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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

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It’s not about diversity, equity, or inclusion. It is about arrogating power to a movement that threatens not just Jews—but America itself.

By: Bari Weiss

Published: Nov 8, 2023

Twenty years ago, when I was a college student, I started writing about a then-nameless, niche ideology that seemed to contradict everything I had been taught since I was a child.

It is possible I would not have perceived the nature of this ideology—or rather, I would have been able to avoid seeing its true nature—had I not been a Jew. But I was. I am. And in noticing the way I had been written out of the equation, I started to notice that it wasn’t just me, but that the whole system rested on an illusion.

What I saw was a worldview that replaced basic ideas of good and evil with a new rubric: the powerless (good) and the powerful (bad). It replaced lots of things. Colorblindness with race-obsession. Ideas with identity. Debate with denunciation. Persuasion with public shaming. The rule of law with the fury of the mob.

People were to be given authority in this new order not in recognition of their gifts, hard work, accomplishments, or contributions to society, but in inverse proportion to the disadvantages their group had suffered, as defined by radical ideologues. According to them, as Jamie Kirchick concisely put it in these pages: “Muslim > gay, Black > female, and everybody > the Jews.”

I was an undergraduate back then, but you didn’t need a Ph.D. to see where this could go. And so I watched, in horror, sounding alarms as loudly as I could. I was told by most Jewish leaders that, yes, it wasn’t great, but not to be so hysterical. Campuses were always hotbeds of radicalism, they said. This ideology, they promised, would surely dissipate as young people made their way in the world.

It did not.

Over the past two decades, I saw this inverting worldview swallow all of the crucial sense-making institutions of American life. It started with the universities. Then it moved on to cultural institutions—including some I knew well, like The New York Times—as well as every major museum, philanthropy, and media company. Then on to our medical schools and our law schools. It’s taken root at nearly every major corporation. It’s inside our high schools and even our elementary schools. The takeover is so comprehensive that it’s now almost hard to notice it—because it is everywhere.

Including in the Jewish community.

Some of the most important Jewish communal organizations transformed themselves in order to prop up this ideology. Or at the very least, they contorted themselves to signal that they could be good allies in the fight for equal rights—even as those rights are no longer presumed inalienable or equal, and are handed out rather than protected.

For Jews, there are obvious and glaring dangers in a worldview that measures fairness by equality of outcome rather than opportunity. If underrepresentation is the inevitable outcome of systemic bias, then overrepresentation—and Jews are 2% of the American population—suggests not talent or hard work, but unearned privilege. This conspiratorial conclusion is not that far removed from the hateful portrait of a small group of Jews divvying up the ill-gotten spoils of an exploited world.

It isn’t only Jews who suffer from the suggestion that merit and excellence are dirty words. It is strivers of every race, ethnicity, and class. That is why Asian American success, for example, is suspicious. The percentages are off. The scores are too high. From whom did you steal all that success?

Of course this new ideology doesn’t come right out and say all that. It doesn’t even like to be named. Some call it wokeness or anti-racism or progressivism or safetyism or critical social justice or identity-Marxism. But whatever term you use, what’s clear is that it has gained power in a conceptual instrument called “diversity, equity and inclusion,” or DEI.

In theory, all three of these words represent noble causes. They are in fact all causes to which American Jews in particular have long been devoted, both individually and collectively. But in reality, these words are now metaphors for an ideological movement bent on recategorizing every American not as an individual, but as an avatar of an identity group, his or her behavior prejudged accordingly, setting all of us up in a kind of zero-sum game.

We have been seeing for several years now the damage this ideology has done: DEI, and its cadres of enforcers, undermine the central missions of the institutions that adopt it. But nothing has made the dangers of DEI more clear than what’s happening these days on our college campuses—the places where our future leaders are nurtured.

It is there that professors are compelled to pledge fidelity to DEI in order to get hired, promoted, or tenured. (For more on this, please read John Sailer’s Free Press piece: "How DEI Is Supplanting Truth as the Mission of American Universities.”) And it is there that the hideousness of this worldview has been on full display over the past few weeks: We see students and professors, immersed not in facts, knowledge, and history, but in a dehumanizing ideology that has led them to celebrate or justify terrorism.

Jews, who understand that being made in the image of God bestows inviolate sanctity on every human life, must not stand by as that principle, so central to the promise of this country and its hard won freedoms, is erased.

What we must do is reverse this.

The answer is not for the Jewish community to plead its cause before the intersectional coalition, or beg for a higher ranking in the new ladder of victimhood. That is a losing strategy—not just for Jewish dignity, but for the values we hold as Jews and as Americans.

The Jewish commitment to justice—and the American Jewish community’s powerful and historic opposition to racism—is a source of tremendous pride. That should never waver. Nor should our commitment to stand by our friends, especially when they need our support as we now need theirs.

But “DEI” is not about the words it uses as camouflage. DEI is about arrogating power.

And the movement that is gathering all this power does not like America or liberalism. It does not believe that America is a good country—at least no better than China or Iran. It calls itself progressive, but it does not believe in progress; it is explicitly anti-growth. It claims to promote “equity,” but its answer to the challenge of teaching math or reading to disadvantaged children is to eliminate math and reading tests. It demonizes hard work, merit, family, and the dignity of the individual.

An ideology that pathologizes these fundamental human virtues is one that seeks to undermine what makes America exceptional.

It is time to end DEI for good. No more standing by as people are encouraged to segregate themselves. No more forced declarations that you will prioritize identity over excellence. No more compelled speech. No more going along with little lies for the sake of being polite.

The Jewish people have outlived every single regime and ideology that has sought our elimination. We will persist, one way or another. But DEI is undermining America, and that for which it stands—including the principles that have made it a place of unparalleled opportunity, safety, and freedom for so many. Fighting it is the least we owe this country.

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

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I keep seeing people say "school choice" is Republican code for racism, (not that I'm surprised atp) but what exactly does it mean and how is it racist?

Let's be real, literally everything that Republicans say is code for racism somehow, whether implicit or explicit. In this case, "school choice" refers to the issue of "voucher schools" or "charter schools," which are set up in an area as alternatives to the local public schools and often designed to siphon funding and resources from them. If a student has a "choice" to attend a charter school instead of public school, Republicans argue, blah blah Freedom Is Respected. Clearly we should be funding charter schools instead of public schools! Or at least fund them equally! Etc etc.

Okay, you might say, this sounds... not terrible? We all know that American public schools are often bad, so where does the racism come in? Well, being that these are Republicans, they don't actually want all students to have a "choice." They want to set up a pretext for (white) parents to pull their children out of (mixed-race and/or majority black) public schools, and for funding that would have gone to those schools to go to the charter schools instead. The charter schools also are able to promote "alternative" curriculums, which is an attraction for racist parents who throw shitfits about their children learning non-racist things, because they have no community-elected school board, taxpayer dollars, or general public to answer to. Because they are privately funded, and also designed to market themselves as an "alternative" to public schools, they can then suck up the school funding in an area and have no obligation to teach a general school curriculum.

We all know that yes, American public schools are of wildly varying quality and have many, MANY problems. But the obvious solution is not to set up racially segregated Alternate History charter schools for the children of white-fragility Republicans, it is to, you know, FUND PUBLIC SCHOOLS! Yet because Republicans only want to help themselves under the guise of rhetoric about Freedom And Choice while meaning exactly the opposite, this is a no-go. They don't want to fund public schools that teach majority-black or other non-white or low-income kids, they're opposed to Government Spending of any nature (even on essential or public services), and given their endless whining about what is taught in public schools anyway, they want to just blow it all up and start over in a place where they have much more control over the curriculum and no need to explain or account themselves to anyone. So yes. Racism.™

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #it is all about punishing public schools and creating 'alternate' educational environments where they can control what is taught and how #so uh yes #racism!

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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I do not think that what is going on here can be explained by the people involved having a habit of using "atheist" to refer to everyone who disagrees with them. In particular, I don't think it was a habit when in this context they used "militant atheism".

This seems like an oversimplification (ofc) but my impression from Wikipedia, which cites many sources for its claims:

1) Militant Atheists existed as an organized movement during Stalinist times; these were often explicitly left-wing and anti-religion because religion was associated with counterrevolutionary elements. The Wikipedia article doesn't mention whether any of those militants called themselves "Atheists," though. They might have been proud secular humanists or something instead.

2) Some modern western secular activists may call themselves "atheists."

3) Many secular American activists are at least nominally opposed to religious displays on public property, and some use the term "militant atheism" for such movements even if they aren't partisan communists. These groups tend to focus more on education than harassment -- there isn't much evidence of overly aggressive tactics being employed except maybe in some cases where there has been significant pushback against them.

4) There exist various other organizations whose main goal is pushing back against religious influence in government policy, including lobbying efforts about issues like school prayer laws and same sex marriage. Again, while none of these groups appear to employ bullying methods, some opponents would consider their work militant simply due to the intensity of opposition.

5) Finally, there are no doubt individuals within all these subgroups (and perhaps others?) who express a desire to eliminate religion entirely through whatever means necessary. Most probably don't actually want to kill anyone unless they could get away with it without suffering legal consequences, so most of their talk is bluster meant only to intimidate rather than threaten violence, but still.

So yes, you can claim that "there really wasn't anything resembling the kind of thing you call 'militant atheism'" under conditions #1 - #3, but you cannot legitimately say that these things didn't happen under condition #4 or #5. Even then, we shouldn't expect to find obvious examples of someone saying "death to the unbeliever!" since these subgroups tend to try to avoid doing stuff that gets attention outside of their own circles. But otherwise, "using terminology that insults you personally" is just about the definition of "bullying."

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smokeybrandcompositions · 1 year

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Conservative Clusterf*ck

This situation with Tucker Carlson is insane to see. Like, for him to just selectively edit literally thousands of hours of footage from January 6th, down to the most disingenuous and misrepresented clips available, is just flat out disgusting. Kevin McCarthy has a massive amount of responsibility to bear in this, too. He was the one who gave Tucker the footage in a Fox News exclusive. This sh*t was a calculated attempt to change the entire narrative around what was very obviously a whole ass insurrection, ignited by the former president Donald Trump. Those people who stormed the Capitol were violent, treasonous, MAGA cultists, who sought to overturn our democracy at the behest of their loser, lame duck, wannabe Dictator-King. That happened. That's the reality. People died on that day. To take that national day of tragedy, of embarrassment, and try to twist it into something as benign as an overzealous tour group gone rogue, is f*cking despicable.

Speaking of despicable, what the hell is going on in Florida? Bro, I've never seen such an ardent and blatant effort to absolutely foster a white supremacist ethnostate, not since i learned about Hitler’ mad dash toward his Final Solution! Ron DeSantis is going full Nazi, surrounding himself with what is basically sycophants and Yes Men who won't challenge any of his absolutely anti-Constitutional, anti-American, legislation. Mans is out here burning history books and banning math textbooks over dumb sh*t. He's outlawed Drag Shows and has been on a crusade against Queen people. In his eyes, and in the current laws in the State he governs, being transgender is basically a crime. How is that okay? How are his constitutes agreeing with this wild ass and dangerous discrimination masquerading as public safety? The sh*t going on in Florida right now is wildly concerning but the fact that DeSantis is touting his macabre, regressive, State as the blueprint for what other like-minded municipalities (and a very obvious test run for what he plans to do to the entire Nation if he makes it into the White House), keeps me up at night. This man, who literally refuses to teach kids under his governance a real, objective, US history, devoid of nationalist propaganda and zealous Christian buffoonery, wants to be president of the United States. That sh*t should freeze you cold. But, for a whole third of the country, it doesn't. What the f*ck is going on with Conservatives right now? What the f*ck is going on with the Republicans Party right now? Their entire message is just reactionary, culture war, bullsh*t and it's very much transparently so. These motherf*ckers constantly say the quiet part out loud. They overturned Roe strictly because of religious ideology, disregarding the science and human cost. Like, how much you want to bet that these asshats who deign to claim they know the Word, even know Jesus's real name? It's Yeshua and, if we want to get really into those weeds, it's probably Emmanuel but you never hear about that. Just that abortion is murder and Jesus is against that or whatever. But f*ck that kid once it's out the womb. No Conservative wants to give these kids a solid start at life once they "save" it from the hanger, by giving them universal pre-K or a solid amount of parental leave for their working parents because of bootstraps and misplaced ignorance. I've literally seen a MAGA cultists say they don't want Universal pre-K because that leads to public school and public school is where they teach liberal ideals. Motherf*cker, what?

Bro, I am sitting here watching Marjorie Taylor Greene call for a "National Divorce", which isn't the same as a Secession or Civil War, but that we definitely have different values so State's Rights and all. That's why the Civil War! Not really, it was to economically crippled the South so they would be more amiable to staying within the Union by making their entire Slave driven economy illegal through abolition, but that's what the South teaches their kids the War was about. And now you got a sitting Representative who has a chair on the Homeland Security Committee, calling for a "National Divorce" for the exact same reasons. But it's not a call for Secession. Definitely not that. I got Donny T. out here at one of his many ego-stroking speaking engagements, talking about how he plans to build "Freedom Cities" on Federal land when he gets re-elected, where there will be bonuses to parents who have children. I imagine my black ass is not on that list of viable recipients considering Drumpf is a card-carrying subscriber to the ridiculous Replacement Theory conspiracy. Speaking of kids, several Red States have basically made child labor legal again. Iowa straight up said fourteen year olds need to get back into them mines, which is absurd because the mortality rate of kids in mines back in the day, is literally why we made child labor laws in the first goddamn place! Hell, I watched one of these Daily Wire talking-heads, openly call for the extermination of transpeople at CPAC! Mans got on that stage, got on TV, and said that sh*t directly to the f*cking camera with all of his chest. Motherf*cker has been on a tour of lawsuits claiming people misquoted him. Bro, no, you said that sh*t. It wasn't even a dog whistle. Mans outright called for a Trans Holocaust. Like, the sudden drive to erase drag from existence is problematic on its own, but to openly advocate for the wholesale slaughter of trans people, to feel so comfortable among your peers that something so appalling fell from your mouth and was met with roaring applause, tells you exactly where these "god fearing patriots" really place their faith. And it ain't in Yeshua, I can tell you that for sure.

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smokeybrand · 1 year

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Conservative Clusterf*ck

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thenonconformistcurmudgeon · 1 year

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Its Morning in America

(Theme Music-Roll out the barrels) as TV host runs out onto the stage. (Shouts of unmitigated joy from audience.)

“Hello America. I’m your emcee James Slick and we got a great show for you today. You’re going to get a front row seat to the development of a reality TV program. The studio audience will decide which three ideas will move forward into production.

Behind me you see 7 people in glass enclosed soundproof booths. They are reality show producers and they don’t know why they were well paid to come here. We will open the booths one at a time, and will ask them to give us their best new idea for a reality TV series in 2 minutes or less. We don’t want the other producers to hear ideas so to avoid stealing them, the soundproof booth. Now, we have gathered 100 people randomly selected across the country, 2 per state and brought them to the most authentic city in America, Las Vegas, and after the presentations, they will vote on whether they would watch the proposed TV shows. (Lots of hoots and hollers from the audience). There is also one person from the District of Columbia, they have to stand off to the side and are not allowed to either sit or vote.

Our first producer is Mark (as booth opens). Mark, give us your best pitch for a new reality TV series?”

“Thank you, Jim. I got tons of them. How about this one? Get 5 politicians and 5 media talking heads and ask them to tell the most outrageous lies they can think of. Then get 100 people from the plain’s states stretching from North Dakota to Texas and ask them if they believe the story. Contestants get scored on the percentage who believe the whopper along with a judges score for artistry for performance/handling blowback/ignoring obvious facts. (Lots of excited shouting from the audience).

“OK, that was Mark and the Outrageous lying politicians and media show. Next up is Fifi. Fifi, give us your best pitch for a new reality TV series?”

“Thank you, Jimbo. You know school shootings are pretty common and there has been a push to arm teachers in the schools. What if we arm teachers with 6 shooters and have the unhinged madman come in with his AR-15 and actually see what happens. Yes, there will be some collateral damage but the good god-fearing American people are not appalled enough to do anything about it despite the dead children. Within a few days, the carnage is forgotten. However, right after the shooting, you can film the crying, the hugging, the flowers, hearts, posters up against the school fence and announcements on the funerals. And don’t forget the vigils, with and without candles. Who doesn’t love a good vigil?”. (Standing ovation from the audience).

“That was Fifi and her reality TV show, Thoughts and Prayers. Next up, Chang. Chang, give us your best pitch for a new reality TV series.”

Thank you, Jimmy. You know public executions have been in the news lately. How about we get 10 death row inmates, put them in a coliseum naked with 9 hungry lions. Before they go into the arena, you film a meet and greet with each inmate while they are eating their last meal so the fans can get to know them. I’m sure the fans will have favorites to survive and favs to be killed. Since sports betting is pretty much legal across America, mobile betting will be allowed within the arena and from the comfort of your own home. Sort of a Win, Place, and show on the first 3 to die, specialty bets like the quinella and trifecta on getting the exact order of the first 2 and 3 to die. Of course, betting on who will be the single survivor. The survivor gets to live and play again in the next round of 10. There will also be betting for a last-minute stay from the Supreme Court on any particular inmate. It is a long shot, but, hey the sports book needs to make a buck and the tax money garnered can be used to buy guns for teachers in the schools.” (Lots of excitement in the audience, someone yells, who lets the dogs out”).

“Now we will have to check Chang’s soundproof booth for irregularities but that was Chang and his Public Execution show. Ok, Leticia, give us your best pitch for a new reality TV series?”

Thank you, Jack. You get 10 people with a possible terminal illness who can’t get into see a specialist anytime soon. They have been told it will be at least 8 months before they can be seen. You set up 10 arcade booths with that Claw thing that usually grabs onto a stuffed animal or prize of some kind. This time they have to use the claw to pick up a piece of paper that will give them a quick appointment for the doctor they wish to see and the first one to do so, gets their appointment. The others are out of luck. As a side show, since there is not much action with the claw, you have 10 other people who can’t get through to the customer service number of their choice or are unable to get a competent answer. These folks are on interminable hold, and when the customer service does answer, they read from a script, and have no competence to answer any questions. The first one to swim through 100 yards of raw sewage naked gets through with a competent person on the line. You can’t humiliate the possible terminally ill but you can do so for the common everyday folks with everyday problems. (Shouts of Claw, Claw, Claw from the audience).”

“I got word that Chang’s booth was indeed soundproof and his guns for teachers with tax money from execution betting was an independent idea. Now that last one was Letisha and her can’t get an answer or appointment and I am about to lose my mind or a body part show. Eduardo, you’re up next, what is your best pitch for a reality TV show?”

“Thank you, Diego. Counties in Northern Idaho are about to make Stoning legal. We ride along with them as they go to big Eastern cities to pick out their targets. They converse with one another while walking around the city on deciding who to choose from, as there are so many choices. You get an up close and personal inside the mind of these folks. They will choose between trans people, homeless, drag queens, immigrants, or any minority will do. We can watch them capture, sedate, keep them quiet along the long trek across the country before the stoning ritual takes place back home. Children are encouraged to participate in throwing stones and learning from their elders the reasons these people need to be stoned” (Shouts of Rock on).

That was Eduardo and his no stone unturned show. Murray, what is your best pitch for a reality TV show? Thank you, Jaime. You know you always hear the phrase; he threw him under the bus but you never actually see anyone thrown under the bus. You gather together 10 people and you pick from drug addicts, nursing home residents, the uninsured, teachers and librarians and they plead to an audience why they shouldn’t be thrown under the bus. Sort of a Queen for the Day idea. A select audience of America First enthusiasts gets to choose which one gets to stay alive and they throw the other 9 under the bus. (Shouts of Bus, Bus, Bus).

That was Murray and his Thrown under the bus show. Finally, Gunther, what is your best pitch for a reality TV series?

Thank you, Slickster. We have two groups. One group is wives and girlfriends of Sports Stars, better known as WAGS, and the second group are female internet influencers. They compete on which group debases themselves more and turns the clock back on feminism with the revealing outfits they choose to put on the internet to monetize their body. Paige Spiranac can host the show and casts the single vote for winner and loser. She can evaluate each revealing outlook like nobody’s business. (Yells of hubba, hubba, hubba).

“Ok audience, you heard those great ideas. Now vote, on each idea, would you regularly tune into each broadcast idea. Our audience is voting and the accountants from Ernst and Young are tabulating the vote. Ok time is up.

“In 7th place, coming in at 67% is the Lying politicians and media show. I guess the populace has seen this show all too often already.

In 6th place, at 82% is Thoughts and Prayers. Boy, I thought that one would score higher, but here too, it has been seen so many times already, although the armed teacher is a nice twist.

Now, the next are amazingly bunched close together. Folks really want to see these.

In 5th place, at 91% is the terminally ill can’t get an appointment or customer service is incompetent. Perhaps a little too close to everyday life.

In 4th place, and just out of the money with 92% is Stoned throw picnic.

Now the top 3 which will be made into series for your viewing pleasure.

Number 3, at 95% is public executions with mobile betting. Who doesn’t like to put down a 2-dollar wager now and again? A little harmless fun.

At number 2, with 98%, female debasement. Who doesn’t like turning the clock back? Why you get an extra hour.

And at number 1 with 100%, Throw ‘em under the bus. Yes, although seen daily figuratively in politics, the press, and commentors on the internet from around the globe, a literal throwing under the bus would be something new. (Audience screaming, throw them, throw them, throw them. Bus, Bus, Bus)

Well, I hope you enjoyed our show and I’m sure viewers at home played along. Did your favorites make the top 3? This is JAMES Slick, thank you for letting me enter your home. Good night, America. The greatest country in the world!

Music (Roll out the barrels) plays to the closing credits.

#Its Morning in America

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adoracora-elizabeth · 1 year

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When life interrupts. Chapter 5

“Cora?” Robert asked while buttering his toast. It was a Sunday morning and had spent the night at Cora’s. During the week both were busy, but this was the second weekend they were together. Friday evening they went to a gig from a local band, yesterday they had walked around in the National Gallery. He noticed Cora was passionate about art. She knew so much about all the different artists.

Cora turned around, her curls swirled around her face, she was standing at the kitchen counter. Robert was transported back to last night when her curls were tickling his thighs. It had been obvious that he was Cora’s first, but he loved showing her what was possible and she was a fast learner. Last night she had surprised him with her mouth in a way he had never been pleased.

“Stop thinking about last night and ask your question.” Cora said stepping closer and kissing his cheek.

Robert wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his hand on her bottom. “I forgot what my question was.” He felt Cora’s hand moving over his back. She bent down to kiss his lips.

“I am sure you did not.”

With his hand still on her bottom he smirked. “You know me too well. “Why do you teach at that local school?”

Cora’s hand movement stopped. “Because I like teaching?” She raised her eyebrows. “What an odd question.”

“I don’t mean, why do you teach, I mean why aren’t you teaching on a higher level?” Robert moved his hand, so it was resting on her waist.

Cora frowned. She didn’t tell Robert about her dream. Teaching at the Royal College of Art. How did he know her doubts? “I, I.” She started but did not know what to answer exactly. “I never got the chance to teach somewhere else. I got this job and think I am happy with it.”

Now Robert took Cora’s hands in his. “Don’t fool yourself. I don’t believe you are happy with it. When you talk about your classes, I miss a spark in your eyes.”

“Oh” Cora said softly.

“Yes. Yesterday in the gallery I saw a spark when you were talking about the paintings and their history. Don’t you want to feel that when you are teaching?”

Cora lowered her eyes and tried to pull back her hands, but Robert strengthened his grip. “I don’t know the right people.”

With his thumb, he was brushing her hand with the other one he lifted her chin. “With your knowledge you don’t need to. Why don’t you write to them?”

“They won’t take it seriously. I am just a public school teacher.”

“Where did you study yourself?” Robert asked.

“I got my Master in art history at Columbia University back in New York.”

“And you are teaching at a public school? Darling, how did you end up there?”

Cora shrugged. “I needed a job. The only thing I found was at the school I teach now.”

Robert stared at Cora, she thought she wasn’t skilled enough. Totally forgetting the fact she has a master, something you need to be skilled for. “Cora, I think you should write that letter.

“Do you really?” Cora wasn’t sure if he was saying this to please her or that he really thought it.

“You have a master’s in art history, why would the Royal college of art don’t want you?”

Cora sighed, she knew Robert wouldn’t understand. “It is a master from America.”

“So?” Robert was getting more confused by the minute.

“You really don’t understand do you?” Cora got irritated. How did Robert not see the problem? She was lucky she had a job as a teacher at all. “Robert, you are forgetting I am an American with an American education. British people tend to look down on that. I wish I had taken the time to get my PhD at the University College London. But I didn’t.”

“You could still go for that PhD?” Robert tried. He saw that Cora’s blue eyes had turned into ice-cold fireballs.

“And who is going to pay for that? And how do you think I can afford this house? No Robert, maybe you are coming from a rich family where everything is possible and presented on a gold plate. I have to work for it. Something you should try” Cora did not know why she was getting this angry, she didn’t even know if Robert was rich. Maybe his parents didn’t pay for everything for him and he had said he worked in his father’s business. She sighed again, took Robert’s empty plate and threw it in the sink.

“If you really think that, then I think I better go.” Robert got up, kissed her cheek and left.

Cora sank to the ground with her head in her hands, she didn’t know why she got so mad and why she said that. Until now he hadn’t treated her differently since he knew she was from America and didn’t her parents pay for everything she needed. Her mother bought her this house. But once she got her teaching job, her mother cut her allowance in half. It was Martha’s way of saying she disagreed.

Cora got up and walked to her study, opened her laptop and checked the website for vacancies. There was one, for a minute she didn’t do anything, but then she clicked on the apply button.

+++

Angry Robert walked into his own apartment. Why had Cora said all this? His parents always gave him what he needed, but nothing came for free. His father taught him very young to work for his money. How dared Cora insinuate that he didn’t work? They were opening a new office on the mainland and his mother wanted him to go there to make sure the start-up would go smoothly. He had been very enthusiastic to go until he met Cora. She had shaken up his world and it was hard to leave her behind in London. He should not have left her house like this. Although he was only trying to help, he understood where she was coming from. It must have been indeed hard to find a job as an American. He knew his mother always looked down on Americans, they were loud and annoying according to Violet. But Robert knew better because he had met Cora.

#cora crawley #robert crawley #downton abbey #fanfiction #downton

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lostspelunker · 1 year

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I've been thinking how to fix American democracy, because younger generations are just not playing along and its ruing life for the rest of us. Like, everyone knows the turnout numbers. Everyone can see that the under-25 demographic does not show up because they've been disillusioned, disenfranchised, and disinterested.

I think it's because voting is still a fairly boomer-centered activity. It requires waiting in lines, mailing things, looking things up on government websites. Snore.

So here's how to millenialize voting.

Make it easier. I mean, this one's obvious. Online voting, automatic voter registration, maybe a government voting app, I don't know, but don't make me hunt down a voting booth.

Make the stickers collectible. People love limited-release collectibles. Add the term and the year, change around the design and colors, maybe make it a nice vinyl for people to put on their Yeti water bottle. Drive up demand by having cooler stickers earlier to encourage people to show up on time.

Have a channel on each of the main social media sites that explain in clear terms what each bill or proposition being posted is for, and what a yes or no vote means. Have guest spots from Keanu Reeves, Jeff Goldblum, and Brendan Fraser (or whoever the current over-beloved celebrity is at the moment) who come in and talk about the policies in an approachable manner.

Make voting a common and even normal activity that creates demonstrable change, and not just during election season. Universities and schools should have polls for what's going to be on the menu at the food court, what the school colors should be at the start of each year, and so on. Jobs could elect UNION REPS, or at least vote on responses to customer complaints. Communities can vote on dates of the next farmers market, what plants should be installed at a local park, and the color of paint the local street signs should use.

Voting day should be a public holiday, but the day after voting day should be a special holiday for people who voted. If someone can produce proof they voted, they get the day off or holiday pay. If someone cannot, they have to work and wear a shame pin.

Ranked voting so the people can put their favorite meme votes in and still place a vote for the actual candidates.

Feel free to add your own ideas. I'm tired of being embarrassed by my generation.

#vote #please #for the love of god please vote #new rules #cringe #people who don't vote are the worst #America #democracy

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theliterateape · 2 years

Text

"Here, Take a Pill," said the Pushers of Pills

by Don Hall

In order to find temporary employment as I help care give my father in Kansas, I decided to apply to substitute teach here.

For those familiar with my bizarre, nomadic career path, you know that I as a Chicago Public School teacher throughout the nineties and even wrote a book about it entitled Strippers, Guns, and The Holocaust Museum: OR: How I Survived My Time as a Chicago Public School Music Teacher. I ended up losing my taste for teaching children (mostly due to the bureaucracy of the public school system at the time—a situation that decades later seems far worse than better) and moved on.

The best part of getting a teaching degree (as opposed to one in Philosophy, Theater, or Gender Studies) is that it doesn’t wear out. I can apply to and teach in any American public school which makes it a perfect fall-back in times of financial fuckery.

As this current moment is one of those times, I applied, filled out paperwork online, sent my transcripts, got fingerprinted. One of the requirements is to get both a physical and a TB test, so I scheduled an appointment with a local clinic (no personal doctor, no insurance) and went in. I waited a bit but not long. They pricked me for the TB test and commenced to the physical. The nurse did her thing, asking questions, poking and prodding.

“Do you have problems with persistent vomiting?”

“No.”

“Why did you mark yes on the vomiting?”

“The question doesn’t clarify ‘persistent’ but I have vomited before so I was trying to be thorough.”

She re-marked it “No.”

She finished. I waited. The doctor came in, perusing my chart.

“Looking good, Mr. Hall. Everything seems to paint you as perfectly healthy, except…”

“Except?”

“Your blood pressure is a little bit high.”

“A little bit like I’m going to die soon or a little bit, just a tad over normal?”

“You aren’t going to die from it. Did you gain some weight recently?”

“Yup. Put on about twenty pounds in the past four months. Long story. Lots of stress and hiding from an ex-wife.”

“Well, I can prescribe you with some blood pressure medication if you’d like.”

“Medication? Nah.”

She adds, almost apologetically, “You could also, you know, focus more on… exercise and diet.”

“Yeah. I joined a gym as soon as I landed here. Already dropped seven in the past three weeks. I know weight loss isn’t an instant thing but I’ll drop the weight. I dropped eighty pounds about fifteen years ago and only managed to bring back about thirty of that in that time. I’ll get it done.”

With that, I was outta there but the fact that her first inclination was to prescribe medication over exercise bothered me. During the very beginnings of the pandemic, while my ex-wife decided to through caution to the wind and sleep with strangers for cash, I found myself conflicted. I believed Fauci, knew that vaccines were coming from Big Pharma, but was also watching Michael Keaton deal with the pernicious greed of that corporate monster in Hulu’s Dopesick and I had a hard time squaring the fact that the villains in the opioid crisis would come to our collective rescue with a vaccine. I mean, I got over it in that I vaxxed and boosted, wore my mask, and did my level best to be a respectful citizen but the gnawing in my brain wouldn’t subside.

Adding to my discomfort was the fact that, when COVID hit, it would have been simple to warn that those most at risk were fat, old, and immunocompromised but the current fear of offense prevented such a clear and obvious declaration. “Fat but healthy” just isn’t a real thing. As we dick around with the feelings of the Doritos and Coke class, we put them at serious risk, especially the poor. Instead of doubling down on ‘Eat a fucking salad and get off your ass and move some, chunky,” we miss the boat on actually helping those who need it most.

The US obesity prevalence was 41.9% in 2017 – March 2020. (NHANES, 2021)

From 1999 –2000 through 2017 –March 2020, US obesity prevalence increased from 30.5% to 41.9%. During the same time, the prevalence of severe obesity increased from 4.7% to 9.2%. (NHANES, 2021)

Obesity-related conditions include heart disease, stroke, type 2 diabetes and certain types of cancer. These are among the leading causes of preventable, premature death.

The estimated annual medical cost of obesity in the United States was nearly $173 billion in 2019 dollars. Medical costs for adults who had obesity were $1,861 higher than medical costs for people with healthy weight.

SOURCE

More fodder to chew is surfing through television (as opposed to streaming, my folks actually watch regular TV) and I land on a show called Man vs Food which is nothing more than an avatar for Americans overindulging in three-pound bagel sandwiches and five-pounds of nachos in a single sitting for viewing please. Also, the fucking commercials leveled at those who watch the local news is a fucking parade of pharmaceutical wonderment—depressed, low energy, or bulging eyes from a Thyroid condition? Take a pill! Yes, this pill might make you suicidal, bleed from your anus, instantly diabetic, and prevent you from ever procreating but, goddam it, you won’t have shingles, so there!

Christ, the most popular kind of pill in existence (beyond opioids) only work 15% of the time.

When looking at how the Affordable Care Act tabulates effective value-based outcomes, it turns out that the actual curing of the issue is far less important than medically altering or diminishing the symptoms. Hospitals get paid based upon the amount of drugs given rather than diseases cured. Why? Because Big Pharma writes the guidelines.

Maybe this doesn’t come as any big surprise to most of you. I’ve avoided going to doctors as much as possible but that’s because both when I was six and when I was twenty, I had medical professionals pronounce me dead within a short time span, both who were dead wrong. I outlasted the first by fifty years and second by thirty-six so they were as accurate as presidential pollsters were in 2016. I’m sure doctors and pharmacists and drug researchers are perfectly fine as human beings but the business they are in is as corrupt and heinous as Chicago real estate.

The result? I’ll take NyQuil when I have a head cold and Advil when my shoulder aches but treat most of my ailments with a strong dose of exercise, sleep, and decent, non-processed food. Except for COVID, which I received all the pertinent vaccines and still ended up getting.

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Homecoming

Shield High School FACULTY AU

Pairing: Teacher! Bucky x Reader; Teacher!Avengers x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Language, SMUT, mutual pining, angst, jealousy, Loki being Loki, Thor being oblivious, horny Bucky, masturbation, explicit fantasy, daddy kink, fingering, manual sex, sexually charged language, semi-public sexual act.

A/N: This comes right after Newbie. I hope you like this. I got a few requests to be tagged, so if I missed you, just drop me a line.

————————

Steve, Bucky and Sam watched as you filled your coffee cup and waved at them before you hurried to your classroom.

You couldn’t hang out in the lounge this morning because you had a zoom meeting with a parent.

“She probably didn’t eat a good breakfast this morning either…”

Bucky grumbled as he watched you leave.

He turned back to his friends who were smirking at each other over their coffee.

“You got a banana that she could devour?”

Bucky flipped Sam off and got up to refill his cup. In the first four weeks of school, you had become their fourth musketeer, filling the void unexpectedly.

No one would ever replace T’Challa, in anyone’s heart, but you were a breath of fresh air, and just like one of the guys; the homie.

To Steve and Sam.

For Bucky, it was complicated.

“I’m so sick of you pining over Yourname. When are you going to make your move?”

Bucky just stared at Sam.

“Who says I wanna make a move? She’s a friend.”

“Well, if you don’t make a move, someone else will. She’s hot.”

Steve gave Bucky a sideye as he said it.

“If you’re not interested, I might try to shoot my….”

“I’d fucking break your stupid fucking face.”

Bucky threatened Steve calmly as he sipped his coffee, blue eyes gone dark and aimed at his friend while his left, metal hand curled into a fist. The threat was low, but menacing.

Steve and Sam were silent, then Sam groaned and reached for his wallet while Steve slapped the table.

“I told you! Fuck you. Pay me Sam!”

Steve was grinning at his intuitiveness.

Loren Olsen walked into the room, and caught the tail end of the conversation.

“I didn’t think you were the kind of man to pay for it Wilson, but sex work is work. Good for you Steve, for requesting adequate compensation for your skills.”

It was obvious that he amused himself because of the lopsided grin on his face.

The three men just stared at him coldly, not reacting to his idea of a joke.

Olsen cleared his throat.

“Where is Ms. Reader? I have some books that will aid her in her instruction.”

Bucky looked at Olsen’s pale hands and saw a couple of literature books. He reached out his hand.

“I’ll take them to her. No need for you to go all the way across the building.”

Loren smirked.

“Oh yes. It is interesting how she got the room right next to yours, T’Challa’s old room, is it?”

Bucky and he held a staring match.

“Yes, it would have made more sense for hers to be right next to mine instead of that insufferable little nuisance Parker.”

Bucky took another sip of coffee and shrugged.

“For all his bluster, Fury is a smart instructional leader. Steve’s room is on the other side of hers. Makes sense for US History and American Lit classes to be near each other. You know, cross-curricular instruction? It will help the kids on their AP tests.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why that happened. And you and Steve enjoy having her between you two, I bet. But that leaves your darling Sam out...”

He was trying to insult them, but the tone of his voice was a little too teling.

“I’m right across the hallway, so I get mine.”

Sam grinned at Olsen, not offended at all.

“You know I’m teaching Psychology this term? There’s this phenomenon called projection…”

Olsen interrupted Sam’s burn.

“I will deliver these myself. I could use the morning constitutional. And I need to get in deep with her…”

Loren’s light blue eyes flashed at Bucky’s.

“...about the Smarter Instruction Conference next month. It’s in the City this year and Fury agreed to pay for us to attend.”

He flashed a smile at the trio.

“We have to finalize our registration and hotel arrangements.”

“GOOD MORNING ESTEEMED EDUCATIONAL COLLEAGUES…”

Eric Masterson entered the lounge and Loren Olsen shot Bucky a look and then exited the room, muttering about Eric’s entrances.

“What is with the frost giant? And why do you have a look of displeasure on your face Barnes? Did you not charge your arm last night?”

Steve shook his head at Eric.

“Why do you talk that way? It’s just...so very unnecessary.”

“Nevermind that, Rogers. Let’s talk about whether you are worthy to pick up the mantle of the head of the Halloween Haunting fundraiser for the athletic fund in two short weeks...”

Bucky ignored the conversation at the table, steam literally coming off his head. He stared straight ahead as he imagined you trapped in New York City with the Author of Lies, as Stark called him.

“Look at that.” Eric pointed at Bucky. “Barnes looks as if he is about to explode…”

Bucky didn’t even hear what Eric said as he stood up, gathered his things, and headed toward his classroom.

---

It took a good five minutes to walk from the teacher’s lounge, which was in the main wing, to his classroom, which was in the new addition.

Bucky tried to clear his head of thought and emotion. It was hard. Ever since you walked into the building, compartmentalizing was impossible.

Your voice, your eyes, your hair, your skin, your smile. Those legs, that ass, that body. Everything about you physically was perfect. To him. Your wit, your intelligence, and your enthusiasm, all of that was a balm to his stormy soul.

Especially since he’d about decided to give up teaching and reenlist.

He’d decided that civilian life wasn’t for him, because at least in the army, when you lost people, it was for a greater purpose.

Stateside, his friends abandoned him because of things that don’t make sense. Like cancer.

Losing T’Challa put him in a tailspin but he’d let Sam and Steve talk him into one more year to see how it went. He didn’t think he could make it without all of his friends around him and then you showed up.

And when you ate that fucking banana on the first day….Holy shit, Bucky couldn’t help his mind from day dreaming about your lips wrapped around his cock.

Daily.

Several times a day.

And especially at night, when he was alone in his apartment, Alpine mewling and at his bedroom door as he languidly stroked himself to completion, the lube a poor substitute for how you must really feel.

Bucky tried to clear his mind and he scrubbed his face with his hand to get his mind right as he approached your room. He took out his phone and texted his wingmen.

He heard your laugh as he approached. Shit, did you really enjoy talking to that fucker? He could hear what you were saying as he got closer.

“That sounds amazing, Mr. Olsen!”

Bucky was at your door and saw you behind your desk and Olsen perched on the edge of it, leaning over to you.

One of his long legs was drawn up on the desk and the other was on the floor. Bucky had the urge to take that one out and send Olsen to the hospital, but he resisted.

“I told you. Call me Loren.”

Although he couldn’t see it, Bucky was sure that Olsen had on his shit eating grin.

You had the nerve to bat your eyes up at him as you replied.

“I’m sorry, Loren. It just slipped out.”

At that, Bucky turned on his heel and went into his room, slinging his bag into his chair and pacing in front of the window for a bit. He looked at his watch and saw that he had 30 minutes until class started.

“C’mon….,” he muttered to himself. Then he heard it. The chime for the overhead speaker.

Mr. Olsen, please report to the office, Mr. Olsen to the office.

It was Lorraine, the front desk secretary. Steve must have gone and flirted with her to get her to do this. Bucky watched Olsen stalk off down the hallway and then got up and went to your room, trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey Bucky!”

You tried not to stare at him. He looked so cute. His glasses fit his handsome face and his lithe body just did it for you. This nerd boy was your cup of tea.

You were up now, making sure that every desk had a book on it. Bucky walked toward you, took half the stack and helped you put them out.

“Good morning. You ran out of the lounge like lightning. Did you eat breakfast?”

You ducked your head. Why did Bucky always treat you like a little sister? It was frustrating. He must think you were an idiot.

“Almost? I had a banana on the way to school.”

Bucky smirked and said, “Fun times for the banana,” under his breath.

“What?”

You were on the other side of the room.

“I said, you need to eat more than a banana for breakfast.”

Bucky tried to be a concerned friend instead of a simp. He felt he was failing miserably.

“I know, I know. I really am a full grown adult woman. I promise.”

At 26, you were older than most first year teachers, but you worked to put both you and your sister through college and went to school part time.

You felt so new at all of this sometimes. Living your dreams was a heady thing. You’d wanted to be a teacher since you were four.

You smiled at him and then turned around to pick up a book that fell off a student desk. The visual was like a one-two punch for Bucky who had to plant his feet to keep from going up behind you.

“Oh, I believe you, Doll.”

You straightened up and looked at him over your shoulder. You loved when he called you that. It made your liver quiver, although you’d reasoned it was another way that he was designating you as a younger sibling.

Bucky stared at you for a long time as you turned around to face him. Your shirtwaist wrap dress was choice today. He figured all he had to do was pull a string and it would be on the floor. Then, you would be on the floor on top of the dress and under him…

He snapped out of it and changed the subject.

“You brought a change of clothes for practice today?” He just wanted an excuse to continue talking to you.

“Yeah, my bag is in my car. I’m excited!”

Bucky was taking over the soccer program since T’Challa was… gone now. You were assisting with Girl’s Soccer, whose season was in the fall.

“Oh! But tomorrow, Nat and I are going shopping for something to wear for the Homecoming dance on Friday, so I will have to leave early.”

Nat was your one close female friend on staff. The others were nice, but to themselves, like Wanda, or outright standoffish, like Sharon Carter.

“You’re getting a dress for Homecoming?”

Bucky was confused.

“Yes? Aren’t you chaperoning?” You were smiling at him again.

“Of course.”

Bucky answered quickly, although he had planned on no such thing.

You brightened up.

“Cool! I can’t wait to see you in a suit and tie.”

Hold up, wait. Bucky hadn’t signed up for this.

“You mean so that I can look like Olsen?”

Loren wore a bespoke suit and tie to school everyday, as opposed to Bucky’s t-shirts, sportcoats, and jeans. Made him wonder how Olsen could afford that on a teacher’s salary. It also made him wonder if that is what you liked.

“Well, he does look good in a suit.”

Bucky’s heart dropped. It was hopeless.

“But I think you’d look good in anything.”

You flashed a shy smile and turned to go back to your desk.

You were praying that you didn’t sound too smitten with every step you took, but you heard the smile in his voice when he said, “Well, we just might see, Doll.”

You turned around and you two grinned at each other for a few seconds, then Bucky cleared his throat again.

“So, what was Olsen in here talking about? New words added to the OED?”

You laughed at Bucky’s joke, and then said, “No, he was telling me about the Instruction Conference in NYC next month. I’m excited!”

“Yeah?”

You excited was everything. He couldn’t be mad.

“Yeah! You, me and the guys will have a ball! Learning about smarter instruction, of course.” You giggled.

“Oh. Well, Doll, I don’t know if there are funds for us to go too… Fury hasn’t said anything to us about it.”

Your face fell.

“Well, damn. I was looking forward to it, maybe you and Steve showing me around Brooklyn, and to Sam being my personal photographer.”

You looked up at him and damn if you weren’t pouting. Fuck! His pants got a little tighter and he wanted to kiss, lick and fuck those lips into a smile.

“I’ll ask Sam if the Social Studies department has funds for us to go.”

You clapped excitedly, just like his perfect little sexy baby doll. He had to make a way.

He heard the early warning bell. Ten minutes to go.

“Well, I’ll get going now.”

“Have a great morning. See you at lunch!”

“You too, Doll.”

-------

You were wiggling and pouting on the bed beneath him. Bucky put his hand on your waist keeping you still while slapping the head of his thick cock against your clit. You kept moving and whining.

Bucky’s metal hand grabbed your face and squeezed gently.

“Keep still, Baby Doll. I’m about to fuck you senseless.”

“Yes Daddy.”

Bucky groaned and prepared his stiff cock to enter your glory, when his phone rang.

He tried to ignore it and keep stroking, but it was your special ringtone. He took a minute to catch his breath and answered it.

He ignored his cock, which was still standing at full mast as he greeted you.

“What’s up, Doll?”

His voice was deep and gravely, almost like early in the morning on Tuesdays when you two did morning duty. But he sounded breathless, too.

“You sound weird, Bucky. You okay?”

“Oh yeah. Just. Working out.”

Bucky’s dick deflated as the guilt set in. He felt like a creeper. He was in this situation because you sweaty in a t-shirt and shorts after working out with the team drove him to distraction.

He just wanted to smell your sweat soaked pussy. Was that so wrong?

He put you on speaker and cleaned himself up, pulling his basketball shorts back on.

“Well, I was thinking that Seraphine would be a better striker than a mid-fielder. Her speed…”

You started talking about the girls, excitedly chattering. All Bucky could think about was you as he listened to your voice.

“I agree. You’re absolutely right.”

“Cool. I just had to share before I knocked out and forgot all about it.”

Bucky had settled on the couch to reduce temptation. He turned on the tv, letting some random movie flicker on the schreen, a distraction from his mind.

But he couldn’t be distracted from you. He wondered what you looked like right now.

“What are you…” he caught himself. “Doing?”

He leaned back and tried to picture you in his mind.

All of a sudden, his phone started ringing. He opened his eyes and saw that you were FaceTiming him. He sat up, ran his hands through his hair and tried to be cool.

When he answered the FaceTime, your cute face filled his phone screen. When you saw him, your eyes got wide.

“What?”

Then you just kept staring and he looked down.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Not wearing a shirt. Told you I was working out.”

He grinned sheepishly at you as he put his phone down and slipped on a hoodie. You got a glimpse of abs and a bulge in his gym shorts that had to be distorted. Damn, you were thirsty.

Bucky could tell that you were wearing a tank top, but he could only see you from your shoulders up. You were adorable with your hair up in a scarf and your face scrubbed clean of make up. A natural doll.

“This was supposed to be a surprise, but I can’t keep a secret, so…”

You grinned as you put the phone down and propped it up on the counter to show Bucky what you were doing. You were making what looked like stir fry.

You were also giving him a damn good view of you in a tank top and white cotton panties, which he was sure you weren’t aware of. He only felt like a little bit of a creep as he paid very close attention.

“I wanted to prove that I could cook myself a meal, and also pay you back for feeding me every day.”

Bucky always brought an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich for you.

“I’m gonna bring it for our lunch tomorrow.”

You brought the phone up to your face. Bucky groaned, “Looks so good Doll. I can’t wait to eat it.”

Bucky meant the food, and you. But you had no idea that he wanted you. And he wasn’t sure if you wanted him, but the look on your face made him semi hard again.

He was so freaking cute and sexy. You almost offered to take some food over, but you didn’t want to be forward. Or rejected.

“Ok. Well. You can have some tomorrow.”

Bucky grinned and chuckled at the thought.

“I guess I’ll let you go…”

You felt self conscious, so you bit your lip.

Bucky looked through the phone and you.

“Don’t ever do that, Doll…”

Goodness, your heart. You wish he knew.

“Sweet dreams, Doll. See you tomorrow.”

That voice, those eyes, that pet name. You were unsettled.

“‘Night, James.”

You hung up before Bucky realized what you’d said.

——-

Bucky woke up hopeful and smiled all the way to school, looking for you in the lounge.

You weren’t there, but he started a conversation with Peter. The kid was green and needed some advice. Bucky didn’t want him to end up like Clint.

You floated in and out before he got a real chance to talk to you.

At lunch, he saw the look on your face when Sam called him your “work husband” when you brought him the food. You ate and left quickly making Bucky want to smash something.

The entire day was awkward, and he wanted to approach you, but it was never the right time. After school, you bailed on practice to go shopping, so Bucky ended the school day frustrated.

———-

“The little dance you two do is cute, but it’s time to make a move, sweetie.”

“What?”

Natalie cocked her head at you and shook it.

“C’mon. You just picked out a dress the color of Bucky’s eyes.”

You hadn’t even realized. You were drawn to the ocean blue dress retro dress and it looked good on you.

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To everyone. Except James Buchanan Barnes.”

You nodded.

“Well, that’s good. Since he just thinks of me as a little sister.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“If you were his sister, he could be arrested for what he wanted to do to you.”

You just gaped at her as she smiled.

“Both of you are so smart, yet so clueless. You deserve each other.”

Nat chuckled and shook her head.

“It’s been entertaining but it’s getting old. My date for your hookup in the pool is imminent, so get a move on.”

“Wait.. there’s a betting pool?”

Natasha groaned as she explained what was so obvious to everyone else.

——————

On Friday night at the dance, Bucky fidgeted in the back of the gym by the punch bowl. He kept looking around for you and adjusting his tie.

Bucky found it in his mailbox after school that day. It was ocean blue and he thought he knew who gave it to him, but you had bolted early for the day and wouldn’t answer any texts.

That made him nervous, but he wore the tie and noticed that it matched his eyes. He didn’t know what it meant, but he was hopeful as he decided to ditch his glasses for contacts tonight.

Peter Parker came up next to him and started talking. He liked the kid, but he was full of questions. When Tony Stark wasn’t around, he sought out Bucky.

“So… Bucky?”

Bucky took a sip of punch which had basically no flavor; he pulled out his flask and spiked his cup with gin and offered some to Parker who refused.

“Yeah, kid?” Bucky’s eyes were scanning the room for you.

“I have a weird relationship with Homecoming.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I got into a big thing with my date’s dad, and then she moved away.”

Bucky looked at Peter. This kid had real anxiety.

“Sounds… pretty much like normal teenage stuff, Pete.”

“Well, it was epic to me...Whoa. Yourname looks hot.”

Bucky turned around, and there you were, framed in the light of the gym doors and looking around. The dress you were wearing was everything.

The way it fit was perfect, and the length matched with 6 inch heels made your legs look like they went on forever.

It was a modest dress, but the way you were wearing it, with your matching glasses and long, sexy legs, made you look like a teacher Bucky needed to fuck.

And he was staring at you now and licking his lips.

He felt a push and he was forced to step toward you. He looked behind him to see Sam grinning at him, and then turned around just in time to catch your eye.

Bucky tried to be cool as he walked toward you and you checked him out. He hoped you liked what you saw.

“Damn, Bucky is fine,” you thought as you saw a dreamboat come toward you. You smiled and grasped your clutch in front of you, feeling your skirt move as you shimmied a little from side to side.

You were excited that he was wearing the tie. Maybe he was picking up what you were putting down.

“Hey Doll.” You could have just fainted away at the way he said that.

“Hello James.” You pouted up at him softly, then smiled. Bucky wanted to drop to his knees before you.

“Your eyes are so nice. You look… good.”

You took in his suit and tie and reached up to straighten it.

Bucky relished the feel of your hands on him, with the feather touches to his neck and the way your hand lingered on his shoulder when you were done.

“You are the best looking thing in this place, a real life Doll.” He took your hand and twirled you so that your skirt fanned out. He didn’t let go.

“Thanks for the tie.”

He beamed down at you.

“Does this mean that I’m your date, since we’re matching and all….”

You couldn’t even front.

“I just had to get it when I was out shopping. I thought you would look hot in it.”

You smiled up at him, your stomach doing somersaults.

“I wasn’t wrong.”

“You…. think I’m hot?”

Bucky raised his eyebrow at you and all of a sudden you were nervous. You looked down at your shoes. Bucky raised your chin with his metal hand so you’d look at him again.

“That’s good, because I think you are hot too. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Bucky smiled down at you. “You didn’t answer my question. Am I your date to this dance?”

He looked so dreamy that you were caught up.

“Do you want me to be?”

You being coy was not gonna help you not get railed tonight, Bucky decided. In fact, it would only make him pursue you harder.

“Yes, Yourname. Will you be my date for this dance?”

“Yes, James, I will.”

Bucky grinned and wanted to pick you up and twirl you around, but instead he presented his arm as he turned around to lead you to…. All of a sudden he swerved.

Sam and Steve and Bruce and Tony were by the punchbowl now, sights set on the two of you. He didn’t want them to harsh the vibe you two were building, but you had other ideas.

‘“Oh! Let’s go say hello!”

You tugged him toward the group.

Bucky cringed and tried to stay out of the line of fire as they all complimented you on your dress and how nice you looked. But of course he wouldn’t be so lucky.

His boys started busting his balls about the suit, and Tony started throwing shade. He withstood it for you, but then Stark got in what he thought was the ultimate jab.

“Aw, you two look so cute together. You should go take a picture.”

Tony nodded toward the Homecoming backdrop that the kids were using. Sam and Steve were holding in laughter, as Bruce just shook his head.

You looked at the picture line and then back at them.

“A picture is an AWESOME idea!”

-----------

That was how you ended up marching all five of them over to the picture station and took a group pic.

First they were grumbling, and then got into it, doing silly, retro poses, and then one nice one, with Bucky behind you, holding your hip against his as Sam and Steve stood behind him and Bruce and Tony stood facing you.

You tried to concentrate on smiling and not grinding back against him, but then he pulled you back on him as the photographer counted, and you felt a sizeable bulge. You were sure that picture showed you with your eyes wide.

You went back to work, separating horny teenagers, all the while sympathizing with them. Even though you didn’t stay right by his side, you were never out of Bucky’s sight.

It felt as if he was stalking you as his prey and you knew some kind of conversation about what this ‘date’ meant was coming.

You wanted the truth about how he felt. Did he like you like you? You thought about it and had an idea. You tore a piece of paper out of the little notebook you always carried with you.

When you were done, you took your folded note, came up next to him as he was talking with Peter, and put it in his coat pocket.

He looked down and then up at you as you sauntered away, smiling at him over your shoulder.

----

You were outside around the back of the gym, panicking and thinking of running away. What the hell was up with you? You taught high school, you weren’t in high school.

You waited, five, then ten minutes and decided to give it up. That’s it. This crush was officially over, you’d forget about him.

You’d decided to go home when you heard Bucky clear his throat. You looked up and it was like his eyes were shining in the dark.

“You know, I’m a little slow at times. I stared at the front of the note for a long time, knowing my answer, and then searched for you everywhere inside.”

You looked up at him breathlessly as he approached.

“And then two minutes ago I finally turned it over and saw that you told me to meet you out here.”

You pouted. He dick swelled. He moved closer to you, took your face in his hand, and traced your lips. He chuckled.

“Sorry Doll, but in answer to your question: Yes. I like you. I like everything about you.”

His eyes swept over your face and down to your dress.

“Question is, do you like me?”

He stopped tracing your lips and moved his hand to your neck, encasing it, three fingers at your nape. You fought the urge to close your eyes.

“Y-yes James. I like you.”

Bucky smiled and moved closer. He moved his face toward yours and you just knew he was going to kiss you, but then he stopped. You whined.

“Can I kiss you?” He liked this control he had over you.

“Please.” You wanted him.

His eyebrow raised again.

“Begging already. Oh, Baby Doll.”

You moaned as Bucky closed his lips on yours, tongue sweetly probing, then forcefully parting your lips and dominating your mouth sweetly.

When you parted, you were both panting, Bucky’s hand still on your neck and your hands on his chest, clutching his tie. You tugged on it, pulling him back in for another.

And you made out behind the gym like teenagers, hands first shyly exploring, then groping each other through your clothes.

When you came up for air, you decided to go for it.

“I want you.”

Bucky wanted to jump for joy. But he decided to stay cool.

“What does that mean?”

You glared up at him. “You know what I mean.”

“No I don’t Doll, tell me.”

There was a staring contest as Bucky licked his lips. Shit.

“I want you to defile me. Fuck me stupid, ruin me for any other man…”

Bucky cut you off with another kiss. He didn’t think that you would just give voice to his fantasies like that.

“Don’t get me going, Doll. Wouldn’t do to have you screaming out here, now would it?”

“I dare you.” You were getting bold.

Bucky turned you around so that your face was on the wall and he pushed his crotch into your ass. Needing more contact, you pushed back on him, wanton and desperate for him.

“What’s this? You want my cock?”

Bucky palmed your ass and felt you up through the dress, squeezing and manhandling you with his metal hand.

“Y-yes James. I need it. I dream about it.”

You reached back and grabbed it, your mind not fully registering its scope through his trousers. It felt like a large, metal bar. For a moment you wondered if it was made out of the same material as his arm.

You were making him weak. He had to do something. He brought his other hand around and rubbed your cunt through the material of your skirt, your pussy warm through the fabric. You instinctively pressed against him, wanting more.

He listened to you whimper as he moved his hand, and to the sounds of your wetness increase even through the dress and your underwear.

“Sounds like you need some relief, huh Baby Doll?”

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his hand hiked up your dress and cupped your sex through the top of your panties. His bare fingers on your clit was heaven.

“Y-yes..”

Bucky pinched your clit and clapped his metal hand over your mouth as you keened.

“So fucking responsive for me. I can’t wait to get you in bed.”

And his hand started moving, one finger taking the deep dive into your wet heat and the others gripping the rest of you. He added another finger, and felt you clench around him.

“So fucking tiny. Want my cock in this tight little hole?”

Bucky whispered as he practically lifted you off the ground with the way he was finger fucking you.

“God yes.”

You started humming in your throat and as Bucky took your hand from around his cock and wrapped his arm around your waist, pressing himself into you as you moaned louder.

“Quiet Baby Doll, don’t want anyone to know how good I’m making you feel out here.. this is just for me…”

“It’s yours….”

“You’re got damn right it is. Since the day we met, you’ve. Been. Mine…

Each word was punctuated by a swirl of his thumb around your clit, and you came all over his hand when he said the word, ‘mine.’

He held you up as you came, not withdrawing his hand from you until your pussy stopped pulsing. Then, he fixed your panties, pulled your dress down, and turned you around.

You clung to him, a little exhausted, but thrilled at the same time.

“Mmmm. So good. I knew you’d taste delicious.”

Bucky was moaning in your ear. You pulled back to look him in the eye as he licked your juices off his fingers.

“Let me take care of you.” You reached for his zipper, but he stopped you.

“No. We’re gonna take our time the rest of the night. I just had to make you feel good. I dream about it.”

You smiled.

“Good, cause I want to swallow your cock nice, slow, and sloppy.”

Those words, along with the look you gave him and the way you licked your lips made it jump.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me jizz in my pants, Baby Doll.”

Bucky chuckled into your ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

——————-

Let me know if too liked it by liking, commenting, and reblogging!

Read the next part, Quarter Finals

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howelljenkins · 4 years

Text

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

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jackiearbs · 3 years

Text

things that rwrb characters have said that i will never forget, a thread:

alex claremont-diaz, giving off dumbass™ energy (he has the most on this thread, for obvious reasons)

- "put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room-"

- “Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. cornbread knows my sins, Henry. cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.”

- "do it for the 'gram"

- "leading member of korean pop band bts kim nam-june"

- "whatever, fine. henry is annoyingly attractive. that’s always been a thing, objectively. it’s fine.”

- "see attached bibliography"

- "i said, you look great, baby!”

- "yo there’s a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe"

- "awesome, fuckin' love doing things out of spite.”

-”Huge Raging Headache Prince Henry of Who Cares”

-”it is amazing you can sit down to write emails with that gigantic royal stick up your ass.”

- “who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney.”

-” “Do I go on your side of the cubicle and turn off your Dropkick Murphys Spotify station, no matter how much I want to?” Alex demands. “No, Hunter, I don’t.”

- “for fuck's sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good-night.”

- “Bake Off makes Chopped look like the fucking Manson tapes.”

- “THEY KNOW. THEY KNOW I HAVE ROBBED THEM OF FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS TO SIT IN A CAGE IN MY ROOM, AND THE MINUTE I TURN MY BACK THEY ARE GOING TO FEAST ON MY FLESH.”

- “You’re from Boston, Hunter. You really want to talk about all the places bigotry comes from?” (he really hates hunter goddamn)

-”so, what? you want me to quit politics and go become a princess? that’s not very feminist of you.”

hrh prince dickhead😎 - "the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him.”

-"“I’ve been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip.”

-”i will turn this car around.”

- “yes, the cocaine, alex.”

-”i am a delight!”

-”have i mentioned lately that you’re a demon?”

- “are you psychoanalyzing me? i don't think royal guests are allowed to do that.”

- "i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.”

-“the phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me.”

-"i just mean to say, you know, Philip is the heir and I'm the spare, and if that nervy bastard has a heart attack at thirty five and I've got malaria, whither the spare?”

- “they wanted something less fruity than the truth, but truly, what is gayer than a woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown every day of her life, for the drama?”

- “You are a delinquent and a plague. Please come?”

- “fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth. Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.”

june: “- that is a clear quartz crystal for good vibes do not @ me.”

- “He’s just so frail, it’d only take one good push-”

- “ugh! men! no emotional vocabulary. i can’t believe our ancestors survived centuries of wars and plagues and genocide just to wind up with your sorry ass.”

nora:

-”sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again? my bad. hello, would you like to come out to me? im listening. hi.”

“prince henry is a biscuit. let him sop you up.”

- “you’ve been, like, Draco Malfoy–level obsessed with Henry for years.”

- “i don’t know, man. I was in my junior year of high school, and I touched a boob. It wasn’t very profound. Nobody’s gonna write an Off-Broadway play about it.”

dahra:

- “You need to get back to fucking England now, and if anyone sees you leave, I will personally end you. Ask me if I’m afraid of the crown.”

- “both sides need to come out of this looking like your little slap-fight at the wedding was some homoerotic frat bro mishap, okay? So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”

-”come on, you backyard-shooting-range motherfuckers,”

ellen (should i say PRESIDENT claremont)

- “Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit"

- “I had Planned Parenthood send over all these pamphlets, take one! They sent a bike messenger and everything!”

- ”where? Are you hiding a turkey habitat up your ass, son? Where, in our historically protected house, am I going to put a couple of turkeys until I pardon them tomorrow?”

-“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”

PEZ !!!

- “frolic naked in the hills, frighten the sheep, return to the house for the usual: tea, biscuits, casting ourselves onto the Thighmaster of love to moan about the Claremont-Diaz siblings, which has become tragically one-sided since Henry took it up with you. It used to be all bottles of cognac and shared malaise and ‘When will they notice us’-”

-”-and now i just ask henry, ‘what is your secret?’ and he says, ‘i insult alex all the time, and that seems to work.’”

**extra: nicer quotes from alex and henry

alex heartthrob diaz - "never tell me the odds"

-"we were not afforded that liberty."

-“I hate this so much. I know. But we’re gonna do it together. And we’re gonna make it work. You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”

- “On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

- “history, huh? Bet we could make some.”

- “But the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.”

-“Take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.”

- “Someone else’s choice doesn’t change who you are.”

- “I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.”

- “America: He is my choice.”

- “Give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart, There's so much of you.”

- the entire list of the things he loves about henry. i would die

henry:

-”i’ll be damned but i miss you.”

- “when you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. and then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?”

- “it sounds like you did your best.”

- “I’ve bloody well had it. I’ve sat about long enough letting you and Gran and the weight of the damned world keep me pinned, and I’m finished. I don’t care. You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I’m done.”

- “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #rw&rb #alex claremont diaz #prince henry of wales #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #ellen claremont #rwrb shitpost

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #covid for ts #i had a lot to say evidently #rant

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