#propugnatori

[curiositasmundi]

Tira una brutta aria dalle Alpi al Canale di Sicilia. Si moltiplicano le aggressioni fasciste, alle tombe e ai monumenti commemorativi ma anche alle persone che riportano lesioni più o meno gravi, come nelle strade di Roma o, fatto gravissimo e inedito, perfino nelle sorde e grigie aule parlamentari. È evidente a mio avviso il legame tra queste intimidazioni e il fatto che i picchiatorelli in doppiopetto o in maglietta siano fortemente ringalluzziti dall’apparente successo di Giorgia & C. alle recenti elezioni europee Questa esibizione di fascismo muscolare e tendenzialmente terroristico non è tuttavia fine a se stessa. Essa infatti va inquadrata in un più ampio progetto politico ed istituzionale.

[...]

Fratelli d’Italia vuole il premeriato per rinverdire i tragici fasti dell’uomo (o donna) solo al comando, la Lega vuole la cosiddetta autonomia differenziata per sfasciare il principio della solidarietà nazionale e soddisfare le bramosie delle Regioni più ricche, Forza Italia vuole carriere separate per magistrati inquirenti e giudicanti, come primo passo per trasformare i giudici in scodinzolanti e obbedienti cagnolini del Potere, politico of economico. Il tutto nel contesto di un’ideologia di fondo favorevole a guerre e genocidi, in ossequio a sudditanze atlantiche e profitti militari-industriali, e contraria al ruolo dello Stato come regolatore dell’economia e garante del principio costituzionalmente garantito dell’ eguaglianza sostanziale, inseguendo la demenziale dottrina oggi esemplarmente applicata da Milei in Argentina.

La potenza e fattibilità di questo disegno non deve essere sottovalutata, ma purtroppo l’opposizione che dovrebbe dovrebbe batterlo appare del tutto fragile, improvvisata e impreparata. Non basta qualche richiamo emozionale all’antifascismo e alla Costituzione che fa fremere i sopravvissuti iscritti di questo o quel partito. È certamente positivo che si parli di unità, ma occorre anche puntualizzare i motivi per i quali lo schieramento avverso alle destre si presentò disunito alle scorse elezioni politiche e fu pertanto facilmente infilzato dalle destre. Dobbiamo quindi parlare della perniciosa fascinazione per l’agenda Draghi da cui furono colpiti all’epoca due “leader” diversamente intelligenti come Beppe Grillo ed Enrico Letta.

Dobbiamo parlare del fatto che l’autonomia differenziata ha avuto ed ha tuttora uno dei suoi massimi propugnatori nel numero due del Pd nonché presidente della Regione Emilia-Romagna Bonaccini. Dobbiamo parlare dell’esasperato atlantismo e del sionismo più o meno strisciante di buona parte dello stesso Pd, che continuano a tradursi nell’appoggio a guerre e genocidi. Dobbiamo parlare del razzismo istituzionale imperante che non è solo responsabilità della destra propriamente detta (Minniti docet) e che vede ogni giorno il compimento di nuovi crimini ai danni dei migranti, in mare o sul lavoro, nonostante sia su di essi che grava in misura crescente il peso della fatiscente economia italiana, più che mai basata sullo sfruttamento bestiale della forza-lavoro e l’appropriazione privata delle risorse e dei beni pubblici.Senza affrontare e risolvere questi nodi fondamentali non sarà possibile dare vita a un’alternativa strategica alle destre, destinate a prosperare come vermi o acari malefici nel disfacimento purulento della cosiddetta civiltà occidentale e di quella europea in particolare.

Non basta quindi sventolare il vessillo tricolore o quello dell’antifascismo se non si danno risposte precise e soddisfacenti ai concreti bisogni della cittadinanza su tutti i terreni concreti che la riguardano, dalla pace, all’ uguaglianza, al rispetto dei diritti fondamentali a partire da quelli del lavoro, su cui deve poggiare la Repubblica a norma dell’art. 1 della Costituzione. Quella materiale purtroppo vigente si basa invece sul profitto, la speculazione, il razzismo e la guerra e ciò costituisce al tempo stesso il fondamento del potere delle destre. È quindi necessario tornare alla Costituzione repubblicana per salvaguardarla e promuoverne l’attuazione richiamando a combattere nell’agone politico coloro che sempre più numerosi se ne allontanano scoraggiati per ingrossare le file dei depressi, degli alienati e degli astenuti.

[...]

[pettirosso1959]

Quando nevica, e nel nord Europa nevica sempre ogni inverno da secoli, pale eoliche e fotopannelli smettono di funzionare.

Indovinate quali sono i paesi dove i propugnatori di queste stronzate sono politicamente rilevanti ?

Dai che ce la fate.

-Ai norvegesi il petrolio gli esce dalle orecchie, ebbene, hanno il traffico elettrico bloccato dal gelo. Se questa non è una barzelletta... Allora cos'è?-

[libroazzurro]

È PIÙ SACRO VEDERE CHE CREDERE - LA VERITÀ È TERRORE

Ma la verità è terrore panico elevato e raffinato a temperature impossibili, meravigliose, ed è per questo che dalla distruttiva anarchia della verità nasce il bisogno di coesione e il maggiore e più bello degli ordini, come, con voce rauca ed esasperata, mostra Salomone nel “Qoelet”: vuote sono le promesse chiuse nei libri sacri, vuoti sono i rassicuranti dogmi dei sacerdoti e degli psichiatri, degli ingegneri sociali, dei propugnatori di opinioni; vuoto è l’essere che spacciano per assoluto: dal suo dogma nasce per suppurazione ogni disordine, ogni illuministico nichilismo. Fumo, dice Salomone: la verità è che tutto è fumo di fumo, sette volte fumo: tutto è fumo che esala dal sangue che attornia il miocardio: tutto è spasimo, è pensiero che spasima, immaginazione, anima: tutto è anima. 

 L’immagine è una delle litografie realizzate da Odilon Redon nel 1885 per la stampa di “Le Juré", monodramma lirico parlato in cinque atti di Edmond Picard, musicato da Henri Ferdinand Thiébaut. Il volume è conservato presso la Bibliothèque de l'Institut National d'Histoire de l'Art, collections Jacques Doucet. (L'immagine originale, concessa con Licenza Aperta Etalab (Licence Ouverte/Open Licence), proviene dalla Bibliothèque numérique de l’INHA).

 Testo di Pier Paolo Di Mino.

Ricerca iconografica a cura di Veronica Leffe.

https://www.libroazzurro.it/index.php/note/e-piu-sacro-vedere-che-credere/323

[darsispazio]

Quando verrà Natale

Ho visto un pezzetto della trasmissione cartabianca ieri sera. Devo dire, sempre interessante il pensiero di Orsini, anche se tanto avversato e ridicolizzato dai media (e nei social). Anche su temi non direttamente legati alla politica estera, di cui è indubbiamente esperto.

Riguardo alla discussione sull'aborto, giustamente Orsini ha provato a riconoscere la rilevanza della visione religiosa nel dibattito, stranamente occultata, purtroppo la discussione è andata altrove, sarebbe stato bello approfondire.

Sull'Ucraina è uno dei non molti che (in fondo) ribadisce l'ovvio, che ci prepariamo cioè - con la implicita benedizione di tanti propugnatori di "pace sì ma giusta", oppure "pace ma non qualsiasi" ad un Natale di sangue - a meno che l'Italia si renda protagonista avviando un processo politico nuovo verso un cessate il fuoco.

Le premesse non inducono all'ottimismo, ma la speranza non muore nemmeno sotto le bombe. Vediamo.

[azulity]

Commission for @queenyharnam and @propugnatori of Viktor and Jayce!

Commissions | Ko-fi

[4thdevil]

jayce vc: not sure if he got speared but hammered? yep. pretty sure he did. (:

jhin vc : yeah i think the alcohol did more work than you did

[eciled-moved]

his head on her lap, them both on the living room's couch as he sprawls himself over her legs. hair ruffled and dark circles around his eyes apparent, he's a far cry from the usual prim and proper appearance he keeps as defender. naked hand coming up to riven's cheek to caress it, he smiles openly at her. "took you long enough to come back this time around, you getting tired of piltover?" it's his discreet way of asking if she's bored of him, yet his expression doesn't betray such intent.

Bored was the last thing Riven felt. 

Piltover was nothing like Noxus. Here, the glass-lined windows stack one atop another to coalesce into grand buildings, many stretching high towards the clouds, always reaching, closer, closer. Roads were rarely in disarray; it was rare of her to have taken a step into the downtown and tripped over a pothole, or have her sandal snag on uneven paths. Even the people - once dismissed in her mind as prudish & stuck up - take on a new flavor the more she gets to know them. Desire for knowledge burns in their eyes. An ache to do good, to do better, has seized their bones.

Still. This is all second fiddle to the reason she came back to haunt the land, that reason currently resting in her lap with her hand running through his hair, tracing the whiskers on his face, the curl of his lips. All this, and she cannot help but smile back, amber irises alight with warmth. 

Jayce opens her heart in a language she hasn’t quite learned to speak yet.

“ Not at all. “ She reassures, hand cupping his cheek. She didn’t want to lie, so she wouldn’t, but she also wasn’t ready to bare her truth to him, her ‘i think i love you,’ her ‘i want to stay, be with me.’ “ I have been caught up trying to visit some old acquaintances in Ionia…not all of them are a quick jog from the coast, I fear, so it takes me more time than I might like to get to them. “

Riven cants her head, then leans down to press a quick peck on his lips.

“ Why? Is this your way of saying you miss me, Mister Defender? “

Say that you do, she thinks. Please, say that you do. 

[askdragonbladetalon]

“The only thing that’s ever stopping me is me.”

“Think of it as proof of how good you are if nobody else can stop him,” Talon advised sardonically, gaze roving over the champion of Piltover curiously. While everyone in Noxus knew that Jayce was here on a diplomatic visit, there were no contracts out on him as far as Talon knew – and with how much it would cost to kill a fighter of Jayce’s reputation, Talon would have most definitely heard if anyone in Noxus was looking to take him down.

Meeting him in the bar wasn’t pure chance, however. The gleaming hammer, when seen from the rooftops, had an odd sparkle to it akin to the hextech crystals that Piltover so favored. It was close enough to the blood crystals that rested in the eyes of his dragonblade (made from Vladimir’s blood, made to monitor if Talon was alive or not) that it had piqued Talon’s curiosity and so the assassin had stealthily trailed him from on high.

When Jayce had entered a bar, Talon’s original plan had been to wait outside for him to emerge but then it started raining. While Talon was no stranger to discomfort, he also wasn’t being paid for this so there was no reason to suffer unnecessarily. He’d given up on staking out the place and entered the bar instead, dropping down onto the stool next to Jayce and using that to strike up a conversation.

“Or are we talking about clones here? Piltover’s supposed to be able to do that. Or maybe that’s Zaun. One of you two, anyway.” Talon did know another Jayce – two, in fact – but one of them was a daffodil-loving poet and the other was a murderer. He doubted, very much, that either of them would fare well in open combat against this bright-eyed bruiser.

[clockwandering-blog]

❝ What the hell happened? ❞

                The ball hovered next to her, closer than usual as she holds the open circuitry of her arm. The talons of her fingers lay motionless and open palmed over her knees while she held a delicate, thin tool in her working hand amongst the wires and gears. Several of the gears had been crushed under the durable metal of her forearm several hours ago, though the exterior had only scratches to show for the immense pressure it had been under. It had been at least some time since she had been forced to fight in such a way, but this served as a reminder that she not forget it. Metal was durable. She was strong. 

                She hadn’t noticed or heard Jayce approach her, only looking up to him when the ball whirrs softly next to her and nudges her legs. Orianna finally looks up at him when he speaks, her lips a small, pert frown and her eyes were a stark contrast of searing light in the dark. Her attention return to the open arm, gold and brass cogs arranged in an almost elegant, neat display save for the broken piece that lay on the cobblestone beside her. It was a careful, arduous task removing them, one that demanded precision and patience. 

                “A mi-nor break,” Orianna says as she looks back up at Jayce, her answer rather simple given that she had endured such a casualty due to more violent reasons. The ball hovers further down, the center band turning before it parts without her verbal command. “You do-not need to worry,” she reassures him as she turns back to the ball, her free hand laying her tool down as she retrieves a replacement for the broken cogs. 

[ardentglory]

"---you." jayce tries his best to hide the fear in his voice as he sees the seventh materialize, but it's inevitable: it escapes him all the same, discreet, trickling through the cracks in his mask. taking a measured step away from the monster of an angel, his expression turns flat, blank, but he reigns fright in well enough to keep his voice even. "/ what do you want here? /" ( haven't you taken enough? )

THE HOLY (DEMON) BEING manifested in the form of a golden light— as if he had simply melted into reality. IT was something ancient and unknown; a presence that forced all others to turn away— as does the blinding light of the sun. And that accursed light wavered, twitching in the presence of the inventor— until it garbed itself in flesh and bone. Gold and ivory and red. 

“ What I want? ”   

The Angel of God could see the fear in his eyes; he could always see past Jayce’s posturing. He could then, and he can now. Michael’s predatory gaze remains fixated upon Jayce, even if he turned his back— even when he was not there. He saw, and he knew. Through means that men were not able to comprehend, this abomination had never left Jayce.

And so, he descends and sets foot upon the ground, and begins to move towards Jayce.  What had once appeared to be ivory became steel. The angel’s armor was heavy—almost impossibly so. The ground itself protests around him, cracking with every careful, deliberate step he takes. 

He wields power well, but silence was just as cutting as any blade. It is then and only then, when he stands before the Piltovian that he finally speaks.

  “ We know nothing of want, not in the way YOU LOT do.”

But, he had found himself in a most merciful mood. Or, perhaps he had simply become bored of breaking this particular toy already. There was no fun in SCRAPING OUT HIS GUTS. Though for a brief moment, the thought was tempting.

 “ Though, I suppose I do owe you something, hm? A reason behind your most cruel treatment.”

The angel cants his head to the side, his burning gaze bore into Jayce’s eyes. Searching for that primal surge of fear, something he was certain he would find. His playful smile turns something cruel. 

 “ Very well HUMAN. Consider yourself lucky then, you will receive something that your kind has never received before. An EXPLANATION.”

[essence-flux-primed]

❛ Just tell me one thing. Are you insane or are you just plain stupid? ❜

CHARMED sentence starters

⋆ — He seems perfectly unbothered by the hextech healing pad pressed against his blackening eye. “You should know this, Jayce—genius always comes with a little insanity.” He’d shown up at Jayce’s door, though at least this time it was evening instead of the middle of the night. Now Ezreal sits on one of the desks, swinging his legs contentedly as Jayce tries to pry the full story from him. “Anyway, you’d think after all this time I’d be able to climb that mountain. I mean, I’ve done it a thousand times, but I’ve never been clobbered by a rock like that.” Yes, Ezreal took a boulder to the eye. “Maybe someone’s up there disturbing them? I’ve gotta check it out tomorrow...”

     ... There’s the rub, of course. “Uh, maybe after I talk with Caitlyn and the mayor though. Just in case. They really ought to be more accepting of bruises on an explorer of all things, but I always get a lecture on being ‘presentable.’” He rolls his good eye. “... You said this thing is extra strength, right? Does that mean the mark’ll go away by tomorrow, say, lunchtime?”

[sharpcards-blog]

❣

              don’t worry, there’s enough of good ol’ Fate to go around / open ( mutuals only )

            ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ | Sexual Attraction             ✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Romantic Attraction             ✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Crushing             ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Squishing             ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ | Sensual Attraction             ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction

            Low ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ High

            well, assuming Fate’s encountered Jayce at least once, that is. 

[lightshielded]

propugnatori replied to your post: jayce vc: wow i found someone who gets wilder than me drunk, nice

‘ i’ll drink to that. ’

[slake-my-thirst]

❛❛ please, believe me. you are not my soulmate. you can’t be. ❜❜

“You would quarrel with fate itself?” Lord Vladimir inquired, tone hovering between bored and amused. Between the two of them, a red cord stretched in a glowing line. It was as bright as blood, glowing with luminous menace. So too did the will-o-wisps glow that lured travelers to their dooms in the marsh, so too glowed the candles lit in the tombs of the dead and so too glowed the red of Lord Vladimir’s unnatural eyes.

If the thread had had any weight to it, any substance, it could have easily been taken for yet another manifestation of the monster’s magic. The thought amused the Blood Lord enough that he crooked his fingers to open tiny, identical cuts on his wrist and the mortal’s. Between the two cuts, blood flowed into the air and met in the middle, winding around the red thread of destiny to create a palpable cover. The glow of the cord through the blood made the secondary cord, the wet shell, resemble an umbilical cord still fresh and bloody.

It pleased him to reshape the look of the bond and give it at least the appearance of him having chosen Jayce. He knew it was a lie, of course, but surely this bond was as well. He could not be tied to a short-lived mortal. He could not love, no more than he could grieve; what soul did he even have for destiny to stitch its thread to?

“Fate has a curious way of showing its hand, I will agree,” Lord Vladimir mused thoughtfully, tugging at Jayce’s blood in a wordless command for him to come closer. “But perhaps, little hero, it takes a monster besides you to truly make your halo shine.”

[4thdevil]

one naked, callused hand comes to jhin's jawline, directing his face back to the defender laid by his side, covered only by the thin blankets. the digit dances along it, gently but firmly, and blue meets crimsom with no restriction. "takumi," the name feels like a novelty upon his tongue and there's a small satisfied smile on his face. "i don't imagine a lot of people have had the chance of calling you that, recently."

when they laid side by side , jhin —- no , takumi , has his head tilted away from jayce , laying on his back as normal . but his eyes are closed and slowly does his chest rise and fall in the comfortable silence between them . nothing but resting his eyes as he’d say , an arm tucked under jayce to keep him close and his thumb gently rubs against his side . his focus is wandering in the moment . it had been quite some time since he’s been able to relax , to the point where he can feel rested and lighter . with jayce , after so many days , months , years , of their share of bickering , full - fledged arguing , danger . he could only feel this peace with him , and only him . 

thoughts lurking in his mind , any that come forth , really . but they all cease when he feels the touch against his jawline , it’s a familiar touch , one that is oh , so gentle despite their callused nature . crimson eyes are now open when he feels himself being ushered to turn and face towards the very man who could put up with so much of just who khada jhin was . he found that thought alone to be comforting , enchanting ——– 

so when he looks towards familiar blues , takumi remains silent as he can hear his name spill from cherished lips . the smile that strikes the inventor is contagious as he , too , allows an allured grin to find its way onto his features . a hum of wonder leaves him , playful curiosity has him when he lets his eyes wander over jayce’s features . each one he has committed to memory , recalling every noticeable scar his partner’s body contained , each and every faint mark from a burn , to the dumb little smirks and lopsided grins he’d give . all this , he thinks while he waits for a word to leave martel .

and once it does , he blinks and eyes return to gaze at calm blue eyes .

          ‘   mm … no —–   ’

he lets his smile grow a tad before he pulls him in a bit closer , placing a peck against the smile on jayce’s face . it’s chaste , the kiss . so when he turns his body a bit to face him , he presses another kiss to his lips , this one lingering longer . pulling away , he speaks softly .

          ‘   none have the chance at all . consider yourself special , love .   ’

[goldenjerk]

he has caught air of the affair of his counterpart and he couldn't help himself when by chance, they both cross the mirror at the same time. "---a little bird told me now you can't really judge me by my taste in men, davies." there's a grin on martel's face as he says it, a mischievous glint to his eyes. "guess a taste for danger is in what little blood we share."

“Its not a TASTE,” he begins, grimacing back at his counterpart. That mocking grin was HIS specialty, not Martel’s cowardly ass’. “Its poor luck. I’m guessing I’d reconsider a lot of my decisions if I knew how powerful he was earlier. How, funnily, not-unfounded his god complex is.”

“… Or maybe I’m overreacting and its just me being suspicious of people using magic. That’s a more plausible option. I mean what’s the chance we both got involved with murderous Ionians.”