G is the gravitational constant, M is the mass of the black hole, and c is the speed of light.

In simple terms, let’s say we send an astronaut into the black hole. As they approach the event horizon, they experience time passing normally. From their perspective, they fall toward the black hole, through the event horizon, and observe whatever is happening beyond it. But from our perspective as an observer, the astronaut appears to slow down. Gravity affects spacetime, and the farther down a gravity well one goes, the slower time moves. This is actually something that GPS satellites need to account for, because this difference is observably present even for Earth’s gravity!

So as observers, the astronaut’s progress continues to slow as they approach the event horizon, to the point that their progress appears to just stop when they arrive at the edge of it. This is where the astronaut will appear to be, forever…if we could still see them. Light is also affected: it appears to slow down too and its frequency decreases. This decrease of its frequency is called redshift, and as the light approaches the event horizon it redshifts out of observable frequencies. So the astronaut, and the light with which we’d observe them, disappear without ever passing the event horizon from our perspective as observers. Remember, from the astronaut’s perspective they’re moving as normal and they pass through the event horizon just fine. So while, yes light can’t escape the event horizon, we’d never see it pass into it in the first place, and that’s why black holes appear black.

The last misconception, which I’m guilty of spreading in my last post, is that all black holes are infinitely dense. This is true in some cases, but supermassive black holes can actually have very low density! When I can find a satisfying answer as to why, I will be sure to share it lol.

This has become another one of my Very Long Posts, so if you would rather absorb this information in video or audio format, PBS Space Time has an excellent video here which I found very helpful in my understanding. All the material I’ve covered in this post is in this video, actually.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

It became known that MC was a force to be reconned with, when the prince of the Devildom sought out and valued their input. Diavolo doesn't bat an eye at pausing a meeting to call on MC, over the phone or in person, and he will take their words into careful consideration when making any sort of decision.

"MC, what do you think of this painting?"

"It's very bright. Might suit the conservatory hall."

It's Lucifer who arches a brow at it at first, in the early days. Prince of the Devildom, taking advice from a lowly human? That would certainly put the house of lords on edge.

Diavolo didn't stop though, and the things he asked MC's opinion on grew less and less minial.

"This is a complex matter...Lucifer, would you have Mammon bring MC here after class? I would love to hear their take on this."

"Young Master, this is a rather more serious matter than where to hang a new painting." Barbatos remarked. True, it's not the biggest issue sitting on Diavolo's desk right now, but it's no small thing either. Deciding where to invest RAD's extra funding isn't something one would think to involve the new exchange student in.

"Precisely why I would like their opinion, Barbatos!" Diavolo beamed adamantly, he would not think on it again and Mammon brought MC over, their pact still fresh.

Diavolo did not comment on that fresh mark, merely slid the necessary information across his desk, inviting MC to read it as he explained the finer points.

Lucifer and Barbatos watched on sceptically. What could this magic-less human possibly contribute to the conversation other than what they already know?

The eldest brother is rather surprised that MC takes it so seriously, granting Diavolo their undivided attention and asking follow up questions to make sure they fully understand what he's asking.

"Maybe send out a poll to the different clubs, see if they have any common needs? If I had to guess I'd suggest the common areas regularly used for club events, someone hosted a party in the cafeteria last week, can't be ideal."

Lucifer shared a look with Barbatos as the human spoke. How was that actually a good idea?

"And if they don't have any common issues?" Barbatos prompted.

MC shrugged. "Transport lines in and out of the Academy? One of my professors was complaining about it this morning."

Diavolo's face lit up. "Both excellent suggestions, MC! Thank you for your input, you're as observant as always."

The first demon not to underestimate them, wasn't actually Mammon, or any of his brothers, but the demon prince.

The Prince, who saw how observant, how kind they could be and invited them to be in the Devildom and see it not just as a temporary Passover, but as a home.

[indecisive-capricorn]

Headcanons to Dating Yandere Tom Riddle:

WARNINGS: MDNI! Yandere, stalking, implied dubcon, mentions of sex, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of breeding, mentions of wife, mentions of marriage, etc.

SUMMARY: A chance to experience what dating Tom Riddle is like, even when it's against your will to do just that.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, this headcanons leans more into dating Yandere Tom Riddle but technically, even without the yandere and dark part, he will do questionably dark things for his partner. I'm planning to make other headcanons that goes into details about that specific situation. For example, a "Headcanons to Dark Tom Riddle x Pregnant Wife Reader"

MASTERLIST: Feel free to check out my other works! :)

It doesn't matter where you come from, alright? Although it's important for Tom to have an excellent muggle free reputation, Tom has his ways to make sure any history you have with muggles are erased. No one knows your precise history because of it either, but according to their Dark Lord, you were a witch from a fine family in France. While that might have been true, what they didn't know was how you were actually a rebel and fought against him for a time until he kidnapped you.

You left him with no choice! He was infatuated with you due to your strength and infamous beauty. Tom kept on sending you gifts, invitations to balls even and attempted to bait you to become Dumbledore's spy in order to get closer to you. However, you rejected all his gifts and invitations, burning them into the fireplace as soon as they arrived.

You were intelligent enough to know about his plan, but as evil and cruel as Tom was, he was also a genius.

When Tom kidnapped you, you had screamed all the curses in the world at him, refusing for him to even touch you. However, it silenced down when you saw several death eaters pointing their wands to the necks of your little sister and other family members.

You were a rebel and if Tom tried to take you with the threat of hurting your family, he knew you would continue to reject him. After all, actions speak louder than words, and as the death eaters began to torture your family, you finally got on your knees and pleaded for him to stop. Tom was more than pleased with your actions, but to ensure that you will stay true to your promise, he demanded a kiss from you, which you reluctantly gave in the form of a peck on the lips.

Though Tom had spared your family, he will make sure you never see them again. One way or another, no matter how many times you plead and beg to see them, he will rip you away from your family for the sole reason so that your focus would not waver from him. Yeah, he's that possessive of you.

Speaking of being possessive, Tom from the beginning of the relationship will always make sure you are covered in the finest silk and most rarest yet stunning jewellery. You might try to refuse them at first, but you don't quite get it. All of the fine dresses, luxurious clothes and expensive jewellery that he had picked out for you was also his way to tell others that you're his, that you're his possession. Try to refuse it and he will punish you.

There are various of punishments Tom can give you. It depends on what you have done that made him measure how severe the punishment should go, but it also depended on his mood. If Tom was only lightly jealous, he'll most likely just leave marks on you like hickeys and bruises. However, if Tom was severely jealous.. then prepare yourself. Tom had once fucked you in front of two of your old friends whom he had taken as prisoner as a way to humiliate you after you had tried to communicate with them in their cells. Just don't defy him, okay? It won't end up good for you.

Other than that though, Tom will take care of you. He feeds you well, pampers you and even shower you with affection from time to time, which you always try to refuse. Tom tries to spend some time with you whenever he has the time, even with the ongoing war. Tom doesn't usually allow you to be out of the manor, but with his company, he allows you to wander around the garden and as much as you hate his company, a bit of fresh air will certainly do you good after being stuck inside for a long time.

However, with all that, he expects you to do your duties as well. You both might not be married yet, but Tom already views you as his wife, the only thing lacking is a wedding ring between your fingers and a ceremony. It will happen sooner than later. But due to it, you became the lady of the manor is your job to make sure that everything was going well in your 'home', telling the servants on what they must do to keep the cleanliness of the house.

And oh, on that note, you're not able to ask for them to help you escape. You learnt that the hard way because the day after you had tried to ask them, all of their tongues had disappeared, unable to speak properly anymore.

Tom desires to flaunt you to the public after making your relationship with him 'official'. However, he will only start bringing you to balls after he was sure that you will behave and Tom might just make a potion to help with that. He considers it as one of the duties you have to perform as his partner. But oh my, you do look ravishing in that tight dress he picked out for you.

At times during the night, you found Tom rubbing your stomach, eyes full of desire, as he thought fondly of children. He had been unsure of starting a family before. Of course Tom needed an heir, but he didn't think he would ever find himself wanting more children until he met you. It didn't matter if you didn't want children. Sooner or later, before or after marriage, you will be swollen with his child. And what better way to ensure an heir than start now?

[gibbearish]

so this post has been made unrebloggable now (shocker) but ive been feeling the need to address it since i saw it on my dash multiple times, so let's explore how lying on the internet works. more specifically, how blending truth, lies, and omissions to whip uninvolved people into anger works, because i think this is an excellent example and that pointing out the misinformation and the tactics used to spread it here is important, both in correcting the specific falsities but also in helping recognize similar tactics in the future.

so here we have several things that are technically true: staff has been very openly shitty to trans women for a long time and them banning predstrogen is clearly part of that, there is currently a movement regarding discussing transmisandry/transandrophobia, transmisogyny and transphobes sending transphobic asks is by far nothing new, and baeddel is/was a slur. however, among all of this are half-truths, unprovable speculation, or outright lies made to make you believe these events are originating specifically from transmascs.

firstly, the transandrophobia movement has been drastically misrepresented here in the same way it has been for the whole argument, "they're just trans MRAs" has been repeated so many times now that i'm gonna be hearing it in my dreams when i'm 80. i can understand not being willing to address the nuance of that whole discourse in one post that isn't directly focused on that, i'm certainly not, but in this example it's not unwillingness to address a complicated topic, it's a deliberate misrepresentation to frame one side of the discussion as The Evil Bad Ones That Can't Be Trusted. additionally, this post IS about that discourse and is just pretending it isn't to mislead a wider audience, so refusing to address it at all beyond this brief mention is deliberately misleading people about the goals of the group because They're The Other Side Of The Discourse. "transmisogynists" is used as a buzzword here, it doesn't actually refer to Anyone Who Hates Transfemmes, it refers to Transmascs Who Discuss Transmasc-Specific Oppression Using A Word They Coined To Point Out That Queer Spaces Have A Big Problem With Masculinity and just. doesn't tell you that's what it means, relying on the structure and framing of the post to create the Transmisogynist = Transmasc association in the audience's head so op doesn't have to say it outright (and of course the implied Transmasc = Transmisogynist association that follows because creating THAT association is the Actual Point of this post). the mentions of transmascs in this post are designed to look like afterthoughts, op says "typically those who espouse transandrophobia" to make it look like they're saying there's other people they're referring to here too, but almost everything in this post draws from the transandrophobia discourse. some random cis transphobe in texas has never heard the term baeddel in their entire life much less used it in a debate about transphobia, this is an intercommunity argument through and through, but op is trying to mask the fact that they're just referring to "transmascs who disagree with me specifically" and make it look like it's part of a wider trend. and again, i'm not going to go into the nuances of transandrophobia here, but i highly recommend reading some of the theory on it by @nothorses (x) and @genderkoolaid (x) because the "theyre just trans MRAs" argument kinda just collapses under its own weight as soon as you look into it even a smidgen. i've linked a couple broad overviews there but they both discuss it frequently and in-depth, specifically nothorses has a pinned post linking to many different discussion threads that i would recommend checking out if you do want to learn more about what the actual conversation surrounding these words is.

so, after framing the movement this way, they go on to say that the reason predstrogen was banned wasn't /just/ because staff has a long and established hate boner for trans women, but because the transandrophobia movement was teaming up with TERFs to mass-report her and other transfemmes, and implies that this is part of a deliberate conspiracy between Transandrophobia Truthers™, TERFs, and staff. you'll notice that there are no, say, screenshots of transmascs saying theyre deliberately reporting her or of that they're working with TERFs, behind-the-scenes lists of people who reported a certain account, or any evidence for this beyond "she was a trans woman, they're trans men who hate trans women, she got banned, so these must be related". which i find especially funny now given that photomatt has continued melting down about this since it happened and made it pretty clear it yknow. was just part of staffs ongoing hate campaign against trans women that has been going on much longer than the transandrophobia debate? and that maybe the fact that The Literal CEO is having a personal meltdown about this might explain where that could be coming from or at least why it's been allowed to continue for so long, moreso than any individual users reporting someone could? but i digress.

who reported what account is completely unprovable as a casual user unless people directly admit they did it, so to bring it up like this begs the question of what actual reasoning they have for saying it beyond trying to tie a current display of bigotry into an unrelated discourse. that's not to say it's impossible people who discuss transandrophobia were wrongfully reporting her, because again, thats something we have no way of knowing, and the internet is a shit place so i wouldn't be surprised. but given the circumstances and the rest of the lies here, i have my doubts about this being an actual yknow. Thing That Happened rather than just another lie to make people mad at transmascs. now one could make the argument that op wasn't saying transmascs are /deliberately/ teaming up with TERFs/staff, that "teaming up" was just a poor choice of words to refer to multiple groups who happen to have the same goals in mind at the same time but aren't actually coordinating with one another, but given the deliberate misinformative slant of the rest of the post and the overall phrasing in this section, i have trouble extending that grace. regardless, however, that doesn't change that who is reporting who isn't something verifiable, so stating it here as a confirmed fact is disingenuous at the absolute best, and a lie chosen specifically because it's unprovable at worst. if op /does/ have proof that transmascs have been teaming up with TERFs to get trans women banned, not including that with this post is just uhhhhh dumb, and if op /doesn't/ have proof then Why Would You Go Around Telling People That's What Happened Unless You Were Lying To Them On Purpose With Ulterior Motives.

next, op goes on to discuss the rise of the term baeddel. now as i said before, the truth here is that it certainly was a slur and certainly can still be used as one, again the internet is a shit place so i would be a fool if i tried to say "no one is using this as a slur". however, this is once again a drastic misrepresentation of the situation. baeddel's rising use is due to certain trans women reclaiming it and aligning themselves with the original group's politics, namely that femininity is good and masculinity is bad (aka terfism 101), with the added caveat that by abandoning femininity for masculinity, transmascs are evil and betraying devine womanhood and their community by putting more Evil Manhood into the world. of course that in turn is a drastic oversimplification of their politics and i highly recommend checking out this post with an actual in-depth exploration of the history (and without my added flavor), but the important part to note here is that this is not a term transmascs just Started Using one day because they hate transfems so very much as is implied here, its use is directly tied to a group of people saying "hello, here is what i am, and here is what this word means about what i believe," so others went "ok, these specific beliefs are called this." bringing up the fact that it historically was a slur is misdirection here, when you look closer this is almost a 1 to 1 translation of TERFs crying that TERF and radfem are slurs because People Don't Like Their Politics And Therefore Them, so the name for their politics is used negatively, so therefore it's a slur. that argument just has a little more oomph behind it this time because It Was A Slur Originally. and again, that isnt to say no one is now using it as a slur, the rate of decay for online discourse is ridiculous so it being boiled down to and used as "evil transfemme" has certainly already happened, but to act like /every/ use of it is a slur is literally just a lie, when you self-identify with a term based on your shared politics with the original group then you do not get to claim everyone using that term to describe those politics is doing so exclusively to attack you. also this part is entirely speculation but given that op's url is basically just. baeddel switched around to dae bel, i would hazard a guess that they perhaps are indeed aware of the origins of its re-use? but again, that's entirely unprovable and based just on wordplay, but like. given the Everything here i wouldn't be surprised. now, there's definitely an argument to be made about calling users baeddels based just off of their politics when they don't personally self-identify with it, if that constitutes calling someone a slur and if TIRF should be used instead, but crucially, that is not the argument being made here. the argument being made is "ANY AND ALL use of this term is calling someone a slur," and that literally just Isn't The Case.

finally, to tie the whole post off, op reminds us 1) if you hear anything bad about any trans woman ever, it's probably a lie to make her look bad, and 2) if you hear anyone say anything about transandrophobia, disregard everything else they have to say because they hate trans women. not "be critical of the things you see or get sent" or "be on the lookout for things following a certain pattern," a unilateral "anything bad is probably fake and anyone who uses the bad words is probably evil." that is not something someone does if they are genuinely trying to raise awareness of an ongoing trend, that is what someone does when they want you to turn your brain off and be mad at a group no matter what they say.

so yeah, in summary, do be critical of the things you see and be on the lookout for certain patterns, because sometimes people will just Lie to you. or, sometimes people will tell you portions of the truth while leaving out crucial bits so that you'll come to the conclusion they want without anyone being able to say they lied to you without typing up a thirty paragraph long hell post. transmisogyny is absolutely a problem on this site and there are 100% valuable conversations to be had about it and its presence within the trans community, but this post is not that. this post uses real transmisogyny and the wrongful termination of a trans woman's account as set dressing to say that it was all because of evil transmascs who run the trans community behind the scenes conspiring to take out transfemmes, so you should ignore anything they have to say because All of it is secretly motivated by transmisogyny. they're never discussing transandrophobia because it's something that actually effects them, they're doing it to hurt trans women by saying they have it worse. they're never telling you about shitty things a trans woman did to spread awareness, they're lying to make her look bad, or even if it's true they're only talking about it as part of a hate campaign because she's trans, they wouldn't care otherwise. they're never using a specific term because People Use That Term For Themselves, they're calling someone a slur because they hate trans women. there's always an explanation you can think up that ties it back to transmisogyny, and op says that instead of assessing all of what someone says and the context behind it to determine if that's what's happening, you should assume transmisogyny is the answer and refuse to engage any further as soon as you see a word you've been told is bad.

this post is discourse recruitment masquerading as a public service announcement that doesn't offer you any routes to actually learn more about what's going on, it just tells you Here's What's Happening, Here's Who's Evil And Should Be Ignored, And If You Disagree You're Also Evil And Should Be Ignored. content of the actual post aside, i think anything framed that way should be taken with a MASSIVE grain of salt and this would have raised my alarm bells even if i wasn't already pretty familiar with the arguments, people who genuinely want you to know something just because it's good to know will give you options to learn more or encourage you to actually use your critical thinking to assess things, not tell you to sit down and shut up and ignore anyone who disagrees with them.

anyways i guess tldr

[torpedopickle]

I want to talk about how Dungeons and Dragons Honor Among Thieves is an excellent use of meta humor applied seamlessly to a story without ever breaking immersion.

Mild spoilers. I'll keep it vague so nothing will be spoiled if you choose to read on

This movie integrates many things that someone familiar with D&D would recognize from the narrative structure of a campaign.

There are some things in particular that demonstrate this particularly well

At one point, the party is joined temporarily by the character Xenk. But he really feels like he'd be an NPC party member controlled by the GM rather than a player. So when the other characters banter and quip, this character doesn't really join in or get their jokes cuz he simply wouldn't have the agency to. More examples of this would be how he's much more capable than the others, but he doesn't overshadow them. He provides aid if it's desperately needed, and will sometimes bail rhe party out of situations they can't manage on their own, just like how a GM should utilize an NPC companion. He even has a quote that perfectly reflects this. "I've given you the tools. Now you have to be the ones to use them". There's even a more direct joke about his NPC behavior. When he leaves the story, he walks off in a random direction, going straight forward, even stepping over obstacles and terrain unnecessarily. This all amounts to him feeling like a very clear GM controlled NPC, however he is presented in a way that still makes him feel entirely faithfull to his own world and does not break immersion

Other ways the movie plays around with the GM campaign structure would be the approach to backstory. The only time a character outright explains what their backstory is, in full, directly to us, is at the very start, to give context for the story going forward, as the character even puts it himself. Backstory later in the movie is told to us whenever it's relevant. Characters will toss in another fact or two about themselves in situations where mentioning a past experience would fit in. Much like how players usually prefer to build their characters.

And one of my favorite instances of being meta about D&D campaign structures comes in the second act.

the characters are faced with a complex and dangerous obstacle. The GM's stand in, xenk, explains the method of progressing through this obstacle correctly. But in true D&D fashion, the party immediately does it wrong and now the campaign has been derailed and the GM's setup squandered. So now they straight up don't have a way forward in the narrative. Logically, it should end there. But that'd be a shit campaign, so the GM would naturally bend the rules to get things back on track. So after the party fails the obstacle, one of them goes; "Hang on, that stick we've had with us the entire time isn't a stick after all! It's actually a magic staff that solves our EXACT predicament at this EXACT time". That is such a clear cut meta joke about GM's having to get things back on track cuz players are all chaotic evil. Is it a plot contrivance? Absolutely. One of the biggest ever. But it's what D&D is built on

[carriondell]

ratio excels in all that can be taught, and teaches all he excels at. while you certainly recognise his scientific talents (but then, what contrarian fool would deny them?), you hold no respect for what he dares call pedagogy.

he is rude, tactless, emotionally unaware to the point of outright cruelty towards the most unfortunate of his students. he expels few, as they tend to drop out before he loses hope for their improvement, though that is little comfort to crushed egos. the 0,01% who pass are rightfully lauded as geniuses on par with their stringent professor.

three auditoriums over, you teach engineering—nothing lifesaving the way ratio's innovations are. still, your name appears in the occasional publication, and your students are proud to learn from you. you did assist in designing and building many of the genius society's and intelligentsia guild's spacecrafts. you're proudest of your wards' achievements; each work, each project, each test, an occasion to climb to newer, brighter heights.

your colleagues decry your methods. coddling and pampering, shaping a generation of prissy engineers, ill-equipped for the universe. you've gotten into scuffles with jerks who claimed you were bloating your students' results and their doctorates ought all to be revoked.

"maybe my courses have a 99% passing rate because i'm an actually good professor." you've said that a solid dozen times, and gotten punched at least half of those times.

somehow, ratio has never been among your detractors. the reverse is true. you criticise the way he forgoes teaching for bashing students' merest mistakes, as if they would find illumination in insults, and though you have attempted to bring it up to him, his attitude has hardly improved, and his classroom retention even less so.

"knowledge shouldn't be bitter medicine," you rant, voice nasal from the nosebleed you're pinching away, as he inspects the nicks and bruises on your face. he nods absently, and you waggle a hand before his eyes. "you above all! listen! listen well and good, knowledge should be fun, an adventure, a reward—it should be sweet. why do you insist on making it such a miserable chore?"

"should you be antagonising the man currently tending to you?"

groaning, you whack his hands off. "forget it. i'm fine. and i'll just ring up a doctor if it gets worse."

"i'm a doctor."

"a different doctor, obviously."

you slip down to your feet and take a few steps, wading past him with some effort, as though trying to walk in a wild river, pushed about by currents rushing your way. he grips your arm when you stumble, but you shake him off.

"signs of a concussion," he says. "call the hospital."

you flip him the bird, but fetch your phone all the same.

ratio is left alone, fingers tinged with your blood, unused band-aids and disinfectant on the desk. for all his genius, he hasn't mastered the emotional and interpersonal skills you value so highly. he used to loathe niceness for niceness's sake—a sycophant's game. but you support your students so all may succeed and do not suffer one mean remark about them. he admires that: your kindness, your grit.