#time preference

[kntxt]

I inspired myself today. Perhaps i can inspire someone else as well.

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[ssjkamui-digitalphoenixug]

Donald Trump and the rediscovery of roots and the future

Michael Kumpmann discusses the tension between modernity’s abandonment of visionary futures and the efforts to reclaim them, examining how Archeofuturism, Esoteric Trumpism, and figures like Elon Musk, along with cultural movements like Japan’s Gothic Lolita fashion and intellectual frameworks like the Fourth Political Theory, aim to bridge the gap between tradition and futurism.

During his election campaign, Donald Trump spoke of bringing us “flying cars” and futuristic “freedom cities.” At first glance, this sounds utterly ridiculous — Trump as a president bringing to life the “silly TV science fiction” of The Jetsons or Futurama.

However, this might be far less ridiculous than it initially appears. The author Constantin von Hofmeister describes Trump in his book Esoteric Trumpism as an idealistic president who seeks to restore America’s dreams of the future and to save what the author Mark Fisher calls the “lost future.” Some of the more outlandish theories from the QAnon movement about Trump’s Space Force, Solar Warden, and his influence on alien wars suggest that certain factions of Trump’s supporters literally view him as a real-life Captain Kirk.

Poppers abolition of the future

But what exactly is this “lost future”? The postmodern author Mark Fisher proposes in his book Capitalist Realism the thesis of an invisible but all-encompassing meta-ideology he called capitalist realism. This ideology broadly claims, much like Karl Popper argued in The Open Society and Its Enemies, that modern liberalism is the only viable political ideology, and even entertaining the thought of an alternative leads straight to disaster. Instead of attempting to change the system, people are encouraged to pursue only minor reforms and incremental improvements. This micromanagement of bureaucracy has run rampant under postmodern neoliberalism.

Fisher argues that this core assumption is deeply entrenched in society. Consequently, today’s Western left is a group of total failures. They speak of the necessity to abolish capitalism and establish communism, but such demands are either youthful daydreams or mere “bar talk.” When the left gains power, they abandon these plans immediately in favor of left-liberal micromanagement or a continuation of the status quo. Due to the rejection of any alternative, major changes in Western politics never occur. (For instance, Barack Obama initially criticized George W. Bush for many policies, such as the wars in the Middle East, only to continue them once elected.)

One effect of this capitalist realism is that people’s temporal horizons shrink to the immediate present, and they lose the ability to conceive of long-term concepts of the future. It is worth noting here that this echoes Hans-Hermann Hoppe’s thesis of the extreme rise of present-time preference in liberal modernity. However, whereas Hoppe and Michael Anissimov attributed this to liberal democracy rather than capitalism, Fisher uses a different definition of capitalism. For Hoppe and Anissimov, capitalism equates to the free market. Fisher, on the other hand, argues that capitalism is both an ideology about markets and a system that politically favors certain market actors over others.

This means that the future disappears from thought, replaced by an endless present. The future is broken off. Over the past 24 years, we have experienced this phenomenon acutely.

In the 1950s, nuclear power symbolized a golden future. Plans were made for home reactors and nuclear-powered cars (the latter would have allowed the average person to refuel only once a year or even once every two years). Yet now, Germany’s Green Party has dismantled and destroyed its nuclear facilities with acid, opting instead to import LNG gas from the United States, which involves chemically contaminating parts of the North Sea.

The legendary Concorde was retired. The Space Shuttle program in the United States ended. Germany’s last great futurist project, the Transrapid, was abandoned after an accident that was clearly caused by human error. When George W. Bush suggested building a space colony, he was laughed at.

The Transrapid train

Instead of an optimistic future, the West is inundated with dystopian scenarios like the climate apocalypse.

This leads to the paradoxical situation where people watch new Star Trek films set 300 years in the future to feel nostalgic for a past that is now over 50 years old. The future is dismissed as a ridiculous fantasy, yet the spirit of unfulfilled future dreams haunts people like a guilty conscience or a literal ghost.

Julius Evola spoke of the Westerner as a “man among the ruins,” standing among the remnants of his great past. Today, however, a second, equally large pile of debris has formed in the Western psyche: the ruins of countless unfulfilled promises of the future. Westerners have no roots, no future, but they have billions of genders to choose from.

For the United States in particular, the abolition of the future and the end of the “Faustian man” are especially significant because they mark the loss of something integral to the American identity. As I argued in a previous text based on Alexander Dugin’s analyses, the American nomos and existence are tied to the idea of the frontier. This is not merely the uncharted territories of the Wild West. By the 1950s, it had come to symbolize the belief that utopian visions of the future were literally just around the corner, waiting to be discovered.

Constantin von Hofmeister speculates in his book that the Trump administration — and particularly Trump’s supporters — seek to escape this intellectual impotence of the West. Trump, therefore, is envisioned as “Archeofuturist,” capable of rescuing both the past and the future. In the end, he might unify the two, giving equal regard to tradition and futurism — similar to science-fiction works like Frank Herbert’s Dune or Legend of the Galactic Heroes.

Chinas path towards tradition and the future

China may already be evolving in precisely this direction. (Much like Japan in the 1980s, before it was hit by an economic crisis, a lost decade, and a spiritual malaise.) China is increasingly developing into a Confucian revivalist state, while simultaneously embracing its role as a futuristic high-tech nation. As the West abandoned projects like the Transrapid, China is currently constructing several lines of its monorail system. China might be the best example of why tradition is needed to save the future.

Elon Musk, Silicon Valley and the Californian Ideology

Elon Musk comes from Silicon Valley, which for years was known as a hub of futurism and libertarianism. Just a decade ago, Apple’s grand presentations of new devices and technologies generated immense excitement for innovation among the general public. (The structuralist Umberto Eco even described companies like Apple as having a symbolic religious character. This could, if generously interpreted, be called Archeofuturist.) Today, however, the West’s enthusiasm for technological novelties has waned. Most people barely noticed Meta’s augmented reality glasses, if they noticed them at all. The emergence of AI also passed with little fanfare or advance promotion — it was simply suddenly there.

Elon Musk represents the last vestiges of the old Silicon Valley spirit. But what does that mean? What is the Californian ideology?

The founder of the “Silicon Valley ideology” was essentially the ex-hippie Stewart Brand, a libertarian heavily influenced by Robert Heinlein. In the 1960s, Brand pressured NASA to release its photos of the Earth as seen from space. Inspired by this, he published the Whole Earth Catalog in California, a magazine that Steve Jobs later described as “Google’s analog precursor.” This publication included tips for commune founders and young entrepreneurs, articles on the development of computer technology, neo-leftist philosophy, libertarian critiques of the state, and discussions on topics like cybernetics and futuristic utopias. The magazine served as a bridge between neo-leftists, hippies, computer scientists, and tech entrepreneurs.

Silicon Valley became a magnet for libertarians, many of whom would later become active in Donald Trump’s orbit. Consider figures like Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, and John Perry Barlow (who also wrote songs for the band The Grateful Dead). Even ex-hippie and Apple co-founder Steve Jobs (who initially sold apples on a California commune) was known for libertarian views, such as wanting to abolish the public school system in favor of state-funded vouchers for private schools. Libertarians, in turn, wrote books comparing famous tech entrepreneurs like Bill Gates to Ayn Rand’s character John Galt.

A fundamental idea of the “Californian ideology” is the vision of computers and the internet as tools capable of upending existing relationships and dismantling political systems. (This foreshadowed ideas like Nick Land’s accelerationism.) Notably, this vision explicitly entertained the idea that the hegemony of the U.S. and liberal democracy could be destroyed, and that this might even be positive — even if it also led to the strengthening of fascism or other forms of governance. Projects like Silk Road and cryptocurrencies, which are also used by countries like North Korea and Iran to circumvent sanctions, align with this ethos.

Big Tech's turn away from libertarianism

Today, Big Tech companies like Google are known not for championing freedom but for embodying censorship and manipulation infrastructures that eerily resemble the S3 Plan from the Metal Gear games. It is worth noting, however, that Silicon Valley has always had a darker side. Companies like Facebook and Google received massive support from U.S. intelligence agencies. Alex Jones was among the first to warn about Big Tech. Therefore, it must be said that the techno-libertarianism of Silicon Valley was deeply hypocritical.

In 2017, a memo by Google employee James Damore revealed that Google had been systematically shifted toward left-liberal ideology through Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Employees with dissenting opinions were systematically driven out through bullying, false accusations, and other intrigues. Ideologically aligned individuals used nepotism to bring like-minded people into the company, prioritizing ideological conformity over productivity and profit. Investigations by Breitbart revealed that similar practices occurred at other companies like Facebook. Pixar employees also used underhanded tactics to seize control of the company.

To combat this woke censorship, Elon Musk purchased Twitter (a move that also caused friction with the European Union). After the acquisition, Musk subjected the workforce to rigorous scrutiny to identify productive employees and dismiss those who had gained their positions through DEI, wokeness, and nepotism. Ultimately, he fired over 6,000 employees — more than 80% of the workforce. This illustrates a broader problem of Liberalism 2.0: the parasitic nature of bureaucratic management.

The Neoreactionary Influence on Silicon Valley

In the orbit of Silicon Valley is Mencius Moldbug (Curtis Yarvin), a personal friend of Peter Thiel and an intellectual influence on Vice President JD Vance. Moldbug is known for advocating the abolition of liberal democracy and a return to traditional feudalism, drawing on libertarian ideas (Hans-Hermann Hoppe) and thinkers like Carl Schmitt. Others, like Michael Anissimov, have linked Moldbug’s ideas to Julius Evola’s integral Traditionalism.

In Germany, I was among the first to write extensively about Moldbug and the Neoreactionary movement (Nr/X). Later, after my initial articles for Eigentümlich Frei, other authors from the magazine, such as Florian Müller, founded the journal Krautzone. This journal, the only neoreactionary magazine in the world, has (half-jokingly) committed itself to saving the Transrapid and, by extension, to rescuing the “lost future.”

How Should we best approach the lost future?

How should we assess the situation? Advocates of the Fourth Political Theory, who are often followers of Heidegger, tend to be critical of technology — and rightfully so. Considering the connection between Elon Musk and José Delgado, should we really follow a man who might bring us sci-fi technologies like monorails and household robots but simultaneously fund research that could transform humanity into a herd of uniform techno-zombies? Caution is warranted here.

Guillaume Faye’s concept of Archeofuturism sounded intriguing, but his book also contains extremely questionable ideas, such as the creation of genetically modified slave races.

On the other hand, Alexander Dugin recommends potentially dangerous technologies like nuclear power in his books for a future Eurasian empire. Yet Faye’s term “Archeofuturism” was a “marketing masterpiece” that inspires dreams and is easy to understand. Moreover, Elon Musk is emerging as Trump’s “best man,” which builds trust.

Perhaps we should approach this from a fundamentally Traditionalist perspective — emphasizing tradition rather than technological enthusiasm. Archeofuturism and technological ideas could be framed as expressions of tradition. For example, Steve Jobs was a practicing Buddhist who integrated Buddhist principles into Apple products. Jack Parsons, who contributed to NASA’s development, was a Thelemite, and Robert Heinlein was influenced by Thelema. Arthur Conan Doyle was a member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. H. P. Lovecraft was familiar with esotericism and came from a Freemason family. John Carter of Mars, like Alice in Wonderland, is essentially a theosophical story. The noble, wise race of the Arisians in the Lensman series references theosophical ideas, as is evident in their name. Star Trek expresses Posadism, the leftist counterpart to figures like Savitri Devi and Miguel Serrano. The Vulcans in Star Trek are essentially Taoists or Buddhists in space, akin to the Jedi in Star Wars. Dune is a story about Islamic civilization and the Mahdi. And so on.

Perhaps this could be an approach to dealing with such lost futures.

In some sense, proponents of the Fourth Political Theory are already working to salvage lost futures. According to Mark Fisher, this does not just involve sci-fi concepts but also ideologies like communism, which have been “lost.” The Fourth Political Theory collects useful aspects of peripheral elements from the three modern political theories — such as Traditionalism, Herman Wirth’s theories, elements of communism, and the Austrian school of economics. By doing so, we have long been reviving parts of political concepts that became lost futures, countering the liberal “end of history” in capitalist realism and enabling an alternative future.

A Task for the Fourth Political theory: Reviving Lost futures

One critical task for the Fourth Political Theory, particularly regarding design and aesthetics, is to analyze and identify commonalities in many lost futures and understand why modernity failed to develop in those directions. Often, this is surprisingly straightforward. When examining images of lost futures — whether from the West, North Korea, or Disney’s Tomorrowland — a fundamental contradiction with modernity becomes apparent.

A never built Design of a hotel in North korea

According to René Guénon, the defining principle of modernity is the “reign of quantity.” This essentially means reducing everything to a small number of simple basic elements and endlessly repeating these to achieve maximum standardization. This explains why we do not live in buildings with round, flowing forms like those in Disney’s Tomorrowland parks but instead in ugly concrete cubes erected by modern architects everywhere. Modernity seeks inhuman standardization, sweeping away both traditional architecture and humanity’s dreams of a future like Star Trek’s Federation.

Learning from Lost Aesthetics

This critique could also extend to architects and designers who were defeated by dominant German technofunctionalism, epitomized by the “form follows function” ethos. Figures like Antonio Gaudí or the Memphis Group offer alternative visions that modernity sidelined. These alternative aesthetics might hold the key to reclaiming the dreams and ambitions of the lost future

Functionalism is also a central aspect of modern fashion (partly influenced by designers like Coco Chanel and her “little black dress”). There are some youth cultures that vehemently oppose this concept of “form follows function” and, in doing so, revive traditional fashion. Take, for example, Japanese Gothic Lolita fashion, which is certainly worth a closer look.

Complete Text available at arktos publishing:

[stemmmm]

more people gotta try this shit where bill has not improved and will not change but he's just chilling so its fine probably. its great

[clumsypuppy]

this has been plaguing my mind for days

[egophiliac]

still rolling around on the ground over the contrast between Jack and Mal. it's so...🤌🤌🤌

[zeropro]

How do you think Skywarp and Thundercracker would react to Skyfire?

[okartichoke]

(one is canon version and one is canon TO ME version)

[qvert]

[shouyuus]

18+, vi-shaped brainrot, mdni

consider college roommate!vi who is the star of the rugby team and just such a fucking jock about it, spends hours at the gym, has pre and post workout drinks and never closes her door when she's blasting rock music, leaves pink hair dye on the bathroom counter, stains the tub when she gets drunk and tries to redo her roots, calls you everything but your name -- sweetcheeks, dollface, cupcake, princess -- isn't shy about her hookups, doesn't even bother to apologize the mornings after another pretty cheerleader scampers out of her room, shrugs and winks when you come out of the bathroom with a tiny thong dangling off your finger that's clearly not either of yours.

college roommate!vi who does kickboxing on the weekends and teaches a kid's course at the local gym. the first time you go there to drop something of her's off as a favor, you can't help but stare at the way she laughs and chases the kids around, so gentle with her movements, so careful, guiding their punches, correcting their forms. and the kids love her -- it's so easy to see, the stars in their eyes, the color high in their cheeks, the way the girls cluster around her legs and the boys are constantly vying for her approval, how she tries her best to divide up her attention equally between all of them.

college roommate!vi who goes real quiet the first time you laugh in her presence, a real laugh, not one of those ha-ha ones you snipe at her when she's trying to get a rise out of you, or teasing you about spending all your time in the library, but one that shakes your shoulders and makes your whole face light up. who has to blink when you cock your head and ask if she's okay bc she was so busy staring at you, wondering about the weird thumping in her chest, the tightness in her throat.

college roommate!vi who's there for you when you're stressed about your dissertation, and she knew you were smart, but listening to you rant about it at 3am in the morning, she's starting to realize that... you're kind of a genius. to be so young and already doing a doctorate in mechanical engineering, and the things you're trying to do -- they could conceivably change the world one day. who freezes when you let your head drop onto her shoulder with a heavy sigh, telling her that you don't know what to do.

"you'll figure it out, cupcake. with a brain like yours? you always do."

college roommate!vi who realizes way too late that she's kinda got it bad for you, bc since when did she start getting used to the sight of you wearing one of her gym shirts in the mornings, making scrambled eggs, rolling your eyes when she yawns her way into the tiny kitchen, leaning an arm against the fridge as she looks you over before asking what's for breakfast. who's gotten so used to falling asleep to the soft clatter of your computer keys that when you leave to visit your family for a weekend, she tosses and turns and can't figure out why it's impossible for her to get to sleep, wanders into sliver of space you guys have crammed a couch and tv into to call a living room, slumping down there to stare at the ceiling, only to feel her fingers graze against something on the ground, who tugs out the thing from under the couch only to find herself staring at one of your bunched up socks with the goofy cartoon cats pattern, and she remembers (suddenly) finding you tearing your room apart the week before trying to look for it because it's your favorite pair of socks.

she finds herself chuckling, letting the sock fall again, but the tightness in her throat doesn't recede, and invisible fingers clench in her gut as she lets her eyes fall shut.

"well... fuck."

college roommate!vi who doesn't know how to act when you get back from your weekend away, when you throw yourself into her arms, your skin still smelling of the crisp fall air and something warm, and spicy -- it reminds her of the holiday market you dragged her to last year, the cinnamon and spiced apples, the hot, mulled wine, the way it burned all the way down when she took the first sip, the way it worked the most darling flush into your cheeks above your pink knit scarf.

"i've got a present for you!" you say, when you finally extricate yourself from her gasp, your arms still around her shoulders, her hands still settled around your waist.

"y-yeah? you didn't have to do that, sweetcheeks --"

"yeah, but i saw this in a store window and -- well i just... it reminded me of you," you say, pulling back to dig something out of your travel bag, and it takes everything in vi not to tug you back into her chest. so instead, she settles for knitting her arms across her front and coughing to hide the fact that her throat's just tightened over itself at your words. you? seeing something and thinking of her? gods, she was so far gone.

"here," you say, pulling a small black box out and offering it to her on the palm of your hand.

vi stares, before reaching out to take it, her eyes flickering up towards your face, only to catch you chewing on your bottom lip in a way that makes her mind frizzle out at the edges. she refocuses her attention on the box -- opening it, she finds a tiny little gemstone, set on a thin golden chain --

"oh..." she breathes, tugging out up to let the gem dangle from between her fingers.

"it -- it's an alexandrite stone," you say, your voice a bit reedy, but you push on as vi continues to stare, "it's uhm -- one of the rarest gemstones in nature, but the cool thing is it changes colors depending on what kind of light it's under --" you reach up to grasp her wrist, her lungs seizing at the contact as you tug her into the incandescent light of the kitchen. "see? it was light blue a second ago, right? and now it's --"

"violet," vi says, her voice soft and disbelieving.

you quickly let go of her wrist, pursing your lips and wrapping your arms around yourself, looking anywhere but at her face.

"yeah -- i just --" your shoulders shrug up as she stares at you, her sky-light eyes wide, "it... it reminded me of... you."

college roommate!vi who, ever since the "necklace incident" (as the rest of the rugby team likes to call it), hasn't really been the same. she's put on the necklace and not taken it off for even a second since the day you gave it to her, but now she doesn't really know how to act around you -- bc did you actually like her? i mean, the necklace is... a pretty big thing to just give someone, but what if you were just giving it to her as a friend? as a roommate? she agonizes over it to the point that the rest of the team are so, so sick of hearing about it, they lovingly tell her to just fuck her and get it over with already. but vi insists that she can't -- it's different with you.

college roommate!vi who's stunned speechless when she gets home to find you staring at your computer, your expression blank. and at first, she thinks something's horribly wrong, but then you're slamming into her, squealing about how you've done it -- your thesis defense went well, that you're a doctor now -- and she's picking you up, spinning you around, buoyed up by the effervescence of your happiness, pressing a kiss to your cheek --

"oh my god, congrats princess! i knew it! i always knew you could do it!"

"thanks -- god, i just -- i've wanted it for so long i... i don't know what to do with myself now that i've got it, y'know?" you say, still suspended in vi's arms, your feet lifted off the ground. it takes a moment before you both seem to realize the position you're in, and vi clears her throat as she lets you down, you looking away, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the heat gathering there.

after a brief pause though, vi chuckles, reaching out to slip a finger beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards her's.

"c'mon, put on one of those pretty dresses of yours. we're going out."

"out?"

"yeah. to celebrate."

you blink as vi pulls her hand away.

"but it's like... 4:30 on a tuesday."

vi cocks an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at her lips, "yes, and? c'mon cupcake --" her eyes catch yours and instead of looking away, she holds it this time, something flickering behind their powder-blue depths that makes your skin prickle with heat, "i'll show you a good time."

college roommate!vi who takes you to one of her favorite clubs, tugging you through the crowd, the jostling bodies, holding your hand in her's, trying really hard not to think too much about it (or the fucking insane little black and pink miniskirt you put on), telling herself that it's just to make sure she doesn't lose you in the crowd, grinning when someone knocks you into her chest, and she finds her arm wrapped around your waist, fingers scrunching the material of your skirt, your palms splayed on her chest.

she buys the both of you a round of shots, watching with a hitched breath as your tongue flickers out to lick the salt daubed on your wrist, the way your eyes squeeze shut when you take the shot and your lips wrap around the lime slice, tries to ignore the twist in her gut like a turning blade, the way her whole body flushes with heat, the dull ache caught between her legs when you wipe your lips, your eyes bright and a little blown out, your cheeks flushed with color as you giggle and lace your hands with hers again --

"come on! i wanna dance!"

college roommate!vi who is just drunk enough to let herself dance with you, to let herself lean in to the way you're twisting your body, fingers in your hair, your eyes closed, an indulgent smile on your lips, who let's herself imagine (just for a second), pulling you in to kiss you, how soft your lips might feel on hers, how silken your skin might be beneath her hands, who tries not to groan when you lean in closer, link your arms behind her neck, press your whole body against her's, who grips your hips just a little too tight, grinds you against her, sees the way you gasp, your eyelids fluttering as you eyes glaze out --

college roommate!vi who can't help how she groans at the sight, tugs you in by the back of your neck to mash her lips to yours, crushing you to her as she kisses you (finally, finally) and you let yourself he kissed -- your fingers tangle in her choppy pink hair, and she swears you make this sweet, mind-bending whimpering noise in the back of your throat that drives her up the wall and right over it --

but when she pulls back, she sees the look on your face -- shocked and little confused, but you're drunk, and she doesn't wanna do this with you -- at least, not like this.

college roommate!vi who pulls away, only to have you follow her all the way out the club, into this small dark alley, her shaking her head, feeling a strange, saltwater prickle at the back of her throat as she says --

"shit -- sorry. i didn't mean to -- i just -- you were just so -- and i -- fuck, i didn't --"

"vi -- vi -- no, violet, listen to me --"

it's her full name on your lips that makes her pause, makes her turn to find you walking towards her. your lipstick is smeared, your hair a waterfall mess around your shoulders as you corner her against the rough brick of the club's exterior. faintly, she can still feel the pulse of music reverberating from inside the club, but out here, the air is damp and cold and quiet.

"i -- i'm sorry i kissed you," she says, her voice cracking over the syllables. she bites her lips as you frown up at her, your eyes searching her's before you let out a soft sigh and a scoff.

"well. i'm sorry you feel that way. cause..." you take half a step back, your arms curling around yourself before you glance back at her with a hard, determined light to your eyes as you press back into her space, your cheeks bright with color.

"i was really kinda hoping you'd do it again."

vi's breath punches out of her chest; it takes a few seconds of sputtering before she gathers herself enough to speak.

"wait -- what? you..."

you crinkle your nose, rolling your eyes, "i -- i thought i was making it obvious -- i mean, with the whole necklace thing -- it doesn't take a genius to figure how i feel about --"

you squeak as she pins you against the opposite wall, her lips seeking yours out, her fingers rucking up the material of your top, making you hiccup as they tease under the wire-rim of your bra.

college roommate!vi who can barely control herself when you sink your fingers into her hair, tugging lightly as you gasp out a breath, her lips tracking fire along the side of your neck, intent on making you whimper again, just the way she likes, grazing her teeth along your collarbone even as you jerk at her hair --

"vi -- fuck -- vi, not here --" you swallow around the burgeoning desire, and when you glance down to find her looking up at you, her eyes so dark they're almost black, you fight back a groan, cup your palms around her cheeks and pull her up for a long kiss.

"let's --" you suck in a breath even as vi whines at the loss your lips, "let's go home --"

"holy fuck," vi swears, somehow managing to pull herself back just far enough to taste the misty night air. she stares at you, your chest heaving, a daisy-chain of hickeys blossoming along the long expanse of your neck, your makeup good and smeared, your hair a mess, your eyes bright and so full of love as they flicker over her face.

vi smiles, helpless to the loud, uncertain drumming of her heart as she says, "y-yeah -- let's get you home, princess."

college roommate!vi who barely waits for the elevator door to close in your building before she's got you shoved up against the wall, hoisting you up, her fingers seeking out the softness of your skin, tugging up your shirt, her other hand dipping into the waistband of your skirt, her mouth open and hungry as she kisses your neck, bites down at the junction of your shoulder just to hear you moan.

college roommate!vi who's way too good at undoing your bra with one hand the second you get back to your apartment (if you were more coherent, you might've thought it hot), the door slamming closed, the pair of you toppling onto the room, breathy laughs and panting whines as she hoists you into her arms and carries you to your bedroom, laying you down so gently, kissing up your stomach till you're whimpering, your own hands pulling your top off your body, leaving you in an undone-bra and a miniskirt, your cheeks flushed. you push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as vi peaks up at you from between your legs, shooting you a wink before she's tugging down your skirt and panties all in one, an eyebrow ticking up at the lil lacey thing you had on beneath the skirt all along.

"all this for me, pretty?"

you press your lips, eyes cutting away as she looks between the bra dangling off your shoulders and the panties caught round your ankles. her lashes flutter.

"oh, a matching set," she cocks her head, running her palms up your thighs, pinning them open again as you try to press them closed, feeling suddenly much too seen (bc you'd be straight up lying if you hadn't put it on in the vague hope that the night might evolve into something like this).

she clicks her tongue, shaking her head with a cocky, shit-eating grin that makes your heart skitter in your chest. her drops a light kiss to your inner thigh, savoring in the way you whine again.

"nope, keep 'em open princess."

college roommate!vi who takes her time with you, bc rly she's been waiting way too long for this, has imagined it one too many times, but nothing can compare to the way your hips jerk up against her mouth, the way your fingers tighten in her hair every time she licks up the seam of your cunt, the way your breath catches on her name over and over again, like you can't quite get the word out even though it's just a single syllable. she groans against you, too lost in the taste of you to care about what a mess she must look like, with her tongue fucking into your desperate hole, her nose nudging your clit, her fingers digging crescent moon marks into your hipbones.

she's sure that if this were an old-fashioned cartoon, there'd be big, balloon hearts popping out of her eyes. she can't get enough of you like this -- moaning her name, your legs on either side of her face, your skin littered with the remnants of her. she has the eye-rolling thought of you the next morning, of how all these marks will still be there to remind you of her every single time you see one of them.

college roommate!vi who doesn't expect you to flip over after she's literally eaten you out seven ways to sunday, to tug her in for a soft kiss (though she really does like pressing your own taste back into your mouth with her tongue), before your fingers are inching down the length of her body to tease at her hips, trailing circles down the lines of her abs, toying with the thin line of hair that leads into her black boxer briefs.

"what are you --"

you shoot her a look that has her mouth going dry.

"what? didn't think i can give as good as i get?"

college roommate!vi who's literally going to lose her mind with the way you're fingers (at first sight so thin and delicate, but gods are they stronger than they look) are pressing into her, curling up with the kind of precision usually only associated with doctors, and then a voice in the back of her head reminds her -- oh, right, you are a doctor now. but logical thought dies after that, bc you've somehow worked your way between her legs and are looking up at her with those big dark eyes of yours, smiling sunshine bright before you drop a kitten-lick against her clit and she's twitching, keening as she cums all over your fingers.

"jesus fuckin' christ, doll -- is that what you're learning in those engineering classes?"

she's breathless, cheeks flushed, and honestly just a little embarrassed at how quickly she came, but she has to bite back another groan as she watches you lick your fingers clean, grinning sweetly up at her as if you didn't just get her off in record time.

"no, but i did do my dissertation on human-based robotics, which included a lot of late nights memorizing anatomical models so..."

vi pulls you in for a kiss, laughing against your lips.

"you're amazing, y'know that?"

college roommate!vi who can't really believe how much she's lucked out, sharing an apartment with her girlfriend, who literally cannot shut up about you, but the rugby team all agree that they'd rather have this than the months of endless pining. who brags about her genius gf to anyone who'll listen, and looks for you in the stands of all her practice matches when you can make it, who kisses you in front of everyone even when you make a show of trying to wiggle away bc she's sweaty (you don't really care).

who loves telling the story of how you guys met bc she still can't quite believe it herself, and the story always starts with --

"well, actually -- we started off as roommates."

[chamerionwrites]

Honestly this gets at my chiefest complaint/frustration/discomfort with fandom as a whole. Which is: in their rush to defend the artistic merit of fanworks I think a ton of people have really valorized transformation and remixing and reinterpretation in and of themselves, when imo those are all quite neutral actions. When done well, they can expand and build upon and subvert meaning in really powerful and thought-provoking (and fun!) ways. When done poorly, they are just as likely to flatten and oversimplify and decontextualize and completely erase meaning. The simple act of changing something does not imbue the choice to do so with creative validity. It is entirely possible for a cover song to be bad (or just boring!). To exactly the same degree that it is possible to transform a pretty shallow and straightforward work into something deeper and more nuanced and subversive, is possible to transform a work into a vastly shallower and less interesting shadow of itself. As with nearly everything in art, it's all about the execution!

But the second you voice this position (which should honestly be a pretty uncontroversial one imo), you get people shrieking at you about being gatekeep-y and pretentious and betraying the sacred fandom etiquette of Don't-Like-Don't-Read.

And like...listen. I was not raised in a barn. I am 150% capable of quietly back-buttoning out of a fanfic I think is bad or boring - which is exactly what I do when I encounter them - and I am obviously not advocating for stupid ships wars or any kind of harassment or leaving hatemail in people's AO3 inboxes. (Which some people will also accuse you of the second you say anything less than lavishly positive about fandom, in true piss-on-the-poor fashion.) Literally all I am saying is that you can't have your cake and eat it too - that if fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) have artistic merit then fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) are fair game for artistic critique. Which means, in practice, that I can go on my own blog and make a post exactly like this one - critiquing broad trends, or stating that some interpretations are bad actually, or pointing out that subverting or talking back to or reading against the grain of canon is very different from simply ignoring it, or saying "fandom's culture of collage/remix/fuck-canon-I-do-what-I-want can lend itself to to really creative and interesting art but also to a lot of really bland homogenized cut-n-paste art, not to mention some pretty troubling decontextualization." And that if you feel this rains on your personal parade, you are then free to DLDR by back-buttoning out of my blog and/or blocking me so you never have to see my hot takes again, rather than clamoring in my notes about how I should let people enjoy things.

[artielu]

Listen up.

The current Supreme Court is a 6-3 conservative majority.

Justice Thomas, that corrupt fascist fucker, is 75.

Justice Alito, that biased fascist fucker, is 74.

Each is married to a fascist ultra right wing woman. Ginny Thomas was actively involved in Trump's efforts to overturn the 2020 election. Martha Ann Alito is the alleged source of the ultra right wing flags on the Alito homes.

If Trump is elected in 2024, Thomas and Alito will retire, just like Kennedy did in 2018. Trump will get to appoint two more justices in their 50s.

Like sexual assaulter and liar Kavanaugh. Or handmaid's tale Coney Barrett. And the conservative majority will be on lock for thirty years. Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Coney Barrett are in their 50s.

Add two more ultraconservative justices in their 50s and you have a five seat conservative majority for 30 years if they live natural lifetimes.

If Trump is elected in 2024, we've not only lost the Court for at least a decade (now) but another thirty years.

What other civil rights would you like to lose? Because YOU WILL. We ALL will.

Can we fucking not? CAN WE FUCKING NOT?

Vote for Biden.

Vote for Democrats for the Senate.

[sleepysebris]

:) 🖤

@mlsecretsanta gift for @thequeenofspace! happy belated holidays and apologies for the delay, had a serious family emergency followed by sickness! I had so much fun making this though, was so excited to finally draw these two 🖤 hope you enjoy!!!

[iceycloversart]

it's babies

[hinamie]

you should draw kuna more

guy shrugging emoji

[sableeira]

I’m not immune to studying the Arcane style by applying it to the characters haunting my brain rn so here is everyone’s favorite Reverend Daughter 🫶