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#imagined communities

protoslacker · 2 years

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At what point do all the ideas humans have about what is just and righteous stop and life itself takes over? And when do we finally choose to nurture, shelter, and grow the life around us rather than destroy everything at hand for someone else’s imagining?

Rhyd Wildermuth in his Subtack From The Forest of Arduinna. Human Shields and Imagined Communities

At what point do we just live?

I came to this essay by way of a thoughtful post by Dave Pollard: Our Unique Human Capacity for Hatred.

The Amnesty Internatioal report referenced by Wildermouth is Ukraine: Ukrainian fighting tactics endanger civilians.

#war #violence #imagined communities #ukraine

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crimsonclad · 1 year

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I saw a bumper sticker and thought “is that seductive Daffy Duck” and then when I looked closer I realized it was actually a fishing bumper sticker but also. also it is still very much seductive Daffy Duck???? somehow????????

#imagine selling this to the fishing community without disclosing the hidden seductive daffy embedded within #it is about ethics in fishing-enthusiast merchandising

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spookyabuki · 4 months

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In an anthropological spirit, then, I propose the following definition of the nation: it is an imagined political community – and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign. It is imagined because the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion.

—Benedict Anderson, from Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism

#literature #quotes #academic writing #benedict anderson #imagined communities #nationalism

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queeranarchism · 3 months

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If people make cutesy posts about growing food and herb spirals and composting but never talk about stuff like preventing and getting rid of rats in a garden, I get this suspision that they either haven't actually gardened much or they're more interested in presenting an aesthetically pleasing image than in actually preparing people to deal with a garden.

#Like the unrealistic gun hoarding bunker doomsday preppers of gardening #but instead of imagining a world without rules and community they imagine a world without rats and mold and plant virusses #Which is a better worldview than those preppers but not a more realistic one.

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cinderellahoneymoon · 5 months

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im being so fucking for real and i need you guys to boost and reblog this you nonblack selfshippers have got to stop using "simp." you have to. its african american vernacular english (aave) which in colloquial terms means its not for you to use. in a space already hostile towards shippers of color, youre just making it more inhospitable to black selfshippers by appropriating our language. say youre crushing. say youre obsessed. say youre head over heels, say youre a sucker, say youre infatuated, just stop saying simp. for the love of god

{nonblack shippers [even other shippers of color] i do NOT want to hear your opinion on this post or hear about how you "didnt know" or are "changing it right now." just be an ally and LISTEN instead of needing to add your piece.}

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rxmye · 8 days

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" 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 , 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 ? "

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌 — ruin him or even break him, and yet still his thoughts will be solely devoted to you . .

nsfw / sixteen + / gender neutral reader / yandere content / oc x reader / knife play (reader cuts into his skin, he enjoys it) / blood play / submissive yandere / dominant reader / slight bondage / worshipping(?) / dacryphilia / marking (reader carves their name into him) / begging (he's really noisey tbh)

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: gotta finish the character info's before these fics guys . . anyways meet Elliot Bourne . .

The blade dipped into Elliot's skin, cutting the soft flesh, leaving a scar in it's wake, blood dripping from his torso, while his screams were muffled by the rag in his mouth. Drool escaping the corners of his mouth, while tears escaped his reddened eyes as you carved into his soft supple flesh.

Muffled whimpers for more, while his body rejected your touch, squirming at the feeling of your nails digging into his thigh, holding him still. He struggled against the binds, that trapped his hands—bruises forming from the rough feeling of the ropes that held him down—wanting nothing more than to touch your radiance in front of him, to feel the divine being in front of him doing whatever they desired to his worthless being.

His mind was rotten, filled with only thoughts of you, your touch, the filth that escaped you mouth—the way the knife felt on his skin—the way your nails dug deep enough to draw blood, leaving beautiful scars for him to cherish and preserve.

His throat felt raw, all the moisture dried as his body involuntarily buckled towards you, his eyes rolling back as he felt your fingers glide over the newly carved piece of art you've left on his skin—he grew more and more light headed as the blood escaped the fresh wound.

The rag fell from his mouth, tears escaping his eyes as he starred at you half lidded, he choked out plethora of i'm sorry's and thank you's—he wasn't exactly sure what he was sorry for—yet he knew he had to please you somehow, after you gave him this delightful gift.

He felt his stomach churn, a delightful feeling, as he watched you lick the blood off from your fingers, an involuntary moan escaped his mouth—he wanted to turn away—yet he couldn't, you were just so perfect, pristine, superior . .

He watched you smile, leaning down into the crook of his neck, before you sank your teeth into him—the pain was delightful—he sucked in his breath, his head leaning back, feeling even more light headed than before, he'd be fine with dying right now . . at your hands.

Elliot blinks slowly, finally waking up . . his body was sore, aching all over . . he was still in the place where you had last left him—untied thankfully—he leaned back, sighing, trying to muscle up some strength before he got up—he looked down at the wound on his torso, your name carved deeply into his skin, claiming him whole . . and despite his weak state, he couldn't help but giggle, blushing as he traced the wound with his fingers.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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running-with-kn1ves · 3 days

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Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out.

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache.

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own.

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out.

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you.

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse.

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do.

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.”

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath.

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back.

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble.

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love.

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.”

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.”

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin.

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight.

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.”

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.”

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades.

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.”

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing.

Antoine shook your shoulders.

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh.

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers.

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back.

“O-okay.. I guess..”

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best?

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh.

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks.

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides.

“Yeah… feels a lot better..”

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual.

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of.

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished.

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.”

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again.

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client.

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while.

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did.

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--”

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!”

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though.

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door.

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out?

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere.

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got.

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear.

No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally?

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower.

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you.

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me-writes-prompts · 2 months

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-:“Can we please just talk?” Post argument make-up talk prompts:-

(You know who needs this? YOU KNOW WHO NEEDS THIS?! AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY! *sobs*)

By @me-writes-prompts

"Look, I'm really sorry for shouting at you. I just...I just lost control. But it wasn't your fault, it was me. Please forgive me?"

"We really shouldn't have fought over a piece of dumpling, don't you think so?" "Yeah, that was rather a vague topic to argue over." (Vmin, anyone?)

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't in the right mind and vent it out on you."

"Are you still mad at me? I mean, it's okay if you are. I'm mad at myself, too."

"Can we talk?" "Yeah, yeah. Let's do that."

"I didn't mean to say you're not enough, okay? Because you are, but I am not. I am not enough to appreciate a person like you."

"I really wasn't thinking straight, now was I? I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to put up with my shit. I'll be better for you."

"Are you calm now?" "Yeah, sorry. Needed to take a time out."

Kissing as apologizing but then also expressing it in words.

Angry cuddles, because they are cold. Definitely not because they want the warmth their partner provides.

"That was a really silly argument we had last night, right?" “Hmm, yet we couldn’t stop the topic.” They try to joke.

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random-selfship-imagines · 4 months

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Yes, I'm taken (I'm dating a fictional character inside my head)

#self ship #self shipping #romantic f/o #familial f/o #self ship community #f/o imagines #self ship meme #f/o community #platonic f/o #fictional crush

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seaside-shipping · 29 days

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shout out to the self-shippers whose f/o is the most unpopular character in their source.

shout out to the self-shippers whose f/o is a tumblr sexyman/tumblr sexyman archetype.

shout out to the self-shippers whose f/o is seen as only a “meme” or “cringe.”

shout out to the self-shippers who give their f/o a textbook’s worth of lore because canon failed them.

shout out to the self-shippers who wish the fandom took their f/o more seriously.

shout out to the self-shippers with f/os so obscure, they don’t even have a fandom.

y’all are the self-shipping community’s strongest soldiers. keep loving! 💗

#seaside makes waves #self ship #self shipping #self ship community #self ship positivity #f/o community #imagine your f/o #f/o imagines

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