#the first one is imperative for world domination

[thepuff09]

@doctor4t I have a couple changes for the Rat mod that could be fun/make world domination substantially easier

• Changing into a rat plays the marketable plushie sound (not sure what it’s called, you used it in your Folly ad)

• Not sure if you did this, but the Mask mod Lux made (or helped with, idk) has a feature where wearing a mask hides your UN. Could be pretty useful?

• Perhaps putting a netherite block in a compressed/grinder thingy could make one clothed ingot, would be pretty symbolic considering what started this whole thing

• Putting a rat in an item frame makes a little house for them, with a couple special ones based on the block the frame is on

• Scratchy rat (like from the simpsons)

• Clownpierce rat, Luxintrus rat (Luxintrat?), and EightSidedRat

• I would like to suggest that Clown rats have a small chance to spawn with the funny scythe or hammer, if the mods are installed

• Custom paintings that replace famous pieces with rats (Mona Lisa, The Scream, etc.)

• Rats dance for music like parrots

Also, some ideas that need more explaining:

• A little trumpet you can give to rats that make them play short segments of songs, as well as random notes. I’m thinking Megalovania among others, and a 1/10000 chance of just making the doot sound effect.

• And this might be a bit OP, so I suggest 8 Clothed Blocks for the recipe, but maybe surrounding 1 item with the aforementioned blocks, you can give that item to a rat for them to use, like the laser bows y’all have, or a pickaxe to make them mine faster. Only one item at a time, and you would be able to see it on their backs. Since it’s so expensive, with my proposed netherite conversion making it 5184[?] Netherite Ingots for 1 rat item, plus the item in question, I think either triple durability, or maybe even infinite, would be good.

Enchants would probably need to be applied after the rat item is made, since it could get way to complex to code otherwise.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 2 - Domination

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: LaCroix briefs Vincent on the new world he has just entered into, with the expectation that he will be an obedient ghoul. But Vincent is still struggling to gain the upper hand.

Author's Note: I made myself sad writing this - I want Sebastian to turn from Whumper to Caretaker already!

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, strangulation, kidnapping

It was not LaCroix’s habit to keep his subordinates close to him. If it was wise to keep enemies close, then it was wiser to keep envious inferiors at such a distance that they had no opportunity to become enemies. Ghouls ought to have no knowledge of their master’s weaknesses, and no importance as anything other than pawns. They ought to view him as a solitary, impenetrable figure, above even their understanding. But Vincent Bisset de Gramont proved himself an enemy from the start, and therefore, an exception.

LaCroix repeated that name in his head and smiled, rolling it and playing with it, along with the bullet in his palm which he had decided to keep as a souvenir. Vincent had become so incensed when LaCroix refused to use his title that he determined on the spot never to use it again. The man had to be taught a lesson. “You are no Marquis any longer, let alone an ‘Autem Imperator,’ Vincent. Those titles have no meaning here. You will learn new titles. ‘Prince.’ ‘Regnant.’ ‘Domitor.’ And they will belong to me, not to you - as do all things where we’re going. Know your place.” He leaned back into the quilted suede of his seat, letting starlight and the dimmed glow of the cabin play across his features to what he hoped was a mysterious and intimidating effect.

“Your hubris knows no bounds, Prince,” Vincent spat back, clutching the arms of his seat as if his wrists were lashed to them. “They’re looking for me even now. Do you think you can walk into a High Table duel and make off with the highest ranking –“

“No one is looking for you, because no one knows you’re missing. Everyone who saw me believes they saw a kindly priest who said his respects over your body before helping that fellow – The Harbinger, I believe you call him – lay you to rest in a casket for your mortician to carry away. Tomorrow, that empty casket will be buried.”

A flash of panic before his pretty green eyes lit up again. “The mortician will – “

“The mortician wasn’t your man. He was mine. I sent a local friend to take his place, and to oversee the proceedings. You’re as good as dead, Vincent. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

He went as ghostly white as his travelling companion then. He remained very quiet while Sebastian explained to him the meanings of those important titles he’d mentioned, as well as other relevant words such as “Masquerade” and “Camarilla” and “Ventrue.”

LaCroix’s hope of entertainment during the flight was very much fulfilled. Vincent made for a captivating (if pitiful) image, with blood still smeared across his forehead and wetness sparkling in his eyes. LaCroix couldn’t stop staring at him and wondering whether he’d really cry or not. It filled him with a strange mix of sadism and sympathy that kept the Prince continuously in suspense. It sent him inexplicably trembling to hear Vincent say, “You’ll have to forgive me, Sebastian, I’m just so confused. Please…help me understand everything.”

He was coherent enough to ask intelligent questions though, and always seemed to latch onto those subjects that were a little too top-secret for a first conversation with a ghoul, whilst sighing that he was just so confused and scared. Clearly, he knew his way around a syndicate like the Camarilla and went straight for the vital information. When at last the Prince tired of this game and started to inquire about Vincent’s own organization, he refused to divulge anything.

It confused Sebastian a little. Every other ghoul he’d ever created had hung on his words in an ecstasy that totally drowned out the loss of their former life. They typically begged to repay him for saving them and fell over themselves to please him until he was either amused or disgusted. They certainly didn’t issue desperate pleas and threats about returning to their old life, or try to ply information out of him, or protect their old secrets. But Vincent? Well…there was no doubt that Vincent was affected by Sebastian. Sometimes his eyes lingered on LaCroix as if he wasn’t quite able to look away. But the look there wasn’t puppy love, it was…horror. Hatred. As if Vincent was looking at an old grudge who had wronged him grievously. Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t in deep enough, that was all. He’d only taken the first sip of vitae – two still remained to form a full blood bond. And he was hardly a pliant individual, that much was evident. For now, Sebastian supposed he’d have to secure the ghoul’s cooperation via commands. “Vincent. When I ask you a question about the High Table, you will answer me directly, honestly, and without embellishments. Do you understand?”

A glazed, vacant look replaced the pitiful one. “I understand.”

There, good. Sebastian let out a breath, only just realizing how tense he had become, and began his inquisition.

He knew a little about the High Table already. It was not so different from the Giovanni, but even larger by membership the Camarilla, and impressive for a human construction. It was difficult to be anyone significant in either the human or kindred underworld without running across the High Table’s activities at some point. But the Autem Imperator (Sebastian might not call him by his title out loud, but he wasn’t forgetting it for an instant in his own mind) offered a unique view of its proceedings. Within minutes, LaCroix knew who held each seat, how communications passed between members, how those communications might be intercepted, into which countries their influence had spread (it was most of them), and even where the Elder resided.

It had been no idle tip, he realized, that suggested he should pay a visit to his home country and rest in the basilica that day. It had been, in fact, pure gold in the form of an anonymous email. He almost passed it up as an attempted ruse or ambush, even with all the power promised by the stranger on the other end. But it also spoke to a Masquerade violation, and even the Nosferatu could not trace it. The sender must have had a contact, someone who could encrypt on their level. So he went personally, just for 24 hours, with the resolution that he would return to the safety of LA as soon as possible.

Remembering at last to the original purpose of his visit, LaCroix asked his ghoul one final question, shortly before landing.

“Do you have an associate who would go by the initial ‘C’?”

Even under domination, he rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Sebastian held out the message on his phone. “Who could this have been?”

“Is it true that you can help someone live beyond death? If you really are I’ve been told you are, then come at once, to Paris. Come to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica just before dawn. If you’re lucky and I’m unlucky, you will find a man there who cannot escape death any other way. If you keep him alive, he will offer you knowledge and power equal to your own, pertaining to a human organization you may know as the High Table. Take him away from me, change him, disappear him, I don’t care. Only save his life and make him happy, and you will have my eternal thanks. He does not know, and will never know, what he means to me.”

- C”

“My bodyguard, Chidi.” His voice was strained almost to the breaking point, and his eyes still fixed on Sebastian’s phone even after the email was closed. Sebastian had no questions about whether he was faking his tearfulness this time.

“A ghoul of your very own, of sorts! Where can I find him?”

Vincent closed his eyes for a moment before mustering an answer. “…He’s dead.”

“Ah, splendid. That saves me a great deal of trouble.”

And then Vincent did what no ghoul, whether on one sip of vitae or three, should have been capable of doing. He sprung forward and closed hands around his domitor’s neck.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

It took Vincent much longer than it should have to recall that Sebastian didn’t need to breathe. By that time, he was already being dragged off by the enormous, visibly supernatural thing that Sebastian had introduced as “The Sheriff.”

“Get this brainless lump off of me!”

“Hey,” The Sheriff grunted. Vincent paid him no mind, and continued addressing LaCroix with exactly as much civility as he deserved, all the while straining against the boulder-heavy hands holding him back.

“You will not SPEAK to me that way and you will not – “ Fuck, he hated the way his voice was shaking… “You will not speak of my bodyguard’s death as – as ‘splendid!’”

“And you will not speak to me at all until you can behave yourself!” LaCroix retorted. “SILENCE!”

The voice seemed to go out of Vincent’s throat. All his resistance had been used up in the outburst and he sunk numbly back into his seat.

LaCroix was panting, a shaking hand against his neck. He adjusted his tie and recovered himself enough to laugh. “Imagine trying to strangle a vampire! And the one holding your life in his hands, no less. You’re one to talk of brainlessness. And just when I was beginning to respect your cunning.” Vincent opened his mouth and nothing came out, so he spat in LaCroix’s face instead.

“Oh for god’s sake - You don’t speak AND you don’t move!” Vincent smiled as he watched LaCroix wipe at his face with a handkerchief, scowling. But another wave of terrible compulsion spread through his limbs, and then he was paralyzed.

It was such a strange feeling, being “dominated.” It was the same magnetism that drew him to LaCroix when he first laid eyes on him (that must be the “vitae” he had spoken about), but stronger, and more concentrated. Making him capable of magnificent feats, making him motivated, drawing his focus, making things important to him. As if a power was bursting out from inside of Vincent. It wasn’t so unlike being high, and not wholly unpleasant. But it was not his to control, not a part of him. It was LaCroix’s, and he hated it for that, and he hated LaCroix for that too. Maybe, if he just held onto that hatred…

But LaCroix’s conversation with his Sheriff broke his concentration. “No, I don’t want him in a cell, much less his own apartment. He’s not fully dominated and it’s a security risk. I don’t understand it, but I need to maintain a tight hold over him even if I have to do it by manual override. He stays in the penthouse, with me.”

If The Sheriff understood that, he conveyed it only by grunting.

Damn it. Any chance to get out of LaCroix’s grasp was slipping away. Again, he struggled to protest, but it was useless. He couldn’t speak. His own body was refusing him. It felt traitorous and alien and there was no one to help him, no one looking for him, no Chidi ever again and absolutely nothing he could do. If he had a voice, he would probably be screaming, he realized. But instead, for the second time that day, he floated on a sea of bloody misery, gasping worse and worse by the second. As the jet went into final descent, its weightlessness hit him in the stomach and drove home a second wave of fear.

LaCroix was watching him, leaning over him, speaking to him, in much the same way one might speak to a broken printer shortly before kicking it. He lay a hand on Vincent’s chest to feel his shallow heartbeat and the very core of Vincent’s being rebelled against the way that it soothed him.

“Why are you not calm? You shouldn’t be feeling this way, I don’t understand why it’s not working…” He fixed LaCroix with the most hateful stare he could manage without moving his facial muscles. Why do you think, you useless fils de pute? He felt tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Fine. Good, even.

Again, LaCroix’s magnetic voice overpowered his will with a rush, even more hideously blissful than before. Perhaps it was more in harmony with him than the last had been... “Be calm, Marquis. I command you. Don’t be so afraid.”

And all the wild contents of his heart slipped away into a soft, empty, merciful void.

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[so-long-soldier-writes]

Part of the Action

poly!mikaelsons x human!reader

summary: you're about to be left out of yet another mikaelson plan, when an accidental mix-up happens that might convince them to let you help them. OR, you prove that you've got a lot more fire than the mikaelsons give you credit for.

tags: plotting, blood drinking

word count: 720

You lay across the couch as Klaus goes over his plan for the third time. Your legs are in Kol’s lap, while your head is in Rebekah’s. As he strokes his finger along your thigh, she’s playing with your hair, and none of you are paying much attention to the hybrid. Elijah’s trying his best to listen to his brother, but he’s consumed by a jealousy of not being able to touch you while his siblings do that makes him deaf to the plan. 

“So I’ll need one of you to distract Damon, another to distract Stefan, and-” Klaus pauses, “are any of you idiots listening to me?”

Four pairs of eyes immediately snap up to him. 

“Could you stop petting the girl for one minute so you can tune into my plan for world domination?”

“She’s just so soft, Niklaus,” Rebekah whines, digging her hands into your scalp sweetly.

“Yes, I know, but this is important.”

“So is taking time to relax and love on our little girl.”

He sighs, then looks at you expectantly. You’re only able to fight his gaze for a minute before surrendering. Both Kol and Bekah argue as you move to be sitting in between them, not touching either of them. 

“Thank you, love. Now, this is the plan. One of you distracts Damon, another distracts Stefan. I grab Elena. Y/N, you stay here, because you are not getting caught in any crossfire-”

“Why do you never let me help?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do I always have to sit out when you guys are acting out on plans? I can help. I want to help.”

“We will not risk you getting hurt, baby. It is imperative that you stay here where you’re safe,” Elijah speaks for them all. 

“If I get hurt, you can just heal me! I want to help!”

“No, Y/N. That is an order. You stay here.”

“I can’t be here all the time while you’re always fighting. What if you get hurt?”

“We will heal.”

“Well you can heal me.”

“Love, it’s a no. Now stop fighting the matter before it results in punishment.”

You glare at the two eldest brothers, but then drop your gaze and pout.

Kol immediately leans over to whisper, “we love you too much for you to get hurt, darling. Yes, we can heal you, but there’s still so much risk.”

“Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll stay back. Again.”

He smiles, then kisses your cheek. 

Klaus continues plotting. “I’ll only need Elena for a second, so you all only need to distract them for a little bit. Just long enough for me to make my point.”

You zone out while he talks, knowing there’s no use in listening anyway since you’re on the outs. At some point, Elijah sets his wine glass on the coffee table to stand up to talk to Klaus. Your eyes focus on it. I’m in desperate need of some wine to deal with this shit again, you think, ‘Lijah won’t mind if I steal a sip. 

In one quick motion, you reach for the glass and bring it to your lips. 

He spins around at the sound of movement, eyes immediately going wide. “Baby, that’s not wine. Put it-”

Too late. You take a big sip of the liquid. It’s already in your mouth by the time you realize it’s blood. It shocks you for a second; Elijah’s not usually one to drink blood from wine glasses - that’s usually Kol. But as it sits in your mouth, you find yourself enjoying the taste. It’s thick, oozy, and something about it makes you feel powerful. Like what once was someone’s life force is now being consumed by you. 

In one gulp, you swallow it. It’s heavy down your throat and bubbles in your stomach. The taste lingers on your lips, stained red from its color. 

You set the glass down and lie back on the couch, but not without swiping your tongue across your lips first. “What?” You question the four siblings staring at you. They’re all speechless, yet the longer you look, the more you recognize the love and lust in their eyes. 

Klaus is the first to break the silence. “Well, judging by that, maybe our beautiful and bloodthirsty girl is ready to be a part of the action.”

[palestinegenocide]

Losing the Prophetic

Marc H. Ellis

This week Jewish theologian Marc H. Ellis died at the age of 71 following an extended illness. Marc’s work strived to define a Jewish theology of liberation. His writing and speaking over several decades influenced a countless number of people all over the world, myself included.

We were very lucky to have Marc as a writer at Mondoweiss for several years where he wrote a column called Exile and the Prophetic. That name speaks to a great theme of Marc’s work: the battle between Empire and the prophetic within contemporary Jewish life.

For Marc, the prophetic, or the challenge to power, was the true meaning of Judaism. This is a topic he and I would debate. His belief in a Jewish particularity versus my admittedly secular belief in the universality of the call to justice (which in truth he would never deny). And yet, he would insist that it was this prophetic imperative that Jews are uniquely called to wrestle with, especially in the present age with the advent and domination of Zionism. In his first column for us he wrote, “The prophetic is our indigenous. It is exploding right before our eyes.” This is the story he told through the decades of his work.

To Marc, the true core of Judaism was being sacrificed at the altar of Zionism, or as he often called it Constantinian Judaism, the toxic marriage of religion with state power. If you ever saw him speak or read his writing you are likely familiar with the vision he would recount of imagining an Apache helicopter gunship flying out of a Torah ark during a sabbath service. As you can imagine his work is more relevant today than ever.

There is one article of his that we published more than 10 years ago that I’ve thought about often over the last 8 months of the Gaza genocide. In that article, titled “Burning Children,” Marc returned to one of the great themes of his work – how American Jewish life and theology has been shaped by the experience of the Nazi Holocaust and the challenge that Jewish oppression in Palestine presents to this worldview. In the article he references Rabbi Irving Greenberg who helped shape post-Holocaust Jewish theology in the U.S. and writes:

It was in a 1974 essay that Rabbi Greenberg first wrote about the burning children of the Holocaust as a challenge for the Jewish future. I have quoted this passage often: “After the Holocaust, no statement, theological or otherwise, should be made that is not credible in the presence of the burning children.” Rabbi Greenberg’s invocation of burning children came to life in a different way for me when I visited Palestinian hospitals during the first Palestinian Uprising in 1988 and 1989. There I saw Palestinians of all ages but mostly teenagers who had been shot by Israel’s “rubber” bullets. Some were struggling for life. Others were already brain dead. I visited with the parents and siblings of the injured. Above the beds were martyr photos of the children framed by kefiyas. After I left the hospitals, I wrote a poem about my experience. I used Rabbi Greenberg’s haunting word about burning children to express my experience in the hospitals. In the poem I asked if these Palestinian children weren’t, like the children of the Holocaust, burning too. I felt the Palestinian children I saw were in many ways “our” children. We share a common humanity as starters but for Jews I knew that their “burning” was our responsibility. Though unintended by Rabbi Greenberg, his Holocaust statement has broadened to include Palestinians who are “burning,” this time at the hands of Jews. What theological statement can we make about God that makes sense to the burning children of the Holocaust – and Palestine?”

And he ended the article, written in 2014:

Chastened by history, indeed, Jews are – by the Holocaust and now by Palestine. For in Gaza right now children are burning everywhere.

I thought about Marc often this past week as we published, and imagined the discussions we would have had. How can one not mourn and rage at the unimaginable crime of burning children after reading Reem Hamadaqa’s devastating recounting of the Israeli attack that killed 14 members of her family, or in the essential reporting Tareq Hajjaj shared from the massacre in Nuseirat refugee camp. In that report, 11-year old Tawfiq Abu Youssef told Mondoweiss, “I stayed under the rubble for hours. I did not think for a moment that I might survive and see life again. I had lived through death enough while I was under the rubble. That was death.” I imagine Marc would summon these stories to demonstrate the fight against empire remains central which is why the repression we face, even in the U.S. continues to deepen.

He would also be the first to point out that the prophetic, even if weakened, refuses to submit. I know he would have responded vigorously to Anna Rajagopal’s searing indictment of the discourse over “Jewish values,” and despite the Jewish community’s overwhelming embrace of “Empire Judaism” he would raise up those charting a different path forward.

One moment I will never forget with Marc was a conversation he and I had years ago, as I was editing one of his articles. He told me, whether we knew it or not, our work at Mondoweiss was documenting the end of Jewish ethical history. I was struck then at the power of the statement and remain so today. As I reflect on Marc’s passing this is not a responsibility I take lightly.

Marc will be missed deeply and yet it has never been more clear that his legacy and work will live on. As Marc would likely say, the prophetic cannot die. In fact, Marc told us as much in his own words, “The Jewish prophetic will survive; it will continue to accompany and haunt those Jews who enable and perpetuate injustice against Palestinians.”

[fatehbaz]

Thank you. Glad that it’s enjoyable.

Simultaneous rage and compassion. Solemnity and silliness. Somber yet playful. Grieving and joyous. Fire and whimsy.

The juxtaposition is very deliberate, from me. The contrast between deathly seriousness and silliness. How to live a rich and full life in the shadow, in the grips of unending violence imposed from above, without being solely defined by the trauma.

This was a tag, from just this week, that someone added on a post of mine.

Average tags from an average post. These were also from within a few days of each other, which people added to merely one single post of mine:

I guess, the two realms must coexist if I am to survive and also somehow find, make, experience joy. 

To go about your day, witnessing a thousand “small” cruelties and tragedies merely in the first waking hours of the day during the morning bus ride to work. Watch the city from the window. Gentrification, homelessness, chronic illness, institutional disavowal.

Relentless violence. Without pity.

Sometimes I half-seriously joke about the “ethical imperative to be whimsical.” It hurts! We’re being killed! Things are dire! But we won’t concede joy!

How to make a life when you’re being neglected, forsaken, hunted, actively harmed.

---

In a piece from 2023, in Kohl’s special issue on “Anticolonial Feminist Imaginaries,” Katie Natanel recently described a similar challenge:

‘I think what is sitting in my heart at this moment is how to hold this together: a will to do things otherwise and build things elsewhere, in ways that keep sight of power – and yet refuse it as totalising. [...] [N]ot an abstract theoretical musing [...]. Rather, it is something to be done -- a practice that we envision and embody because we must.’

---

Avery Gordon, who writes often of institutional abandonment and “hauntings,” described our predicament as if we are trapped in hell:

‘[C]oncentration of global wealth and the “extension of hopeless poverties”; […] the intensification of state repression and the growth of police states; the stratification of peoples […]; and the production of surplus populations, such as the landless, the homeless, and the imprisoned, who are treated as social “waste.” […] To be unable to transcend […] the horror […] of such a world order is what hell means […]. Without a glimpse of an elsewhere or otherwise, we’re living in hell. [...] [P]eople are rejecting prison as the ideal model of social order. […] Embedded in this resistance, sometimes explicitly and sometimes implicitly, is both a deep longing for and the articulation of, the existence of a life lived otherwise and elsewhere than in hell. […] Cultivating an instinctual basis for freedom is about identifying the longings that already exist – however muted or marginal […]. The utopian is not only or merely a “fantasy of” and for “the future collectivity”. It is not simply fantasmatic or otherworldly in the conventional temporal sense. The utopian is a way of conceiving and living in the here and now [...]. But there are no guarantees. No guarantees that the time is right […]; no guarantees that just a little more misery and suffering will bring the whole mess down [...]. There are no guarantees of coming millenniums [...], only our complicated selves together and a […] principle in which the history and presence of the instinct for freedom, however fugitive or extreme, is the evidence of the […] possibility because we’ve already begun to realize it. Begun to realize it in those scandalous moments when the present wavers […]. The point is to expose the illusion of supremacy and unassailability dominating institutions and groups routinely generate to mask their fragility and their contingency. The point is […] to encourage […] us […] to be a little less frightened of and more  enthusiastic about our most scandalous utopian desires and actions [...].” [Text from: Avery Gordon. “Some thoughts on the Utopian.” 2016. Bold emphasis added by me.]

Elsewhere, Gordon also says this:

‘In this context of enhanced militarism and securitisation, [...] [there is] more widespread social abandonment and more entrenched inequalities [...]. At the same time, there is widespread, daily, active and open political opposition to all this, at the scale at which people can contest it [...]. And there are also so many people, more and more [...], looking for ways to think and live on different – better terms – and doing it in small ways [...]. What will happen we don’t know, of course. But as more people become unable to participate in the existing economic and governing systems, they must find another way. [...] [A] standpoint and a mindset for living on better terms than we’re offered; for living as if you had the necessity and the freedom to do so; for living in the acknowledgement, that despite the overwhelming power of all the systems of domination which are trying to kill us, they never quite become us. [...] ‘Can a past that the present has not yet caught up with be summoned to haunt the present as an alternative?’ What would happen if we understood that what haunts from the past are precisely all those aspirations and actions – small and large, individual and collective – that oppose racial capitalism and empire and live actively other than on those terms of order. [...] Julius Scott called it ‘the common wind.’’ [Text from: Avery Gordon. As interviewed by Brenna Bhandar and Rafeef Ziadah. “Revolutionary Feminisms: Avery F. Gordon.” Transcribed and published at the blog of Verso Books, 2 September 2020.]

Gordon adds that “the struggle to transform the world takes place immanently today now.”

---

In a similar style, AM Kanngieser says:

‘The no of refusal is a mode of survival: an impenetrable boundary, silent or shouted. It is a refusal to be killed or to succumb [...]. Vast ecosystems flattened for plantations and fields, raw minerals pulled from the ground and sea for the building of nation-states [...]. Being-with requires a pause from which to imagine this otherwise, in all of its vastness and uncertainty. [...] To be-with [...] needs a disposition of attentiveness, listening, curiosity and noticing, [...]. The immensity of the loss of people and ecologies to capitalist brutalities exceeds what we can comprehend. But [...] so do the myriad, and insuppressible flourishings and alliances, the joyfulness and love, the lives lived otherways.’ [Text from: AM Kanngieser. “To undo nature; on refusal as return.” transmediale. 2021.]

---

What kind of “flourishings and alliances”?

In an interview from 2021, Robyn Maynard describes the importance of care, love in “fighting back”:

‘Every day I wake up and rehearse the person I would like to be. […] To use the words of the late, great, C.L.R. James, “every cook can govern.” Organizing, whether formal or informal, whether geared toward a short term goal or a massive, transformative shift: this is what happens when people consciously decide to come together and “shape change,” to think with Octavia Butler. And to move through the world with the intention of making it a better place for living creatures to inhabit. […] And most importantly, it’s an invitation to join in. And it is a reminder that liberation is not a destination but an ongoing process, a praxis. Every day, groups of parents, librarians, nurses, temp workers, ordinary people, tired of the horrors of the present, come together to decide what kind of world they want to inhabit. […] In a historic time of mutual aid, newly created support networks, and old and new freedom strategies, we bear witness to rehearsal, study, experimentation in form, a multiplicity of formations of struggle being waged, often most strongly by people for whom freedom has been most denied. I’m thinking here of Claude McKay’s words from “If We Must Die”: “Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!” [...] [F]or so many people, whether abandoned by the state [...] or abandoned by society in a carceral site, fighting back, by virtue of necessity as well as of ethics, is building, always building. This is the freedom work, and the love work, and the care work, of rehearsal.’ [Text from: Robyn Maynard. “Every Day We Must Get Up and Relearn the World: An Interview with Robyn Maynard and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.” Intefere: Journal for Critical Thought and Radical Politics.” 19 November 2021.]

---

As for whimsy as an antidote.

I like what Dixa Ramirez D’Oleo says:

‘Opacity, multiplicity, and refraction unsettle many […]. Here I must reveal myself as someone who loves deviance and mischief. […] The word furtive delights me. A quick [online] search for synonyms yields other poetically inspiring words: secretive, surreptitious, clandestine, covert, conspiratorial, oblique, and shifty. […] We must fold these small acts of love and creativity and play (and laughter and irreverence and whimsy) into other resistant projects against white supremacy […]. In various trans-American imaginaries, the boonies are raced as nonproductive land inhabited by people who are not fully part of the Western episteme. [...] Caribbean(ist) people are familiar with el monte, the hills, or les mornes. El monte is always just around the corner, encroaching, sprouting persistently like fungi amid the rubble of hurricane disasters or abandoned plantation and industrial sites. [...] The hills, like much of our hemisphere, are sites of damage containing the residual energy of violence, [...] the “places of irresolution.” [...] I turn over rocks and push thorny vines to the side to find wet dirt, small creatures, and, perhaps, delightful hidden treasures [...]. I open my hands so that these and other surprises “jump into [them] with all the pleasures of the unasked for and the unexpected” [...]. Remaining open to these gifts of the nonhuman natural world [...]. What can we make possible when we make room for the unexpected in the midst of ruin. […] How much ruddier might we be against the multiheaded hydra of white supremacy as “a world of mutually-flourishing companions” [...]?’ [Text from: Dixa Ramirez D’Oleo. “Mushrooms and Mischief: On Questions of Blackness.” Small Axe. July 2019.]

[the-perfect-wagnerite-again]

Can you please explain what stuff like "safe horny" is? What do you consider to be "healthy," if you can describe the subject as such, sexuality? I'm not trying to make a gotcha or own, I genuinely am curious as to what that means.

My take on healthy sexuality is deeply influenced by my Kantianism. We humans are unique in that we are simultaneously phenomenal objects and free subjects, and the categorical imperative impels us to treat all subjects as ends in themselves. Sexual desire is an immensely complex phenomenon, and at its core is the base animal instinct for copulation and sexual satisfaction. But the mere slaking of lust is beneath us; it doesn't satisfy, because we are more than just flesh.

Over and above sexual lust is sexual desire, a metaphysical search for the subjecthood of the Other that we sense in our beloved. We know that our subjectivity is the vector through which experience is possible, and so we exist not so much IN the world as on its edge, looking out from the first-person perspective, the state that allows us to utter the word "I" and have it mean something. In the beloved is a recognition of the self reflected back, a not-self in full possession of that same subjectivity, and it is the total knowledge of this alien subjecthood that sexual desire seeks to possess. Why do we get lost in the eyes of our beloved? We don't see the eye as an organ of sight, but as a window to the self. In the eyes, we see a self-possessed "I" looking back at us, which is why the gaze from the beloved has been such a powerful anchor for artists, poets, and musicians throughout the ages. This singular drive for knowledge of the subject is also why it would be insane to suggest to a man in love to trade his wife for a newer or more attractive one. The man in love isn't interested in women writ large, no matter how attractive they might be: his desire is concentrated and focused upon a singular, solitary subject for whom he seeks total knowledge.

In light of this, marriage is now understood as a redemption of the human biological drive for sexual satisfaction. In much the same way we redeem our biological need for nutrition through the cultural apparatus of cooking, meal-taking, and communion, through romance, courtship, and marriage we take the base human drive for sexual possession and uplift it to its apex as pure subjectivity.

What happens when we decouple this connection between the subject and sexual desire? What happens when we shift our understanding of sex as an exercise of epistemology to a mere conjugation of body parts? The relation falls away from that of "I to I" and becomes an "it to it" relation, objects colliding in a world of objects. The true danger of pornography, the sexual revolution, and modern sexual ethics is that they obliterate the subject in the sexual act, and reduce them to the status of object, a body with sexual organs that can be manipulated in the act of intercourse. In this new paradigm, there is no motivation for knowledge of the other, there is only self-satisfaction. The beloved vanishes and in its stead are objects to be consumed through dating apps, pornography, advertising, and menu-mentality approaches to romance as a "marketplace." The only barrier is consent, so any moral castigations beyond that are seen as backwards, oppressive, and reactionary.

Where consent is the only necessary factor for any sexual encounter of any kind or in any circumstance, male sexuality becomes unshackled from the duties and obligations that previously bound it into healthy service to femininity and family. It is once again predatory, as it would be in a state of nature, because we've cast aside our redeeming institutions of romance and courtship as regressive relics of a patriarchal past. "Safe horny" is a refuge for men to express desire without being seen as predatory, which is why we've seen such a dramatic increase in men expressing desires for dominant women and aggressive matriarchal sexual archetypes, in which relation they couldn't possibly be seen as agents themselves. This is a symptom of the larger sexual dysfunction of modernity.

[uchihaharlot]

I have a question, what do you think of Obito/Tobi?

Hello nonny 😌🥹

You are my first ask on this blog 🥳🎉 And it’s of my beloved Obito/Tobi. 😍 Obito forever will be a gentle giant in my eyes with a side of fucking you stupid. Save that for another day. I will distinguish between the two personalities best I can. I feel like, aside from the mask hiding his identity, it was easier for him to be who he wanted to be in Tobi without the pressure.

Some sfw with mild suggestive themes Obito/Tobi headcanons:

Obito:

• Despite his role in bringing near world domination, he’s a lover not a fighter. After all the whole reason he went awol was because of Rin and Madara’s influence.

• Very easily manipulated. ☺️😅 Sorry Obito, he just is so gullible half majority the time. He doesn’t know any better, Madara completely lobotomized him from a young age to be his pawn after he died. A patsy for his own gain for Madara’s return from death.

• Definitely died virginal. Unless he fucked a white Zetsu, and as a teen he wasn’t very explorative given the seclusion and watchful eye of old man Madara. Plus he was focused on healing and growing half his damn body back. Plus, he didn’t look like himself anymore which probably gave him a bit of body dysmorphia and fed his insecurities.

• Genuinely believed he was being led the correct path in life. That he didn’t need anyone or the village — just Madara (especially didn’t need that Bakashi!!).

• Like majority of the men who are traumatized in this series, Obito can’t sleep at night. Late at night the inner confines of his mind play psychological warfare and close in on himself. ‘Am I doing the right thing?’ ‘Will this really make me feel better?’ ‘Will peace come once the dust settles?’

• Holds in his emotions until they crush him, figuratively and literally. Then he really carries the mantra of ‘burdened with glorious purpose.’ It replaces the heart on his sleeve and that’s when he hardens — or he thinks.

• Seeing Rin die definitely was that final straw and at the hands of Kakashi without any preemptive warning on the situation at hand. This is where Obito does a 180 and harnesses that resolve to carryon Madara’s will. Which is where Tobi comes out.

Tobi:

• Let’s see. I think when Obito designed became prisoner to this persona, it was a coping mechanism. Tobi was one way to get around his turmoil and needing a disguise was the perfect way to avoid dealing with deep seated issues. Win/win/???.

• It makes keeping a distance from the other Akatsuki members easier. Tobi doesn’t want to talk about his trauma or about his family’s history. When Itachi joins it’s imperative that the rest don’t know his secret. What trauma? He’s a new man in this new little world he’s made.

• Which is why in the beginning he’s such a butterball of feigned ignorant bliss. Obito never had the chance at a real childhood so what better way than to live that vicariously through his second ego?

• It also boosted his confidence, tremendously. Being an authoritative figure hiding within the ranks of a hand basket of deplorables made him deliciously confident. He can’t pinpoint why exactly, but having the Akatsuki on the string of his tennis shoe like puppets is an ego boost. It’s an added bonus that most are unsuspecting.

• I think Tobi sleeps most nights peacefully, not always though. Still has these moments of uncertainty, like that meme of your brain before going to bed and it spouts off some shit you’d rather not spend the night debating with yourself about. That still happens to Tobi but not as frequently as when it was Obito in the cockpit of his psyche.

• At the end of the day; we all have a face that we would hide. The face of a stranger, and when it comes to Tobi, Obito is his dead name — he doesn’t recognize much beyond the hurt that got him to where he was today. Letting it fester and further infect his brain. What did they call it? The curse of hatred: Obito is the poster child for this. Sure Sasuke would be a runner up but Sasuke literally chose the path of vengeance, Obito was molded by it. Tobi is the darkness and Obito became a prior life.

[arbitrarygreay]

I wonder if the Imperative would have become more of an enemy faction if the show went on for longer. Like yeah, the eugenics is an obvious in for them going overboard, but what prompted this post was something more subtle: The way we see many high status Asian High-Atlantics who have English-colonial surnames, in stark contrast to the surname-less Tarim or the Hague Generals Izuka and Sharma. It makes sense that freed slaves would take on surnames disconnected from their heritage. There was even a system of Chinese slavery in the US (Chinese owning and selling under the table, as this took place after the Civil War), which could allow for some recruitment similar to Black Americans. But I am not aware of a historical precedent in our world for South Asians to also follow such dynamics? Moffett, Saint, Shellbark? So, then, the explanation that comes to mind is that the Imperative was the authority that forced immigrants to marry into the existing US matrilines, instead of allowing any to continue the lines from their home countries. I've been watching Cinemax's Warrior, so an obvious point of wondering is if there were witches amongst the Tongs (what would be the stance on non-citizen immigrants and conscription anyways, and how, you know, criminal organizations inherently break the law), and how they would never abandon their surnames. Meanwhile, 1x8 implies that the US was an intervening party in the Chinese Civil War in the 1960s, which is intriguingly decades later than in our world. But that should only make Chinese nationalism even stronger, if the dynastic system lasted longer. Did the witch military adopt Chinese witches in defiance of the Chinese Exclusion Act? But this still doesn't explain the South Asians. It would be one thing if everyone was much more ambiguously multiracial to support an interpretation of centuries of intermarriage free from racial concerns (and we do have some of those, with Gerit, Treefine, Libba), but we also have characters (like Clary, Izadora, and aforementioned South Asians) who definitely don't have more than 1-3 generations of mixing in their ethnic makeup, indicating either a relatively recent immigration, or an effort not to marry across races. Which is torpedoed by aforementioned adoption of English colonial surnames. So yeah, we come back to the idea that some force is actively preventing non-white witches from maintaining Matrilines with non-English surnames. And who would that be except the faction who is apparently charged with maintaining those Matrilines? Given that the show did still have that undercurrent of interrogating that world's militarism, this seems like a fruitful thread of plot conflict. Especially since China apparently declined participation in the Hague. Alder used the Spree as a way to prevent nationalism from dominating the usage of witch militaries (instead fighting a nebulous international enemy, which the Camarilla also conveniently were), but in the wake of the First Song, why wouldn't nationalism take over once again?

[fancifulrp]

— OPEN FOR RESERVATIONS AND APPS! 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒔 ♡

Adapted to new environments, the old fae have assimilated to human society for thousands of years. As the first inhabitants of earth, the fae folk have learned to tackle new challenges and have grown with nature. All over the world, fae live among the human race in secret. They live in family dynamics, go to school and have jobs. Throughout history, humans have remained largely unaware of the existence of fae - although there are a few souls who know fae exist. By means of marriages, close friendships or a psychic sense; these humans have come into intimate contact with the fae folk and have subsequently been sworn to secrecy. The year 2024, Jeju Island. Humans are still mostly unaware of their magical fellows although trouble has been stirring, bubbling right underneath the surface and threatening to expose the fae race. Tension has been building between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. South Korea’s wanderlust island has become the covert battlefield where an ancient fight for dominance is fought within its shadows. Amidst the tension lurking in the dark, there is an overt search for one's auramate. Because the fae folk don't just have to worry about political tensions, but social norm also dictates that one attempts to find their intended if they want to see the world in colours. Not only will this improve their standing in fae society, but seeing colours is imperative to survival in an underground world where trickery and deceit is apparent.

Welcome to fanciful — 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓?

[seaofserene]

What is her lore? What is her story?

OH i'm flattered by your curiosity !!!

honestly, her backstory & lore is overdue for some revising, here's the deets:

3,000 years ago, there was the echidna tribe that knuckles and tikal are from, right? it's mentioned by the chief why they intended to take the emeralds, they were caught in a war with other nations. that inspired some ideas for me, and basically that idea was 'what kind of other civilizations could have existed back then too?'

serenity comes from a society of long-eared hedgehogs that held the power to manipulate water as a medium for special magics. they worshipped a deity that shepherds the flow of vitality and balance of life & death. they were a very ultraistic people that over time, grew to be more reclusive and shut away from the rest of the world no thanks to the horrible nocturnus clan's efforts at world domination, lead by imperator ix.

serenity lived around the same time as tikal, and the perfect chaos incident. back then, she was called 'seren' - she was an exceptionally gifted member of her people in the art of healing and a talented singer. she was pursued romantically by her former lover - 'aether', who mostly sought her out for the sake of status and to ride the coat tails of her popularity. but he was secretly quite envious of her and wanted to take her place.

a year before the perfect chaos incident, one member of their people - the first oracle, received a vision from their deity that a horrible disaster was coming, but there would be a way out if they worked together to escape it. obviously, many people were skeptical and didn't believe it, but there was plenty of time for them to change their minds. by the time that this event rolled around, a majority of the civilization had been convinced and were willing to follow their oracle's lead. through their combined effort, they created a whirlpool portal that would lead them to a completely new world - one final gift from their deity, safe from harm and war.

in the chaos, seren and aether had struggled to flee too. but seren slipped, and instead of pulling her to safety, aether took it as an opportunity to get rid of her and go on to live in the new world without her.

throwing the rest under a read more because uhh content warning for drowning / head injury / blood / 'death'

so she was thrown into the ocean. she badly hit her head on a rock and consciousness was quickly fading. SOMEONE had dove in to help her, they saw the shit go down with aether. but unfortunately, in her half conscious, desperate, and ANGRY state, serenity kinda abused her healing abilities in a 'reverse' method by draining their life force and unintentionally killing them - which is an extremely big no-no taboo. this kept her "alive" (just barely) and she eventually washed to shore where she lay completely paralyzed in full view of the distant god of destruction's wrath rampaging against the world.

eventually, she was able to move again. her home was destroyed, buried underwater and sediment, and anyone who didn't escape through the portal died too. she was the sole survivor. in her forced isolation, she spiraled into heartbroken & wrath ridden madness, and over time, became the horrible and twisted sea maiden you've come to know.

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[inspectingg]

Exterminator (Gruvia AU) Chapter 9 - Flourish

© 2023 inspectingg (on tumblr, wattpad and fanfiction.net). All rights reserved.

Synopsis: The administration indisputably decided that social status not only determined one’s wealth, but also life or death. Driven by corruption, those who thrived at the top of the chain dominated the world. Desperate to seize absolute control, Exterminators were given the decree to kill. With the entire fate of the human race under their control, it is imperative to lose all morality and sentiment. When killing people is a full-time job, it becomes second nature for Gray Fullbuster. But when the first person he has ever vowed to protect was his next victim, he makes the difficult decision to keep her under his care, training her to kill – or else be killed.

Genres: romance, action & dystopian.

This fanfiction contains violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Author’s note: two chapters updated in a row!? i'm trying to squeeze in as much writing as i can before i get busy again x0. i hope you guys enjoy another chapter of juvia suffering :( ! trust me it will get more fluffy in a few chapters' time :3 there is an exciting gruvia scene in this chapter that will make you hot and bothered ;)

Chapter IX - Flourish

Juvia’s gaze aimlessly fell to the metal bars that meandered around the edge of the tunnels. The ten-metre fall loomed at her feet, inviting her to take another step. Its gloomy shadows enticed her to swing her legs over, straddling the metal between her thighs until she could no longer feel the ground beneath her. 

Jump. 

Her eyes would roll backwards as she was brought back into the tunnel. The wind fights against her hair. Her skin burns from the force and she’s taken by the void. Before she could test those thoughts, she is interrupted by the clatter of Erza’s boots. 

“If you want to die, do it somewhere else.” The Commander’s scarlet eyes flickered between the drop and Juvia’s staggering figure. “I’m busy as it is already.”

“Why did you pair me with Gajeel?” Erza stopped in her tracks. “All my opponents have been in higher ranks,” Juvia stammered. “I don’t see how that’s fair.” Erza immediately swirls her head to face the drifter. 

“I’m always fair,” she hissed. Raising a hand, she slipped a finger down Juvia’s cheek. “I gave you the opportunity to climb the ranks.” Juvia flinched from her nail scraping down her bruised skin. “If you bothered to fight properly, you would’ve rosen the ranks and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, would we?” Her breath hammered against Juvia’s face. “You’ve gotten plenty of help already from a certain someone.” Juvia gulped in response. “Does that answer your question?”

Juvia gave her a small nod and moved away uneasily. 

“Good,” Erza smiled. She turned her head to leave, allowing her hair to follow her like a blaze. “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Juvia flinched as she felt her face burn. Erza’s lips adorned an intense red tint as she let a tongue flicker against her upper lip. “Bora is alive.” 

Juvia winced as a ringing punctured her ears. “You’ll pay. You’ll pay. You’ll pay” She was once again faced with the disfigured man who taunted her with a playful smile. Its flesh gleamed bright red and patches of skin peeled away, revealing the face of a normal man. His features twisted from blotches of red and reverted back to an ordinary man. Juvia couldn’t help but approach him carefully, started by his transformation. She raised a hand in shock, but was knocked over her feet as a stench tickled her nose, sending a rush of sulphur into her oesophagus. She lurched over to cough. A sting at her shoulder caught her motionless. She convulsed as she found a familiar dagger hanging out from her flesh, sending blood running down her body. Before she could recover her posture, the man twisted his neck to meet her face-to-face. 

“Juvia Lockser,” it shrieked, “you’ll pay.” 

Juvia screamed as a fist suddenly hammered against the man’s face repeatedly. With every hit, his face distorted into patches of red and black. Before she could stop what was happening, she realised the man was the one that tried to throw her over the edge, and Gray had killed him. 

A guttural sound escaped his lips and the man began to whimper, its lipless mouth formed a pool of blood before eventually dissipating away into its rotting body. A puddle of frayed skin and flesh piled into a viscous liquid that slithered into the earth. 

Juvia collapsed as her legs gave out. Every moment since she has existed felt like a crime. She buried her head into her hands. An ache grappled at her chest and she let it lave over as she crumbled to the floor. Juvia stared at the reflection of herself on the tiled ground. Before she could take a look, she felt her stomach jab at her skin, as if trying to escape. Her own existence disgusted her. No longer was she able to cry away her pain and troubles. It wasn’t physically possible for her anymore. Dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand, she was surprised to find them dry. She was fearful of how weak she was. A sudden feeling of needing to be strong washed away the unrelenting pain in her shoulder.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The trenches were silent. All the other recruits were in bed but Juvia stood at the centre of the training grounds. She formed her hand into a fist and lashed out onto a punching bag. Her bruised arms raised tirelessly, trying to match the speed she was constantly hit with. She felt her blood boil when she let Bora’s elbow slam into her face. Juvia threw out another punch, allowing the bag to sting her knuckles. His grip strangled her until she could no longer think straight. Her feet casted a blow to the rough fabric. A crude smile plastered across his face as he pierced the knife through her shoulder. She sent out an array of jabs, letting her blood race through her body. Her ragged breathing vibrated through her ribs, shaking her lungs rapidly. Her knuckles ached and her stomach clenched from the extraneous motion. Her shoulder was hammered with pain. However, she was too enraged to care. A shrill scream repeatedly encircled her, and she only accelerated her movements, desperate to drown everything out. 

A cold hand suddenly enclosed her knuckles. Juvia jerked away in surprise and tumbled backwards. Her waist was enclosed by a strong arm and she found herself staring into Gray’s onyx eyes. A rush of heat flowed through her face as she found her palm pressed to his chiselled chest. He gripped her body against his as he leaned down to inspect her. 

“You’ve lost weight.” 

Juvia promptly took a step to steady herself, pulling away from him. She patted down her clothes and swept a lock of stray hair behind her ear. “Why should that concern you?” she muttered. 

He tousled his hair away from his eyes as they surveyed her cautiously. “You’re right, it doesn’t,” he replied bluntly. 

Juvia felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. She wasn’t sure what these feelings were but they confused her. She wanted to stay in his arms, but she was too scared to be close. When he tipped his head closer towards her she wanted to entangle her hands in his hair and kiss him. But when he would nonchalantly touch her with an aloof demeanour, she wanted to slap him away. 

“You…why are you talking to me?” Juvia unconsciously bit her lip. “I thought I said I didn’t want to see you ever again.” 

Gray sighed as he brushed a hand behind his neck. “I don’t know.” His eyes drifted down to Juvia’s feet. 

“That’s all you say,” Juvia muttered. “At least you could make up something.” She took a step back when he leaned down on a knee. “Anything.” 

“I don’t know how to express myself,” he grumbled. His hands followed her stride and caught the loose shoelace between his fingers. “I’m… not sure why I act like this.” No words left Juvia’s mouth as she swallowed down a sob. She watched in silence as he lowered his head to fix her laces. Her heart pounded vehemently. She pressed a palm to her chest, a pointless attempt at calming it down. His charcoal locks swayed gently with every movement. Juvia suppressed the urge to touch his hair. 

He eventually let go and revealed a tight ribbon at the centre of her shoe. “I do know one thing.” Juvia trembled as he rose, allowing his sculpted figure to tower over her. His gaze locked onto Juvia’s quivering eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Before Juvia could respond, she let out a yelp as he sent a swing at her leg and let her fall backwards. He caught her right as she prepared for a harsh collision. 

“You need to be cautious of everyone,” he whispered. She quivered as his breath tickled her ear. “If your opponent is bigger than you, hit them in the diaphragm.” Juvia forgot how to breathe as she felt his grasp tighten around her waist. With a jerk of his arm, Juvia was pulled back upright. 

He suddenly yanked her arms away from her sides and pinned them together with a steady grip. “When a man takes advantage of you in a fight,” he muttered, “remember to kick them in between the legs.” Before he could finish his sentence, he swung Juvia’s body around and rammed it against the wall. She screamed in response and her eyes widened as her back collided against Gray’s arm. Juvia struggled against his hold but he did not budge. His other free hand trailed down her hip and latched on her underthigh. Juvia mewled in response but quickly pressed her palm to her mouth in surprise.

“If someone is about to kick you, get closer to them.” He trailed her thigh with a thumb. “They won’t have enough room to land an accurate hit.” Juvia’s arms flailed desperately above her head. She swallowed hard as the sensation of his hand on her thigh started to leave a burning trail. His chest was pressed against hers and his other hand tightened around her hands. With an aggressive tug, Gray wrapped her leg around his waist. “Are you listening?” 

Juvia blinked in shock, her lips moving to form words but nothing was uttered. His eyes were steady as he peered down at her. She felt every one of his exhales caress her cheek. With his body encased around her, every feature on his face was captivating. His lips were slightly chapped, but they invited her to lean in closer. The way his eyebrows furrowed together accentuated his charcoal gaze, sending her into a state of frenzy she never knew she had in her body. Even the scar etched on his forehead striked her heart. 

Juvia found herself completely infatuated by Gray, the Exterminator who could kill her at any moment.    

[againstboredom]

How Ichigo’s resemblance to Kaien Shiba affected Rukia’s performance in battle, and why she chose to remain in Soul Society after her rescue

I think that Rukia, the beautiful soul that she is, would have given her powers to Ichigo even if he didn’t resembled Kaien. That’s not why she saved him, she did it because she takes her oath to protect ALL souls to heart. She would actually have done it without the oath, it’s the kind of woman that she is. For her the imperative to protect the weak, supersedes all other rules and regulations, it’s her primary drive.

She could have been at Keigo’s house that night, and she would have given him her power, if presented with the same conundrum.

If Ichigo being a swapt palette Kaien did something, it was trowing her off her game enough to allow a run-of-the-mill hallow to get the best of her. We know that getting rid of hallows, with the level of powers of the ones from the first arc was in her ball park, otherwise Ukitake would not have sent her to do it.

So I can only conclude, as the cause for her abysmal performance, the fact that Ichigo’s face triggered her unhealed trauma, of having killed the only person that gave her a place to belong in half a century.

It’s also interesting that if Ichigo’s rain stopped when he managed to save Rukia, Rukia’s rain was pouring heavily even by the time she went to HM, as we see in her interaction with the Kaien impostor.Her saving Ichigo the night they’ve met was not enough.  But where she differs from Ichigo, is that the rain doesn’t dominate her life, even if it continues to pour. She is now happy with her nakama , with Byakuya and has been reconciled with Renji, her oldest firend. Ichigo being her friend, sharing with her his own nakama, beating the stupid ideas out of Byakuya and Renji, finished what Kaien started, he showed Rukia that she was valuable and valued.

She gave him the power to protect, he gave her a place where she belonged.’’Let’s go home Rukia’‘, what other words can express belonging better than ‘‘my home is your home’‘, said in the most literal sense that those words can have?

Ishida even makes her a dress, as a testament that she now has friends in our world, a dress that will help her fit in, a symbol that she belongs, she doesn’t have to hide in closets and steal cloths anymore. When Rukia came out of her cocoon, it happened what Kaien knew it will, her beautiful soul touched the souls of others and now they are friends. Her kindness and her readiness to fight for what is right ,transformed into friends, even people that by all accounts should have been her rivals, a quincy and the girl that believes that they are rivals for Ichigo’s love.

She chooses not to go home with Ichigo and their friends, because although the months she spent with them were maybe the happiest of her life, she wants to get her power back. She chooses the power to protect her friends and indeed every soul everywhere, anywhere, over living the childhood and adolescence that were denied her both in the WOTL and in SS, first by dying as a baby, and then by waking up in Inuzuri, where every day of her childhood was a death game, with the only price being her life.

She will recuperate her power, hone it, do her duty and supervise if the reforms that Ichigo’s  rescue brought about are put into practice. She will not seek refuge in a second childhood/adolescence, she will do her duty as a shinigami, fallowing her conscience and her principles. In the middle of Ichigo shouting the word ‘‘PROTECT’‘ every 5 seconds, we forget that she was the OG protector of Bleach, and the one that got Ichigo to change his mind about what souls deserve protection, it’s all of them.

She is the protector’s protector. And his first teacher on his road to become the man that we see him growing up into. Even if the narrative pushes her aside in the latter part of the manga, she is the impetus and the prime mover of the story, without her it will be no Bleach.

[theculturedmarxist]

What happened to the cycle of renewal? Where are the regular, controlled burns?

Like the California settlers who subjugated the First Nations people and declared war on good fire, the finance sector conquered the tech sector.

It started in the 1980s, the era of personal computers — and Reaganomics. A new economic and legal orthodoxy took hold, one that celebrated monopolies as “efficient,” and counseled governments to nurture and protect corporations as they grew both too big to fail, and too big to jail.

For 40 years, we’ve been steadily reducing antitrust enforcement. That means a company like Google can create a single great product (a search engine) and use investors’ cash to buy a mobile stack, a video stack, an ad stack, a server-management stack, a collaboration stack, a maps and navigation stack — all while repeatedly failing to succeed with any of its in-house products.

It’s hard to appreciate just how many companies tech giants buy. Apple buys other companies more often than you buy groceries.

These giants buy out their rivals specifically to make sure you can’t leave their walled gardens. As Mark Zuckerberg says, “It is better to buy than to compete,” (which is why Zuckerberg bought Instagram, telling his CFO that it was imperative that they do the deal because Facebook users preferred Insta to FB, and were defecting in droves).

As these companies “merge to monopoly,” they are able to capture their regulators, ensuring that the law doesn’t interfere with their plans for literal world domination.

When a sector consists of just a handful of companies, it becomes cozy enough to agree on — and win — its lobbying priorities. That’s why America doesn’t have a federal privacy law. It’s why employees can be misclassified as “gig worker” contractors and denied basic labor protections.

It’s why companies can literally lock you out of your home — and your digital life — by terminating your access to your phone, your cloud, your apps, your thermostat, your door-locks, your family photos, and your tax records, with no appeal — not even the right to sue.

But regulatory capture isn’t merely about ensuring that tech companies can do whatever they want to you. Tech companies are even more concerned with criminalizing the things you want to do to them.

Frank Wilhoit described conservativism as “exactly one proposition”:

There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect.

This is likewise the project of corporatism. Tech platforms are urgently committed to ensuring that they can do anything they want on their platforms — and they’re even more dedicated to the proposition that you must not do anything they don’t want on their platforms.

They can lock you in. You can’t unlock yourself. Facebook attained network-effects growth by giving its users bots that logged into Myspace on their behalf, scraped the contents of their inboxes for the messages from the friends they left behind, and plunked them in their Facebook inboxes.

Facebook then sued a company that did the same thing to Facebook, who wanted to make it as easy for Facebook users to leave Facebook as it had been to get started there.

Apple reverse-engineered Microsoft’s crown jewels — the Office file-formats that kept users locked to its operating systems — so it could clone them and let users change OSes.

Try to do that today — say, to make a runtime so you can use your iOS apps and media on an Android device or a non-Apple desktop — and Apple will reduce you to radioactive rubble.

Big Tech has a million knobs on the back-end that they can endlessly twiddle to keep you locked in — and, just as importantly, they have convinced governments to ban any kind of twiddling back.

This is “felony contempt of business model.”

Governments hold back from passing and enforcing laws that limit the tech giants in the name of nurturing their “efficiency.”

But when states act to prevent new companies — or users, or co-ops, or nonprofits — from making it easier to leave the platforms, they do so in the name of protecting us.

Rather than passing a privacy law that would let them punish Meta, Apple, Google, Oracle, Microsoft and other spying companies, they ban scraping and reverse-engineering because someone might violate the privacy of the users of those platforms.

But a privacy law would control both scrapers and silos, banning tech giants from spying on their users, and banning startups and upstarts from spying on those users, too.

Rather than breaking up ad-tech, banning surveillance ads, and opening up app stores, which would make tech platforms stop stealing money from media companies through ad-fraud, price-gouging and deceptive practices, governments introduce laws requiring tech companies to share (some of) their ill-gotten profits with a few news companies.

This makes the news companies partners with the tech giants, rather than adversaries holding them to account, and makes the news into cheerleaders for massive tech profits, so long as they get their share. Rather than making it easier for the news to declare independence from Big Tech, we are fusing them forever.

We could make it easy for users to leave a tech platform where they are subject to abuse and harassment — but instead, governments pursue policies that require platforms to surveil and control their users in the name of protecting them from each other.

We could make it easy for users to leave a tech platform where their voices are algorithmically silenced, but instead we get laws requiring platforms to somehow “balance” different points of view.

The platforms aren’t merely combustible, they’re always on fire. Once you trap hundreds of millions — or billions — of people inside a walled fortress, where warlords who preside over have unlimited power over their captives, and those captives the are denied any right to liberate themselves, enshittification will surely and inevitably follow.

Laws that block us seizing the means of computation and moving away from Big Tech are like the heroic measures that governments undertake to keep people safe in the smouldering wildland-urban interface.

These measures prop up the lie that we can perfect the tech companies, so they will be suited to eternal rule.

Rather than building more fire debt, we should be making it easy for people to relocate away from the danger so we can have that long-overdue, “good fire” to burn away the rotten giants that have blotted out the sun.

What would that look like?

Well, this week’s news was all about Threads, Meta’s awful Twitter replacement devoted to “brand-safe vaporposting,” where the news and controversy are not welcome, and the experience is “like watching a Powerpoint from the Brand Research team where they tell you that Pop Tarts is crushing it on social.”

Threads may be a vacuous “Twitter alternative you would order from Brookstone,” but it commanded a lot of news, because it experienced massive growth in just hours. “Two million signups in the first two hours” and “30 million signups in the first morning.”

That growth was network-effects driven. Specifically, Meta made it possible for you to automatically carry over your list of followed Instagram accounts to Threads.

Meta was able to do this because it owns both Threads and Instagram. But Meta does not own the list of people you trust and enjoy enough to follow.

That’s yours.

Your relationships belong to you. You should be able to bring them from one service to another.

Take Mastodon. One of the most common complaints about Mastodon is that it’s hard to know whom to follow there. But as a technical matter, it’s easy: you should just follow the people you used to follow on Twitter —either because they’re on Mastodon, too, or because there’s a way to use Mastodon to read their Twitter posts.

Indeed, this is already built into Mastodon. With one click, you can export the list of everyone you follow, and everyone who follows you. Then you can switch Mastodon servers, upload that file, and automatically re-establish all those relationships.

That means that if the person who runs your server decides to shut it down, or if the server ends up being run by a maniac who hates you and delights in your torment, you don’t have to petition a public prosecutor or an elected lawmaker or a regulator to make them behave better.

You can just leave.

Meta claims that Threads will someday join the “Fediverse” (the collection of apps built on top of ActivityPub, the standard that powers Mastodon).

Rather than passing laws requiring Threads to prioritize news content, or to limit the kinds of ads the platform accepts, we could order it to turn on this Fediverse gateway and operate it such that any Threads user can leave, join any other Fediverse server, and continue to see posts from the people they follow, and who will also continue to see their posts.

Rather than devoting all our energy to keep Meta’s empire of oily rags from burning, we could devote ourselves to evacuating the burn zone.

This is the thing the platforms fear the most. They know that network effects gave them explosive growth, and they know that tech’s low switching costs will enable implosive contraction.

The thing is, network effects are a double-edged sword. People join a service to be with the people they care about. But when the people they care about start to leave, everyone rushes for the exits. Here’s danah boyd, describing the last days of Myspace:

If a central node in a network disappeared and went somewhere else (like from MySpace to Facebook), that person could pull some portion of their connections with them to a new site. However, if the accounts on the site that drew emotional intensity stopped doing so, people stopped engaging as much. Watching Friendster come undone, I started to think that the fading of emotionally sticky nodes was even more problematic than the disappearance of segments of the graph. With MySpace, I was trying to identify the point where I thought the site was going to unravel. When I started seeing the disappearance of emotionally sticky nodes, I reached out to members of the MySpace team to share my concerns and they told me that their numbers looked fine. Active uniques were high, the amount of time people spent on the site was continuing to grow, and new accounts were being created at a rate faster than accounts were being closed. I shook my head; I didn’t think that was enough. A few months later, the site started to unravel.

Tech bosses know the only thing protecting them from sudden platform collapse syndrome are the laws that have been passed to stave off the inevitable fire.

They know that platforms implode “slowly, then all at once.”

They know that if we weren’t holding each other hostage, we’d all leave in a heartbeat.

But anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop. Suppressing good fire doesn’t mean “no fires,” it means wildfires. It’s time to declare fire debt bankruptcy. It’s time to admit we can’t make these combustible, tinder-heavy forests safe.

It’s time to start moving people out of the danger zone.

It’s time to let the platforms burn.

[lepreuxchevalier]

Alano di Castiglione, “Il Duca Regnante di Messina” and “Il Capo Attuale di Casa Castiglione.” One of the nominal, feudal vassals to The Emperors-Elect of “The Empire of Mankind” or “Das Kaiserreich der Menscheit” officially seated at “Nymphenburg,” the provincial capital of “Der Reichstaat” or “The Imperial Demesne” and the ancestral seat of power of “The Imperial Household.” The Imperial Household or “Der Kaiserliche Haushalt” essentially being the “hereditary” or otherwise the “preferential” candidates for the official elections for the title of “Emperor of Mankind,” as well as the direct descendants of Prinz Heinrich Von Nymphenburg as The First, Crowned Imperator of “The Empire of Mankind Secundus” to be officially crowned and anointed by Archpatriarch Demetrius IV, “The 100th Bishop of Romulus” and “The Head of The Conservative Church of The New Gods.” Alano di Castiglione is one of the feudal, hereditary, “Imperial Princeps” or “Imperial Magnates” from the “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” cultural and linguistic hemisphere of “The Empire of Mankind Proper” or “Das Selbst Kaiserreich der Menscheit” geographically located within “The Olympian Mountain Valley” located within the southern frontiers of The Empire. “Il Ducato di Messina“ or “The Duchy of Messina” as the hereditary state of “Casa Castiglione” or “House Castiglione” roughly corresponds to the lands of “Classical Mycenae,” or the constituent heartlands of “The Classical Mycenean Civilization” during the long forgotten epoch of “Classical Antiquity” within the recorded histories of “The Civilized World.” “The Civilized World” as strictly and officially defined and prescribed by both the ecclesiastical and monastic clergy of “The Conservative Church of The New Gods” officially seated within The Holy Sept in Romulus as the historic kernel, capital, and namesake of both The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Republic and “The Empire of Mankind Primus” that once dominated the geographic majority of “The Civilized World” and beyond. As well as “The Civilized World” as strictly and officially defined and prescribed by the nonconformist preachers of the multitude, or the plethora of “Reformed” and “Dissenter” state churches of The New Gods based on the theological reforms of Karl von Luxembourg and Cassyon Dufresne, respectively. It has been universally agreed upon by both the scholastic, academic communities officially sponsored by the ecclesiastical patronage of The Conservative Church of The New Gods, as well as the scholastic, academic communities officially sponsored by secular, royal and aristocratic patronage of The Civilized World’s royal and princely houses, that “The Classical Mycenean Civilization” autochthonous to “Classical Mycenae,” or the constituent lands of the modern “Il Ducato di Messina” is the first, oldest, and arguably the single greatest Classical Civilization to come from “The Civilized World.” Geopolitically divided into a myriad, or a plethora of hundreds of tiny city-states known as “poleis” ruled almost exclusively either by hereditary, petty kings known as “Tyranos” or “Basileus” as well as “Aristokratos,” or oligarchical, noble republics ruled by councils consisting of representatives of the most prominent dynastic houses of hereditary aristocrats and nobles. The “poleis” of Classical Mycenae would develop a significant colonial presence throughout the lands of “Magna Mycenae” or “Mycenae Occidentalis,” the modern day “Westerlande” under the mercantile, republican rule of “Die Vereinten Gilden,” as well as a significant colonial presence on the northern and western coastlines of the modern day “Le Royaume d’Aquitaine.” Confederated under the leadership of “Alexius the Great,” Basileus of the peripheral Mycenean kingdom of “Nicomedia” as “the igumen” or “the hegemon” of the Nicomedean-led “League of Galedon.” All of the poleis of Classical Mycenae, as well as the overwhelming majority of the poleis of Magna Mycenae united against the common threat and enemy of the enormous, Classical Achaemenid Empire largely based on the southern hemisphere of the modern day “Al-Khalifat Al-Khashabar.” Both the Nicomedean-led Mycenean Empire built by Basileus Alexius the Great of Nicomedia and his “League of Galedon,” as well as the so-called “Successor States” officially founded by his “Diadochi” or his closest generals and companions after the collapse of The Classical Nicomedean Empire with the untimely demise of Alexius the Great, would begin the so-called “Mycenean Golden Age” of Classical Civilization that was characterized by the widespread proliferation and growth of Classical Mycenean culture, religion, and civilization throughout and beyond the established frontiers of The Civilized World. The material, intellectual, and social culture, religion, traditions, and customs of The Classical Myceneans would leave an indelible mark upon the cultural, religious, and civilizational development of The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Republic and “The Empire of Mankind Primus.” Which is most explicitly apparent with the formal adoption and the religious appropriation of The Classical Mycenean Pantheon through the historic conversion of Augustinian Regulus as The First Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Imperator of Mankind in syncretic concurrence with religious worship in The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Pantheon which would later be termed as The Canon Pantheons of The Old Gods and The New Gods during and after the subsequent events of “The Enochian Heresy” and the formal and official drafting and codification the most popular Classical Mycenean and Romulan mythologies into the canon theology of The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan rite and liturgy of “The Holy Canons of The New Gods” under the theological reforms traditionally attributed to The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Imperator of Mankind “Cassadorian the Great,” as well as the so-called “Feudal Age” or “The Age of Chivalry” that would characterize the recorded histories of The Civilized World long after the collapse of Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Civilization. The first major epoch within the recorded histories of “The Civilized World” is termed as “Classical Antiquity,” as it was the material, intellectual, and social culture, religion, customs, and traditions of the Classical Myceneans would set up “the cultural foundation,” or otherwise “the civilizational bedrock” for both Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Civilization, as well as “The Vernacular Cosmopolitan” cultures and states that would characterize “The Feudal Age” or “The Age of Chivalry” within the long and storied, recorded histories of The Civilized World long after the collapse of Classical Romulan Civilization.

Under the secular, aristocratic, and princely patronage of Alano di Castiglione as “Il Duca Regnante di Messina” and “Il Capo Attuale di Casa Castiglione.” Professional scholars and artists have been officially commissioned to explore and study the remnants of the Classical Romulan and Mycenean civilizations of the “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” states’ ancestral forebears. Alongside Adriano Martini as “Il Console-Eletti della Reppubbica Serenissima di Toscana” and Ronaldo de Fernandez as “El Marqués Reinante de Estalia.” Alano di Castiglione as “Il Duca Regnante di Messina” and “Il Capo Attuale di Casa Castigione” has become one of the foremost patrons of the so-called “Olympian Renaissance” or “Il Rinascimento Olympiano” within the “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” cultural and linguistic hemisphere. As a material and intellectual cultural movement that originally began towards the end of “The Feudal Age” or “The Age of Chivalry” within The Civilized World’s long and storied, recorded histories. The Olympian Renaissance has had a profound impact on the development of secular art, music, literature, and philosophy. Using the novel technologies of mechanical printing and papermaking, those exact same technological inventions which would later aid in the mass proliferation of the theological reforms and the treatises of both Karl von Luxembourg and Cassyon Dufresne in the form of their written thesis’ openly condemning the corruption, the abuses, and the worldly excesses of the spiritual, cultural, and moral authority of the ecclesiastical and monastic clergy of “The Conservative Church of The New Gods,” as well as the vernacular translations of The Holy Canons of The New Gods that would go synonymously with the Luxembourgian and the Dissenter reformations throughout and beyond the Empire of Mankind’s established frontiers. Both the vernacular translations of Classical Romulan and Mycenean literary works and philosophical treatises, as well as printed copies of the academic research and the discoveries officially penned and drafted by scholars and artists willing to explore and study the remnants of the old, Classical Romulan and Mycenean culture and civilization within the “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” hemisphere of “The Empire of Mankind Secundus” would propel both an elite and a plebeian interest in “Il Rinascimento Olympiano” as a cultural and intellectual movement far beyond the established frontiers of the “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” states of “The Empire of Mankind Secundus.” With the philosophical and the intellectual cultural revival of “secular humanism” corresponding with the widespread proliferation of secular art, music, literature, and philosophy inherently tied to, and based on both the ecclesiastical and the princely patronage of the academic research and the cultural rediscovery of Classical Romulan and Mycenean culture and civilization based within the geographic boundaries of The Olympian Mountain Valley. Modern scholars and academics within and without the “Frivolous” or the “Southern Imperial” cultural and linguistic hemisphere of “The Empire of Mankind Secundus” are often seen comparing and critiquing both the contemporary society that they live in, as well as that of the previous “Feudal Age” or “The Age of Chivalry” of The Civilized World’s long and storied, recorded histories to the ideals of classical philosophers. Proliferating the rise of secular philosophy and intellectual culture inherently tied to the belief in expanding both the potential and the inherent capacity of human beings as “thinking, feeling, conscious individuals” and of human civilization as a collective whole. And in the process setting new standards and ideals for both the ruling classes as well as the ruled. Intellectual and cultural connoisseurs of the academic discoveries and the research of “Il Rinascimento Olympiano” have been known to become experts on anything and everything from art, to music, to philosophy, to literary analysis, to political theory, to military strategy, to the material sciences, and everything in between.

Apart from his leading role in proliferating “Il Rinascimento Olympiano” as a material and intellectual cultural movement through his secular, aristocratic, and princely patronage of scholars and artists willing to study and explore the remnants of Classical Romulan and Mycenean culture and civilization. As well as his outspoken sponsorship and patronage of the spread and the proliferation of “secular humanism” as a philosophical and an intellectual cultural movement inherently separate, or otherwise detached from the religious teachings and the theological doctrines of “The Holy Canons of The New Gods” as officially preached and prescribed by the ecclesiastical and the monastic clergy of “The Conservative Church of The New Gods” officially seated in The Holy Sept of Romulus as the historic kernel, capital, and titular namesake of both The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Republic and “The Empire of Mankind Primus.” Alano di Castiglione has been plotting in conjunction with Adriano Martini as “Il Console-Eletti de La Serenissima Repubblica di Toscana” or “La Serenissima” to form “La Lega Olympica” “The Olympic League” of “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” states campaigning for maximized autonomy from the feudal supremacy and the excesses of the culturally and geographically distant Emperors-Elect of Mankind officially seated at “Nymphenburg,” the provincial capital of “Der Reichstaat,��� or “The Imperial Demesne” and the hereditary lands of “Der Kaiserliche Haushalt” or “The Imperial Household” directly descended from the hereditary bloodline of Prinz Heinrich Von Nymphenburg as “The First Crowned Imperator of The Empire of Mankind Secundus.” Adriano Martini as “Il Presidente Ufficiale” or “The Official Chairman” to “La Lega Olympica” campaigning for maximized autonomy from the feudal supremacy and the excesses of “Die designiert-Kaiser der Menscheit” or “The Emperors-Elect of Mankind” has had much difficulty in persuading Ronaldo de Fernandez as “El Marqués Reinante de Estalia” and “El Encargado Attual de Casa Fernandez” to join and complete his “Lega Olympica” in their campaign to achieve “maximized” autonomy from the feudal supremacy and excesses of The Emperors-Elect. “La Consorte-Marquesa” to Ronaldo de Fernandez as “El Marqués Reinante de Estalia” is a “dynastic scion” or otherwise a “legitimate issue” of “Der Kaiserliche Haushalt” or “The Imperial Household” officially seated at Nymphenburg, whose dynastic patriarch officially holds the title of Emperor-Elect as “Alexius VI, 101st and reigning Emperor of Mankind and Current Head of The Imperial Household.” Ronaldo de Fernandez “El Marqués Reinante de Estalia” is also hellbent on cultivating closer political and religious ties with “L’Arcipatriarcato” or “The Archpatriarchy” officially seated within The Holy Sept of Romulus as the historic kernel, capital, and namesake of both The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Republic and “The Empire of Mankind Primus.” As a legitimate issue of Casa Fernandez de Estalia currently holds the title of “Bishop-Preferati” or “Archpatriarchal Protégé” for the next official election to succeed the venerable and ailing Archpatriarch Vexillarius IV for the spiritual, cultural, and moral leadership of The Conservative Church of The New Gods as the next Bishop of Romulus. With the overwhelming majority of “The Curia” or “The College of Cardinals” supporting his official election for Archpatriarch due to the political and religious turbulence, tumult, and upheaval associated with The Luxembourgian and Dissenter Reformations throughout and beyond The Empire of Mankind Secundus’ established frontiers. Vexillarius IV as “The 299th and Reigning Bishop of Romulus” and “The Current Head of The Conservative Church of The New Gods” is a natural ally to Alexius VI and The Imperial Household as the hereditary, dynastic, “Imperial Princeps” or “Imperial Magnate” for “Der Reichstaat” or “The Imperial Demesne.” As Alexius VI as “The 101st and Reigning Emperor of Mankind” and “The Current Head of The Imperial Household” is supremely reliant on the unanimous support of all three ecclesiastical, invested “Kurfürsten Des Selbst Kaiserreich der Menscheit” to retain his dynastic household’s ancestral monopoly over the official elections for the title of Emperor-Elect. Especially in an age when most of the secular, hereditary "Kurfürsten Des Selbst Kaiserreich der Menscheit" outside of the staunchly and fervently Conservative “Hohenluxembourg Des Königreich Schönbrunn” have formally annulled their spiritual ties to The Holy Sept in Romulus through their legislative decrees to officially convert to either "The Luxembourgian Reforms" or "The Dissenter Theology" on behalf of their dynastic houses and their hereditary subjects. The three ecclesiastical, invested, “Kurfürsten Des Selbst Kaiserreich der Menscheit” essentially being the Bishop-Princes of Griffenheim, Garyalburg, and Elchingen within the clergy of The Conservative Church of The New Gods.

Although supremely sympathetic to the “Reformed Union” under the leadership of Conrad Von Buchenauer as “Der herrschend Herzog von Solingen,” “Der momentan Chef von Hohenbuchenauer,” secular, hereditary “Kurfürst Des Selbst Kaiserreich der Menscheit,” and above all, the self-proclaimed “Defender, Guarantor, and Worldly Champion of Karl Von Luxembourg’s general, sweeping, and international reformation to The Conservative Church of The New Gods” with his ideological campaign to resist Alexius VI’s designs on imposing religious uniformity over the entire Empire of Mankind Secundus under the spiritual, cultural, and moral authority and leadership of The Conservative Church of The New Gods seated within The Holy Sept at Romulus. Both Adriano Martini and Alano di Castiglione as the two leading “Imperial Princeps” or “Imperial Magnates” within “La Lega Olympica” of “Frivolous” or “Southern Imperial” states officially campaigning for maximized autonomy from the feudal supremacy and the excesses of The Emperors-Elect of Mankind are extremely reluctant to conspire in conjunction with and in concurrence to Herzog Conrad von Buchenauer and his “Reformed Union.” As a plurality of “The Curia” or “The College of Cardinals” officially seated within The Holy Sept at Romulus compose of “legitimate issues” or otherwise “dynastic scions” of the baronial and knightly houses of feudal aristocracy and nobility from “Il Ducato di Messina” and “La Reppubblica Serenissima di Toscana,” who form a powerful lobby for both political and military support to both Casa Castiglione as “I Duchi di Messina” and Casa Martini as the longtime “I Consoli-Eletti della Reppubblica Serenissima di Toscana.” As the baronial and knightly houses of The Duchy of Messina and The Toscanii Republic form the feudal, aristocratic levies of knightly retinues and pike-and-shotte infantry regiments who supplement the professional armies of knightly, heavy cavalry and pike-and-shotte infantry in direct homage and military service to The Dukes of Messina and The Consuls-Elect of Toscana.

[cryptidqueerr]

I posted 4,084 times in 2022

That's 95 more posts than 2021!

109 posts created (3%)

3,975 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@drownedinlight

@ukulelekatie

@bushy-haired-know-it-all

@ximajs

@windewehn

I tagged 499 of my posts in 2022

#he lives in queue - 170 posts

#text - 167 posts

#cr spoilers - 26 posts

#critical role - 22 posts

#gideon the 9th - 21 posts

#tlovm - 14 posts

#tlovm spoilers - 11 posts

#the locked tomb - 8 posts

#laura plays d&d - 6 posts

#critical role spoilers - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i’d add to this that miyazaki took a book written by an english woman who lived through wwii that had war as a backdrop but centered people

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

i’m your biggest fan, i’ll follow you because i love you, nosfer, nosferatu

117 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

#4

i s2g if you’re new here from twitter you had better not bring all that over-the-top asshole behavior over here and start trying to bully our nice celebrities out of town. this isn’t like twitter, this isn’t a vehicle for your stunted rage, you don’t get to just throw bullshit around and get a power trip off being a dick to someone more famous than you. they’ve been here longer than you and by god they’ll be here after if I have anything to say about it

145 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#3

me every day reading a new letter from my friend jonathan harker or, alternatively, receiving no new communication from my friend jonathan harker:

496 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

#2

okay real serious talk from your internet big sister: i really need y’all to be prepared for conservatives to retake a lot of societal ground in the next few years. there are so many younger people, especially young queer people, who don’t remember the bush era, don’t remember the 2000’s, who only see society as it is now where left/liberal ideologies really dominate the general social fabric and are going to have a really rough time when conservatives start controlling a lot of the social dialogue. a lot of what we’ve been used to being able to avoid because the really blatant conservative messaging has mostly kept to itself might be about to become mainstream. their beliefs are going to start to show up the TV you watch, the advertising you see, the music you listen to. it’s going to feel like losing ground, losing time, being pushed out of spaces where you were welcomed and acknowledged.

this isn’t to scare you, honestly. we lived through it not so long ago and still pushed through and got here, we’ll do it again. it’s just to make you aware and let you know that if you do start seeing those kinds of messages or start seeing the representation that you love go away, it’s going to be okay. people haven’t suddenly regressed around you - the assholes just got louder. you’re still loved and welcomed and you can still find places to have a home, they just might be a little harder to find for a while. but people will always work to push things forward again, and even if we lose now we will get back one day ❤️

4,792 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i am here to tell you that it is okay for there to be good things in your life right now. to celebrate the little, local, personal wins. it is okay for today to be a good day for you, even when there is so much bad in the world. actually, if you’ll permit me to tell you a secret: it is absolutely imperative when the world at large is this bad that you enjoy the moments that are good. sing because you are in love, for the first time or for the first time in a long time. celebrate a good grade, good work feedback, a successful dessert finally achieved. sleep in a bit of sun and enjoy feeling safe and warm and comfortable. it doesn’t mean you don’t care. it doesn’t make you callous or cold. you know bad things are happening but you also need, desperately, to know that not all things are bad. find it when you can, and enjoy it without guilt, and if you need permission then here it is, freely given

7,338 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

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