#The economy is still going babe! They are just protesting! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astralaffairs · 3 years

Note

concept: first lady mc reads of fotp!tjeff’s speeches and edits them for all the things she thinks are stupid or unethical. and he’s like “sweetheart, my party isn’t ready for universal healthcare. i can’t be pissing people off within the first month of my presidency.” but she couldn’t give a fuck and continues marking up his speeches with a red pen all while insisting he gets a new speech writer.

y'all need 2 STOP hitting me w concepts i like this much i have 0 self control and WILL write every damn one of them. there are like 4 sitting in my inbox rn smh.

(by which i mean pls keep sending me concepts like this i love writing fotp drabbles)

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"What're you still doin' up?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up as she looked up; a small, tired smile graced her lips as Thomas entered their bedroom, shaking his blazer off as the door fell shut behind him. "Hey. I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "I've just been tying up a few final loose ends with what I've been working on before I go to sleep."

"Can it wait until the morning?" he asked. He laid his blazer on the back of a chair at the side of the room before immediately starting to loosen his tie. "It's gettin' late. And I miss spendin' time with you. You work too much."

She scoffed, but her smile was only growing at his words. "Did you, the President of the United States, just tell me that I work too much?" He rolled his eyes as she spoke, just discarding his tie on the floor beside their bed. "That really is rich coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want," he said, crossing the room to join her on their couch, "but you always overwork yourself, and you know it. You've been doin' it for as long as I've known you."

"Alright, I'll come to bed in a few minutes." He took a seat behind her, and when he rested his hand on her inner thigh, it sent shivers rippling across her skin. She looked up. "You go get some sleep. I'll finish this quickly. I promise."

"What're you workin' on, anyway?" She didn't protest when he withdrew the paper from her lap, glancing over it, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "Is this the address I'm givin' on Friday?"

"The very same."

"You shouldn't be losin' sleep over this," he said matter-of-factly, turning his head back toward her as he squeezed the top of her thigh lightly. "Either lose sleep spendin' time with your dear, sweet husband who's fucking sick of thinkin' about legislation, or just come to bed, hm?"

He passed her back the paper, instead looping an arm around her waist as he kicked his legs up onto their coffee table, and when he pulled her in to rest against his shoulder, she put up no protest.

"Just five more minutes. I promise." The barely-concealed yawn in her voice made Thomas look down at her skeptically.

"Alright, but I'm holdin' you to that. If you're still working in five minutes, I'll carry you to bed myself."

"No complaints here." She turned her head to kiss the corner of his mouth gently before she turned back to her paper, fidgeting with her red pen as she reached the last page of the document. Thomas's eyes had fallen shut; he was more than content to just sit there with her until she finished, as he had no desire whatsoever to think anymore about pushing his healthcare bill through Congress.

He opened his eyes when Y/N scoffed. Her pen ran down the page in a long slash, and she was pursing her lips as she jotted notes in the margins, but it made Thomas furrow his brow.

"Hey, now, what was so wrong with that paragraph?"

"Seriously?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing back at him. "You keep treating healthcare like it's some privilege that poor people should have to grovel at the feet of the rich to have access to. It can't be conditional like this."

"I'm not actin' like that," he defended. "I'm just sayin', hiking up taxes threefold isn't a sustainable way to fund this. It'd be an overreach from Congress. We've gotta use money efficiently."

"You fucking libertarian," she muttered. "The part of the bill about work requirements is gonna get killed in Congress. There's no way the House Democrats will vote to pass it unless you get rid of that."

"What's that got to do with my speech?"

"You're misrepresenting the legislation if you keep that paragraph," she said, proceeding to scribble out a sentence in the paragraph after. "And get rid of this. If you're trying to implement a public option, focusing on the private sector will get you nowhere. You're just gonna make people angry."

"I'm not 'misrepresenting' anything." He scowled. "Both those things are important for the bill."

"But this isn't a bill, Thomas; it's a speech," she huffed. "Anyway, the legislation needs to be universalized, or you can't 'mitigate poverty' how you claim to. Do you have any idea how many of the people who can't meet the work requirements on healthcare are going to end up in poverty because they can't afford the care they need?"

"I hear you," he started, "but this is the best way to make it more affordable without tankin' the economy."

"Have you even considered capital gains taxes?"

"That's gonna kill entrepreneurship."

"You're so full of it sometimes," Y/N scoffed. "'Entrepreneurs' won't be affected. It only affects, like, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, and they have so many assets that it literally doesn't matter."

"I'm not gonna sit here and argue with you about this. I'm not sayin' you're wrong, but I am sayin' this bill needs to be somethin' I can convince the Senate to pass," he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Then write a new bill that doesn't mean the people who are the worst off don't get coverage," she said, jotting that down on the side of the paper, "because this doesn't resolve the issue."

"I'll bring it up when I get the chance," he assured her, and she glanced back at him with a grateful smile. "Can I ask why this is so important to you?"

"Because I'm an empathetic person, and I care about people?" she replied, tone scathing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Woah, there. That wasn't an attack, sweetheart," he said. "What's got you worked up?"

"I'm not 'worked up,'” she bit back, but when he gave her an apologetic look, gaze soft, her annoyance began to subside. “This is just a sore subject for me." Y/N finally lowered the paper in her lap, turning her head toward Thomas. "I know I've told you about how long my parents spent in the hospital before they passed."

"Yeah. Yeah, you have," he said softly. He turned, orienting himself in Y/N's direction so he could pull her into his lap, and while she sighed, she laid back against his chest.

"When they died, I was left with most of their healthcare debt," she continued. "I was living far below the poverty line for almost a decade because of it."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she laced her fingers into his with his arms around her waist.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "I just don't want anyone else to end up in anything like the situation I was in. Nobody deserves that."

"No, they don't. I'll see what I can get past Congress." He kissed the side of her neck, and she hummed contentedly, squeezing his hands. "But I've still gotta discuss my plan for healthcare on Friday, so stop demolishing my speech."

"You asked me to look over it," she said frankly, and though her eyes had fallen shut when she laid against him, she cracked one open to glance at him skeptically. "These are my edits. Change the bill."

"That's an awful weighty edit, sweetheart."

"Hey, I also improved your phrasing," she went on, holding his paper up where they could both see it. "I'm making your speech better, don't complain about it."

"You cut my section about deductibles?"

"No one wants to talk about deductibles, babe." She tapped the paper with the back of her pen. "They want to know whether they'll be insured or not. They won't listen to the nuances of your bill in your public address. You're going to need a press release for that."

"And the part about family values?"

"It was useless." She shrugged. "I know you're just pandering to your party and all, but it sounded stupid in the context of the speech."

"Harsh," Thomas said, and the offense in his voice was mostly dramatized. Y/N pursed her lips. "But I can't be breachin' party lines in this speech. I'm not gonna get anything done if I turn the Senate Republicans against me."

"Listen, I'm not a political strategist, so that's your prerogative," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you don't like my feedback on your speeches, then hire a damn speechwriter, Thomas."

He hummed reluctantly. "But havin' you review my speeches gives me an excuse to spend more time with you. I don't have a whole lotta interest in having even longer meetings with White House staffers."

"Then take my edits to heart." She pursed her lips. "You know very well that I'm the only reason you have bipartisan support. If I didn't pick fights with you once a week about green energy, all the Democrats would still oppose all your stances on it."

"I'll look back over the speech in the mornin', then," he decided, and she shifted on the couch to face him, legs still draped over his lap. "I trust you."

"Good," she replied, and she looped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. "But stop exploiting my degree in journalism."

"I'm not exploitin' it."

"Then what do you consider asking your wife to edit your speeches pro-bono to be?"

"A nice li'l side effect of managin' to convince someone so smart to marry me." She laughed as he pulled her back in to kiss him, but she gasped when he bit her lip teasingly, and his mouth drifted down her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"I love you, too."

With that, Thomas hooked his arm up under her legs, and his smile widened against her neck when she yelped as he picked her up. "Now, I seem to remember sayin' something about carryin' you to bed if you were workin' for more than five minutes, so you don't get to negotiate anymore."

She squirmed in his grasp, but any of her efforts to get out of his arms weren't in earnest. She huffed. "So much for respecting personal liberty. Just wait until your voting bloc finds out all that rhetoric was just a lie."

"Oh, hush, let's not pretend you mind," he said as he tossed her down onto their bed, and she bounced when her back hit the mattress. He didn't hesitate to climb on after her. Though she tried to pull herself up to rest on the throw pillows, Thomas was on his hands and knees above her; she didn't have much of a range of movement when he dipped down to kiss her. "If you did, you wouldn't have married me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jefferson," she grumbled, despite wrapping her arms around his neck. "Talk all you want, but I dunno how smug you're gonna be when I up and leave you one of these days."

He grinned. "You know I don't buy that for a second." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward when he kissed her forehead. "You love me too much."

Despite everything, Y/N could feel herself flush. "Just go put on some pajamas so we can go to sleep."

"Alright, if you insist," he huffed, rolling off of her. "Be right back."

"You'd better hurry, or I might run off with Dolley and elope," she called after him, and Thomas laughed.

"'S cute, but we both know you aren't goin' anywhere."

"And why not?"

He raised a confident brow. "I'll tie you down if that's what it takes to keep you here, sweetheart."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she mumbled, turning to discard the throw pillows from the bed onto the floor.

When she looked back at him, his grin was still wide, smug, but the look in his eyes was soft. She pursed her lips as her own smile broadened. "Now go change. I'm not going to sleep without you."

"Fine. You need some rest.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

156 notes · View notes

vesperlionheart · 4 years

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Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move. For KisaSaku. :D

KisaSaku & a belated happy birthday for @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth!

(Sort of a companion fix to This One)

‘In matters of inheritance in the land of Kirigkure, the country is old and small enough to cultivate its leftover practices from the oldest days, when Kiri citizens had to fight tooth and nail to protect what was once only a small fishing inlet. Their monarchy equivalent is selected from the previous ruler and approved by a majority vote from the three departments.’

“It shouldn’t count until an official hearing is held to conclude such matters,” Sakura grumbled to mostly herself. Mei was the least sympathetic out of all her supporters when it came to Sakura’s mood and opinions on her stupid country inheritance.

When Mei heard Sakura’s grumbles she only giggled and added another ‘grievance’ scroll to the ever increasing pyramid of incoming missives that would need to be addressed by the end of the day. “Honestly, you have no one else to blame but yourself. What did you expect would happen when you arrived on our borders with all of Tsunade’s tutelage and the copy nin’s keen sense for seeing underneath the underneath? You thought we’d let you go?”

Speaking of Kakashi made Sakura remember the old man’s poor advice: “Just go and check them out. Get in a few fights, drink a little and show them how terrible of a leader you would really be.”

That had worked out terribly.

While Sakura was legally considered a citizen of Kiri, she had grow up outside its boarders and adapted to the culture of the Fire Country where it mattered to have manners with strangers. Her strategy had been to walk in with a buzz and a beer in hand, provoke a shop keep, fight a swordsman-a legendary swordsman-and curse her way out of town. Everything had been going tremendously well, except actually it hadn’t. Kiri was wet in more ways than one and Sakura had unwittingly impressed more than just a few curious eyes with her tolerance of the local booze. Shit talking was seen as a greeting amongst Kiri locals, and fighting might as well have been synonymous with hugging.

“They’ll kick you out soon enough and you’ll be back home before you know it.”

For not the first time, Sakura lamented Kakashi’s backhanded advice. When she berated him about it later on he only congratulated her on the revitalized economy, the updated hospitals, and all her efforts towards dismantling the caste system. Sakura’s protest that she never meant to do any of that fell on deaf ears.

The trial month was nearly over and plans had already been made to install her as their Mizukage, a position that would put her on par with her one time teacher, the Hokage in the Land of Fire. There was a lot of pomp and ceremony the elders were caught up in that pushed back the actual initiation-but the decision had been made and Sakura’s will was not enough to reject the concessions of the Trident-or the three seats of the Mizukage’s cabinet.

Mei made up the executive branch of the Trident, while the seven swordsmen made up the military branch. Yagura was the head of Economics and the mouthpiece of the Elders who weighed tradition against advancement. Sakura’s job would be to balance all three of their voices and carry the responsibility of any decision they came up with. Only a 3 to 1 vote could overrule a Mizuekage’s executive orders.

“Have you chosen your Second Shadow, yet?” Mei asked.

“I’m actually hoping that if I don’t that this whole party thing can get called off,” Sakura sassed back to Mei, already half finished with the next scroll and all but made up on her finial verdict for the request it presented.

“Have you looked at my boy?”

“Chōjūrō is a sweet kid and will make a fine swordsman one day,” Sakura answered diplomatically.

“But…?”

Sakura looked up and glared. “He’s as shy as an Angel Fish and he still somehow came up with the idea, completely on his own with no help from anyone, to wait for me in my hotel room in a silk robe and slippers and nothing else.” Sakura’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “I don’t take kindly to attempts of coercion.”

“The kid just wanted your favor and you would hold that against him?” Mei playfully teased.

“I didn’t appreciate it, Mei. Don’t bully your boy into my bed.”

Mei rolled her eyes and picked through the finished missives Sakura had set to the side. “He needed the encouragement. He wouldn’t have done it, even though he wanted to, without some help.”

“I’m not like you, I don’t enjoy robbing the cradle.”

Mei snorted. “Okay then, babe, tell auntie what your type is?”

Sakura paused and looked up over her next scroll. “Why?”

“Can’t you just believe I’m curious? Why do you have to sound so suspicious of every one of my questions? I’m honestly just curious.”

Sakura’s expression turned blank but Mei didn’t seem to care. “Sure, and my answer would have nothing to do with an attempt by you and the elders to set me up with a nice local boy who will convince me to stay. Suuuuure.”

“So if you’re not interested in our little prince, what abut the naughty type. Suigetsu doesn’t have anyone right now.”

“I thought you were trying to convince me to stay, not scare me off. That starfish can’t keep a relationship on lock for more than a month for a reason, and it isn’t the fault of any of his partners.”

“So the naughty type is a turn off. What about the daddy type?”

Sakura’s face made an expression of horror. “Gross.”

“Not literally a daddy, don’t look at me like that. You might be surprised so don’t knock it till you try it. I’ll put that down as a ‘maybe’ for now.”

“Please don’t.”

There was a knock on the door and Sakura shouted out for them to enter before Mei could even turn around. A half second later Sakura realized her mistake when she saw Mei’s gloating face. The office already felt like it was Sakura’s.

Damn.

“What?” Sakura barked a bit rudely when Yagura stopped in front of her desk.

“There’s an issue with deployment.”

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t Kisame and Zabuza usually the ones who tell me what’s shit with their nin?” Sakura dropped her scroll and leaned back in her seat before waving for him to continue. “What is it?”

If Yagura was bothered by her rude address he didn’t let it show on his face and he never let it carry over into their conversations outside of work. “More of the Kaguya raiders are making issues for the settlements but we don’t have the resources to send out anyone to deal with it. Kisame and Zabuza are both off on missions you approved.”

“This really requires an S ranked response?” Sakura asked, knowing there were few others who could do what Kisame and Zabuza did. If Yagura was asking for either of them he deemed the threat S ranked.

“I’ve already written up the details of the response we’d need.” Yagura produced a thinner scroll and Sakura took it as it passed over her desk.

“If we didn’t have one of the swordsmen on this we’d need at least two dozen nin and we just don’t have those kind of numbers right now.”

“What’s the best we can do?” Sakura asked while rolling back in her chair to check the chart on the wall with a dozen different secret symbols that helped keep her up to date on the military numbers. It showed how many nin of different rank were deployed, how many were wounded, how many were undercover, and how many were available for deployment. It still took Sakura a minute to decipher everything on the chart but she would have it like a reflex by the end of the month.

“Eight.”

Sakura made a face. Eight was a really low number and it was her fault they were in this situation in the first place. She had gambled and played the number game with her nin. Kiri always needed a coalition of soldiers to defend it in case of invasion, and so even if there were over two dozen shinobi at home, she couldn’t touch those.

“Kisame is due back this afternoon, how time sensitive is this issue?”

“It depends on how much the lives of these colonists matter. They’re notorious for skirting on tax payments and regularly sell their produce to rival groups before our citizens.”

“But they are our citizens,” Sakura clarified. They lived outside the walls of Kiri and were largely bitter old marsh farmers and fishermen, but they were culturally more Kiri than Sakura.

“It would be a shame to loose their assets,” Yagura honestly answered. “The Kaguya clan would only grow emboldened if they took over the rest of this territory for themselves.”

Sakura was already standing, pulling off her robes. “Mei, tell Kisame to head over to the settlements as soon as he gets here, even if he’s on fumes. Just the sight of his big blue mug will send some of them running.”

“What are you doing?” Mei asked, eyes wide.

“I’m dealing with this. I still have my rank from Konoha. I should be sufficient with these four,” Sakura said while showing off the mission scroll with her name and four others filled in. “I’ll let them know personally. Yagura will-”

“I understand. I’ll stand in until you’re back.”

“You can’t leave, you’re our Mizukage,” Mei agrued. “That’s against customs. If you fall-”

“I’m not Mizukage yet and you still can’t tell me what to do,” Sakura warned before stalking out of the office with hands itching for a fight.

Hours later her Kabutowari was soaked with blood on both ends, both the hammer and the axe head had been fed enough blood and savagery to sate its appetite for carnage. Sakura was proud of their success and how cheep it cost. Not a single soul on her unit had been seriously wounded or lost and that was quite an accomplishment considering the Kaguya attacked in bands of eight to twelve.

“It’s cause we got to fight with our Mizuekage that our moral was so high,” old man Jinin cheered, looking ready for a stiff drink and maybe an audience who could listen to his tall tales and elaborations on the day’s battle.

Haku came up beside Sakura and touched her elbow to get her attention and she leaned in while he whispered the status of the nin’s health along with the injury inventory. It was a new step Sakura wanted utilized when units emerged from battle. If hospital records could be updated with a complete list of all injuries-including those treated and healed on the battlefield- it would help in future diagnostics.

Haku had helped develop the program and sell it to the other medic trained min. He had been invaluable in helping roll out new changes and on the battlefield his skill set had complemented her fighting style well, since he was more of a long range fighter while Sakura liked to deal damage up close.

“We’re good to go then,” Sakura sighed. “I’m tired. Someone treat me to hot saké once we’re back,” she playfully whined only to get a roar from the men and women on her team.

Haku kept close to her side and walked with her until they got to the natural mist. Sakura gave the signal and the rest of her team blurred into the fog and took off like birds in a dive, unseen and deadly.

“You wanted to ask me something?” Haku queried.

Sakura was about to say yes but something else caught her eye and she pat Haku’s back in dismissal. “It can wait until after we’re back. I need to catch Kisame up but I’ll see you at the Drunken Whaler.”

Haku turned and saw Kisame emerging from he fog with the blood and grime from his last fight still stuck to his uniform. The two locked eyes and Haku nodded first before taking off.

“So, are you slipping for any particular reason or are you just getting old?” Sakura teased while approaching Kisame.

“Hey, no jokes about my age when my boss orders me to pull a double shift. Slave driver actually expected me to do some good here. Shows you what she knows.”

“Maybe she just wanted you to see what she could do, ever consider that?” Sakura teased back, shouldering her Kabutowar’s axe end on her shoulder while she carried the hammer half with an idle swing in her left hand. The weight never bothered her but she wondered how her weapon would react to a new pair of hands.

“How willing are you listen to your bad ass boss?” Sakura asked.

“You mean my hard ass boss?” Kisame teased back. “Dunno, it depends on the request. Does it involve drinking?”

“Eventually all decisions and requests involve drinking, but not yet. We can get sloshed at the Drunken Whaler with the rest of them but before we get that far…” Sakura rolled the axe head off her shoulder and held it out. “Wanna trade?”

Kisame whistled low and reached up to rub at some of the blood on his chin with the heel of his hand. The twilight was creeping in but the clouds were heavy and low so everything shaded in tones of gray and diluted yellow. Sakura saw a fragment of that sunken gold color in Kisame’s shark eyes when he looked at her weapon, but she wished he’d been looking at her.

He reached over his shoulder and rolled Samehada off his back, letting the bandages drop. The trade off was as natural as any other tradeoff would be between the swordsmen. If the seats hadn’t been filled Sakura might have replaced Haku as a swordsman, since she had a legendary blade and he didn’t. If she had been a swordsman she might have had the chance to do this earlier and with more than just Zabuza’s Kubikiribōchō, but she wasn’t a swordsman and this wasn’t a guaranteed thing.

“Thank you,” Sakura said before Kabutowari finished leaving her hand.

“Careful with him, Samehada can-oh, ya know, never mind. He’s a bitch that’s roll over for anyone with tasty chakra, I shouldn’t have worried for ya,” he chuckled while watching the handoff.

With issue, Sakura held the massive blade level and admired its scale pattern in the gray twilight. There was a delightful shiver as it sucked on her chakra and swallowed it down like a drunk with fine wine. Sakura could feel it purr not unlike how Kabutowari would in her mind once they were linked.

“Let’s see how you like this,” Sakura cooed before swinging Kisame’s blade against the wind and stepping into the dance she had first learned for Kabutowari with minor adjustments since she was wilding Samehada in one hand. She felt it tense and almost cut at her hand but settled down as it realized what she was playing at.

Samehada cut into the fog and then shaved it down into a finer mist before wrapping it up around Sakura the way the first swordsmen would, back in the old days when chakra was still too wild to name and gods dared to walk amongst the children of men.

Through the mist and over her shoulder Sakura could see Kisame have fun on his own, dancing through the same steps with her two handed Kabutowari, showing mastery of the finer points in spite of his bulk. At first glance Kabutowari seemed too heavy and burly a weapon to expect any delicacy with, but if one wanted to unlock it’s full potential they would have to know more than just the brutal steps that wrought the most damage, they would need to know how to dance and make both the axe and hammer sing.

She watched Kisame twist through her steps like a ghost of her old master’s memory and watched, transfixed, as he let go of the axe side to swing around and snap back with perfect timing.

“Jealous?” the voice in her mind purred. Samehada helped himself to a drop more of her chakra as she paused in her steps.

“No, I know Kabutowari is my blade and he’ll return to me in time. There’s no reason to be jealous of your master for handling my blade so well.”

“Didn’t mean Kabutowari,” Samehada chuckled so deeply it made Sakura’s mind feel like a cavern with no end. A half second later she realized what Kisame’s blame meant and she giggled, almost manic at the implication.

“No,” she hissed through his stifled giggle. “No way, not you too. Leave me alone and let me have my fun.”

“Don’t see a reason you can’t have it both ways,” Samehada teased, poking at her palm but doing no real damage.

It wouldn’t hurt her if she could hear its voice and give him her chakra to sip on, but even if tried she’d be able to heal such a modest attack. There wasn’t any real danger to her from Samehada, but she felt unbalanced by his words enough to step out of the old steps and swing the monster blade down against the earth with a surge of chakra that split the earth.

She heard his excited cheer and delighted cackle as he served as the conduit to her legendary chakra release. Sounding almost drunk it asked for her to do that again but Kisame was already laughing at her and that was the only sound she could pay attention to.

“I think I’ve had enough fun for one night,” Sakura said with a tired laugh, hopping over to Kisame’s side with his sword. The exchange was easier this time but before Kisame could press Kabutowari into her hand their fingers touched enough for Sakura to feel where all his blisters had hardened into callouses. Even down the sides of his fingers she could feel the evidence of his devotion to the blade and she wondered, wickedly, what it would feel like to be handled by hands like that.

“Naughty,” Samehada purred to her before their link was severed. Sakura felt her face roar with heat and embarrassment, which she tried to play off by jumping back with Kabutowari and a nervous chuckle. Her weapon purred in confusion and almost understood but Sakura sealed him away into one of her pocket dimension before he could scream out the truth like an echo in her mind.

Damn, dirty thoughts-this was all Mei’s fault for planting the seeds in the first place.

Sakura ran her hands through the fog and then combed them through hair, grateful for the cool the almost night allowed. She knew she didn’t have a ‘pretty’ blush like some other girls. She went beat red and it was almost impossible to hide.

“We should head back, we’ve held back long enough the others might get worried. Plus, I wasn’t exactly quiet just now,” Sakura said.

“Aww boss, don’t make this old man run all the way back after I ran all the way out here only to be late,” Kisame playfully whined.

“What, you want to walk back. That’ll take forever,” Sakura said.

“Not for the whole while, but we can run off later. Can’t we just take it easy for a little while?” he asked.

Only because he asked Sakura agreed.

After a minute Kisame spoke up. “So the word going around is that you haven’t picked a second yet. Don’t you have any ideas or is no one willing to take on the load? You’re kinda a slavedriver.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“What are you thinking about.”

Sakura made a face, not knowing if he was teasing or being serious with his question. “It’s so different compared to Leaf, I mean this second almost feels like a marriage partner according to Mei, and it’s kinda serious enough that the thought process is similar. You pick someone and then they’re with you the whole time, nearly day and night, and that’s similar to how Shizune was for Tsunade, but…I don’t know, the cultures are different.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Kisame chuckled. “When Kiri loses a kage it’s tits up and everything goes to shit real quick-we know because we’ve seen it more than any of the other hidden villages. More assignations mean more hard lessons learned.”

“But does it have to be one person? Tsunade had ANBU who were rotated out all the time.”

“Yeah but that’s such a shit idea here. If I wanted to kill the Hokage I’d just impersonate an ANBU and wait in rotation until I was alone with-ah, don’t give me that face, I’m just saying hypothetical things.”

“It’s not so easy to infiltrate ANBU.”

“You say that like we haven’t ever done that,” Kisame snorted and then when he saw Sakura’s face he laughed. “Nothing so bad, boss, nothing so bad! You’ll see for yourself when you get access after inauguration, but those ain’t your people no more. You are ours.”

There were a few too many things making Sakura’s gut church with complicated feelings. What Kisame said about belonging to Kiri was right and it hurt, not because she hated being accepted, but because of what it meant for her ties to everyone back home-back in Konoha. Tsunade and Kakashi were her teachers but they couldn’t call her their disciple anymore. For the sake of the future of their foreign policy, Sakura had watched as the steps were taken to cut her off from the village hidden in the leaves until there was only one place she could run to. It wasn’t a vicious thing and there was nothing personal about it. Sakura actually understood why they did what they did-changing out the codes and locking her out of accessing ANBU updates.

Kiri was supposed to be her home now…her village.

“Boss?”

“You know you can call me by my name when it’s just us,” Sakura said instead, trying to sound annoyed so he didn’t misunderstand the meaning of her words and think she wanted him to speak to her familiarly. “Boss makes me feel like an old lady.”

The other feelings that made her gut churn came from the last thing he said to her. “You are ours.” Someone once said the people in Kiri were a people who knew loss to well to share decently in the future, thus they were a possessive people who coveted many things.

“Then Haruno kun-”

“Haruno kun?” Sakura sputtered. “What are you my uncle? No-ugh, you’re-oh man I had a teacher who would call me Haruno kun in school back when we were in the academy. You’re banned from the ‘-kun,’ if you’re gonna tack something on at least make it sound cute.”

“Sakura chan?” Kisame playfully called out, pitching his voice high and squeaking out the title.

“Never mind, I take it back, just Haruno or just Sakura, but nothing else. Gosh, I thought someone said that in Kiri they didn’t have manners or shit. Just call me whatever, I don’t care,” Sakura said even though she cared.

“Then Haruno, who do you think would be a good candidate for second. You’ll pick from the swordsmen right? Where else would you go?”

“Mei wanted me to go with her boy Chōjūrō but can you see that working out?”

“That jellyfish?” Kisame hooted. “He’s as shy as an Angel Fish. You’d eat him alive for breakfast.”

“I live to entertain,” Sakura mocked with a silly bow. “But you’ve got a point about pulling from the swordsmen. What would that do to your seats? Would you replace whoever left or take in someone new?”

“Maybe Chōjūrō,” Kisame joked.

“He’s an excellent fighter, he just doesn’t have a future in politics,” Sakura defended. “I could see him growing into that role.”

Kisame watched Sakura a half minute longer before saying anything new. The sun was half sunk into the horizon and all the mist seemed to choke on dying colors as they waded through the distortion.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

“I have ideas but I don’t want to have ideas since I don’t like this whole set up. If it was up to me and the elders didn’t insist on tradition, I’d just have the Seven of you on rotation as my guard.”

Kisame made a thoughtful sound. “That could work as a back up, but you know how those old tradition fogies are.”

Sakura rubbed at her neck and looked ahead. “I need a drink. Race you back?”

“Ah, but I’m all tired from-” Kisame never finished his sentence since he chose that moment to flash step forward and take off running. Sakura cursed and raced behind him but came last and ended up having to buy a round for everyone at the pub.

When Kisame woke a week later he was wide eyed and energized, which was a rare thing for him these days. He normally hated mornings but the sight of his fresh dress uniform hanging up was enough to make him remember why today was such a big deal. It wasn’t just any other day, it was Sakura’s inauguration.

The whole of Kiri was hyped as fuck for a new Mizukage like Sakura, one who revitalized their economy and recovered their crumbling hospital system. The fact that she was the wielder of Kabutowari made it feel like a long lost child coming home from the war with spoils to share with the whole country. Sakura felt like she had always been theirs, like Kiri had always been her home. Even when she had been trying to piss people off and get out of the inheritance she had fit in too well. Her brash personality and strong convictions made her-

“Perfect,” Kisame said out loud, a little too caught up in his thoughts.

He grimaced a the sound of his thoughts and moved to wash up before dressing for the day. He needed to finish waking up or else he was bound to say something else equally stupid. Today was too important to look like a fool.

In short order he was as handsome as he’d ever get with an ugly mug like his and dressed for the occasion. Samehada fit into the latch carrier on his back and outside he saw the others waiting in the courtyard to the mansion where Sakura would start her procession.

Already, people were filling the streets in hopes of catching an eyeful of their new Mizukage on her first day on the job. Some were selling flowered crowns and wreaths as the newest trend had been to emulate Sakura’s flowery good looks. Young girls were cutting their hair like her and boys were dreaming about an impossible future among the swordsmen because of her. There was a building that had been painted with a modest mural of Sakura trees and different blooming flowers in celebration. The love his people had for her was everywhere.

“You’re not late,” Suigetsu taunted.

Kisame punched the younger boy in the face, ignoring both Suigetsu and his brother in favor of seeking out Zabuza. “Hey, you hear anything yet?”

“No one here knows who’s getting the nomination, that hasn’t changed,” Zabuza answered.

“Did you sign the consent form?” Haku asked, lookin up at Zabuza first and then Kisame. The consent form was basically a way those with the qualifications could put their name in the hat that Sakura could pull from.

“On day one, brat. Why, you didn’t?”

“I…I mean I eventually put my name in for consideration. I think I’d do well at it,” Haku answered, steeling his words towards the end even if he kept glancing back at Zabuza.

Between the seven of them, the only one Kisame seriously considered a challenge was Zabuza when it came to winning Sakura’s second. The pair of them were the strongest, arguably, and had a good working relationship with others. But, between the both of them, Kisame knew he was the only one who had been on Sakura’s side since day one when she first arrived. Even if Zabuza had been won over and was loyal now, no one had been in Sakura’s corner like Kisame.

Kisame thought his chances were good.

“Get in your dame spots,” Ameyuri snapped with a dangerous edge. Since Sakura had cured Ameyuri’s disease the kunoichi was near fanatical in her devotion to Sakura. When Kisame pretended to drag his feet Ameyuri snapped her sharpened teeth at his face and he backed up with a chuckle.

The doors to the mansion opened and the elders filtered out before Yagura and Mei. Yagura and Mei paused at the top of the stairs before joining the elders in the courtyard where their respective bodyguards were stationed. That’s when Sakura emerged at the top of the stairs to the mansion and the moment Kisame thought his heart was going to stop.

The robes had never looked so good on anyone before. Underneath the white and blue folds a soft dress of flaring gray and white, detailed with pearls and accented with a thick mother of pearl gorget around her neck, like the kind samurai would wear of a heartier material. It was ceremonial but Sakura wore it like armor.

The bells on her hat tinkled as she descended the steps and took her spot at the head of the group. Her painted lips were pressed into a hard line and her jaw was set with determination, but she still looked soft where it counted.

Kisame caught her eye at one point and it made his smile grow when the corners of her eyes crinkled for him.

“Haruno Sakura…” one of the elders began.

The ceremony lasted no longer than twenty minutes before Sakura was told to turn around and address the others. “And in line with the traditions of our ancestors, I will honor them with this choice and accept a second. Should I ever fall may their strength be measured by the gods and men,” she recited perfectly. Then she locked her lips and held up a hand before adding, “and in addition to a second I will be installing a rotating support guard for the Mizukage, with the blessing of the elders who safeguard our traditions. Every member of the Seven Swordsmen will rotate into the role of a tertiary figure of my inner circle, behind my second.”

Beside him Ameyuri gasped in delight, suddenly filled with hope that even if she wasn’t chosen she would still be able to serve her idol.

“Mizukage, your pick for second shadow?” one of the elders prompted.

Sakura nodded and the bells on her hat tinkled. “For my second shadow I have chosen Yuki Haku to serve me. Yuki Haku do you accept?”

That…didn’t… make sense. Kisame snuggled to hear what Sakura said next as Haku approached her and knelt before accepting the mother of pearl pin with the symbol of Second Shadow. Haku said something back to her, maybe in thanks, but all Kisame could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as his gut churned in a grief he couldn’t understand.

#Kisame #KisaSaku #Sakura #Fanfiction #my writing #ask #darth-salem-emperor-of-earth #kisame hoshigaki #Haruno Sakura

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hotchley · 3 years

Note

HI HOMIE I'M SUPPOSED TO BE OFF TUMBLR BUT I HAVE A QUICK QUESTION:

(THIS IS URGENT I'M SORRY FOR ALL CAPS I LOVE YOU SUMAYYAH) it would be great if you could answer them within the next 12 hours BUT IF NOT IT'S FINE TOO no pressure!!! (my presentation is tomorrow morning and my group has decided to change examples last minute SOOOOO)

it's for a school research presentation assignment on the effects of mass media on science — basically, i have to find out about how mass media (e.g. social media platforms, traditional news outlets, etc) has affected the area of science? kinda.

and i was wondering if you could share some insights with me as to how the situation is like on your end (WAIT did i remember wrongly you're in the UK..... or did i hallucinate you saying it once)

(but even if you're not from the UK, please i would love to hear your experience!!!) questions to be answered:

- how is the situation in the UK (or wherever you're from) like?

- are misinformation/rumours regarding covid/the vaccines rampant in the UK (or your country)?

- have you personally come across any of such instances/messages/posts online?

- how have they affected you/your family/your neighborhood/your society? (e.g. people's opinions & thoughts regarding the current government officials/system, regarding the vaccine, regarding the pandemic as a whole, or any other social issues that may have surfaced during this period of time)

I'm so sorry for the use of capital letters & for this non cm, non Hotch content omg but you're like the only other person i can go to to "survey" like this 😭 I LOVE YOU and i wish you all the best

pls rmb to stay hydrated too babe I love you so much muah

🌙

Hi I'm putting everything below the keep reading for easy scrolling x

I'm hoping it hasn't been twelve hours... I'm convinced it hasn't. Okay, let's go! Why did they wait so long to change, that doesn't make any sense- okay, anyways, good luck!!

That seems really cool!

I do live in the UK :)

1. it's.... well, it's a bit all over the place. In England (where I live) all restrictions have been lifted so there are no masks required anywhere, and the isolation rules have been changed but the number of cases seem to be rising slightly, but then people are getting vaccinated, and more people are also fully vaccinated, so... yeah. It's weird. They've started vaccinating the under-18s as well!

2. I wouldn't say rampant, but they're definitely there. There were reports of people protesting, and some areas definitely have a lower vaccine take up, and there are also age groups that seem to be taking it less. There's definitely been a lot of rumours about what covid actually does, and people still don't think it's real. There was an incident a few weeks ago, where people were protesting the vaccine and an ex-nurse who spread misinformation said some absolutely horrific things...

3. I have. But actually, a lot of the misinformation and conspiracies I've seen online have been on TikTok, and have therefore tended to come from American people instead of British. My dad has been forwarded a lot of WhatsApp videos about how you don't need to get vaccinated- he deleted them and is fully vaccinated, but still.

3. Okay so some of my family now despise the tories even more than they did before. Others haven't really changed their views, because they're rich enough to actually benefit from the tories being in power (don't ask me how) and think the government did their best. I think it proved to a lot of people that the government really do not care about the future. They were willing to let children starve, they screwed an entire cohort of A-Levels over, and they really only care if you can afford to give them more money.

It's made the people in my life more aware of the role class and race play when it comes to medical care, and it also showed a lot of them how willing the government were to put the economy ahead of people's lives.

When it comes to the vaccine, a decent amount of people in my family got vaccinated, but the running theme there tends to be: public sector or clinically vulnerable. My dad works in education, my sister in healthcare and my mum was shielding. They all got vaccinated. I did as well when it became an option (my arm still hurts like a bitch lol)

But other people in my family have seen misinformation and now don't want to get vaccinated because they think they'll be safe/they heard and believe the conspiracy theories. I also have friends that are going to wait to get vaccinated because they're not convinced it's actually safe for the under-18s. My mum has a friend that will forward the anti-vaxxer videos etc, because she believes them and is firmly against getting any sort of vaccine for anything. So yeah! I hope that answers your questions, if you have anymore, just ask!

Good luck with the presentation! I'm sure you're going to do great <3

Ahh, don't apologise. We can discuss everything here. I hope I'm able to help :)

Love you too x

#🌙anon #people talk to me

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megabadbunny · 4 years

Text

No Place Like Hohm (8/8)

“Ready?” the Doctor asked Rose.

She beamed at him. “Ready.”

***

(Aka the obligatory post-GitF fic, for anyone else who ever wondered what might have taken place between a trip to France and an adventure in a parallel universe.)

***

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Chapter 8

This time, Rose smiled as she stepped outside into the city. The planet Hohm looked much the same as it had a few days prior—clear blue skies, three moons shining overhead, colorful pennants waving lazily in the breeze, white buildings practically glowing in the sun—but there seemed to be a little extra pep in everyone’s step, as the people and horse-people bustled about their business. Maybe Rose was just imagining it, but she didn’t think so.

“So,” she said, a grin spreading across her face as she turned to Dyana and Vareem. The two of them grinned at her in return, standing tall and proud in their elegant ceremonial Council robes; it was a look they were both well-suited-for, Rose thought. “Ready for your next adventure?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Dyana firmly, as Vareem said, “Not even a little bit,” and they both burst out laughing.

“At least we look the part,” Vareem chuckled, plucking at her robes. “That counts for something, right?”

Rose laughed. “Absolutely. That, and confidence, and cleverness, and a good heart. Luckily, you two have got all four in spades.”

“Oh, stop,” said Vareem. “You’re making me blush!”

“And if all else fails, you can always take the Doctor’s advice and just walk about like you own the place,” Rose told them. “Cos, I guess you sort of do, now?”

“And it’s about time we left you to it,” piped up the Doctor’s voice; Rose turned to see him waltzing lazily in her direction, Mickey following close after. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Dyana frowned. “You’re not leaving already?”

“Of course we are,” the Doctor said pleasantly. “We’ve done about all the damage we can do round here, best leave it in the hands of the experts now. Besides, you’ll be far too busy to notice us being gone, what with your planet to rule and your people to help and your rotten system of oppression to dismantle.”

“And don’t forget about the Championship, while you’re at it,” added Mickey. “Might want to consider taking a sledgehammer to that thing.”

“Actually,” Vareem replied hesitantly, “we’re thinking we might keep it.”

Mickey’s eyes widened in alarm and Rose and the Doctor both stared at her, nonplussed. “Come again?” asked the Doctor, eyebrow arching sharply.

“Look, much as I hate to admit it, the Council was right about one thing,” said Dyana. “There’s a lot of money in the Championship. The Council was a bunch of greedy prigs about it all, but that money could really help our people—boost our economy, lift the town out of poverty, get everyone back on their feet.”

“And make technology available to everyone who wants it,” Vareem interjected.

“Besides, the idea of the Championship isn’t bad—it’s just the way the Council ran it,” Dyana continued.

Mickey and the Doctor didn’t look convinced, but Rose was patient. She nodded at Dyana and Vareem, urging them to continue.

“See, this time around, no one’s gonna be forced into anything. It’s all voluntary. You pay to get in, or you sponsor someone else getting in, or you pay to watch it all live,” Dyana explained. “And there’s no deadly weapons, no bride-prizes, no killing. Just people competing against other people. Just regular sports, really.”

Vareem nodded. “The groundwork’s already all laid out. A couple of easy adjustments and you’ve got something that’s, y’know, actually fun for everyone involved. We’ll just recenter the event on showcasing everyone’s athletic skills, just for the prestige of it.”

Mickey’s face lit up at that. “So it really is your planet’s version of the Olympics!” he laughed. “That’s pretty awesome!”

“It is indeed,” added the Doctor, beaming. “Well done, you two! Really well done.”

Dyana and Vareem both laughed, Vareem shaking her head, smiling shyly. But Dyana quieted down before too long, her expression growing thoughtful. “Seriously, though,” she said, her voice deep with sincerity. “Thank you all, for everything you did for us.”

“Absolutely,” Vareem chimed in. “Thank you so much!”

“Rose, you especially,” Dyana added, taking Rose’s hands in hers. “Just—thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Rose laughed. “I hardly did anything!”

“Not true,” Dyana told her firmly. “See, my sister and I had been planning things for ages, yeah, but when she—after—”

She swallowed, eyes clenching shut, and Vareem grasped her shoulder, humming in sympathy.

“After my sister was killed,” Dyana started again, and her voice only shook a little, “I was just...lost. I didn’t know what to do, except go on with the plans we’d made. I felt like I owed it to her, to try. I mean, she died trying to make things better for the two of us. For everyone in the city, really. So if I couldn’t carry on for me, I could at least do it for her, you know? But I was just going through the motions. It didn’t feel like anything was possible, without her. I’d lost hope. Truly.”

She squeezed Rose’s hands, tears welling up in her eyes. “Then I met you, and I saw how hard you fought for everything, no matter how bad things seemed to be, no matter how helpless or hopeless. You kept pushing on. You never gave up. Not ever.”

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “You helped me have hope again, Rose.”

Feebly, Rose started to protest—she didn’t deserve such praise, really she didn’t—but her gaze flickered to the Doctor to the Doctor’s just briefly, and she was surprised to see him softer than usual, somehow, a warm grin playing across his face. Like he knew something, maybe, that Rose didn’t.

Like maybe Dyana was right.

Rose’s smile deepened, and she felt a prickle of moisture behind her own eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly, squeezing Dyana’s hands in return.

“I just thought you were sort of neat,” Vareem interjected and the three of them laughed again.

Brushing away her unshed tears, Rose lunged for Dyana and Vareem, looping her arms about both of them in a snug embrace. “You’re both brilliant, you know that, right?” she asked, hugging them both fiercely. “You’re gonna do great things here. You’re gonna make your sister proud.”

Both women hugged her back, just as tightly. “I really hope so,” said Dyana.

“Well, I just so happen to know so,” piped up the Doctor, “because I’m fairly certain we’re about to enter Hohm’s New Enlightenment, more or less.”

“Hey, now!” protested Mickey. “Are we allowed to say things like that?”

“Oh no, not at all,” the Doctor replied. “Anyhoo! Time to hit the open road, put the pedal to the metal, we’re burnin’ daylight here. Time’s a-wastin’.” The Doctor clapped his hands in illustration. “Let’s get this show on the road. Chop chop!”

Mickey and the Doctor both turned toward the TARDIS, but before she had a chance to move away, Dyana reached out to Rose for another hug. Rose happily accepted, squeezing tightly.

“That Doctor bloke’s hopelessly in love with you,” Dyana whispered in her ear. “You know that, right?”

Rose’s mouth fell open in response. Dyana pulled back with a saucy little wink. Rose’s cheeks flushed hotly in a way that had nothing to do with the sun beaming overhead.

“Stay out of trouble, yeah?” Dyana added, grinning cheekily.

Stepping back, Rose laughed. “No promises,” she said, hands spread wide as she stepped closer to the TARDIS.

“That’s my girl!” Dyana called out, and Vareem blew her a kiss as the TARDIS doors closed.

“That’s it, then?” Mickey asked once they’d entered the Vortex, after the central column stopped grinding and the TARDIS calmed to its usual soothing hum. “We just pop in, have a bit of an adventure, then boom, we’re done, off to the next thing?”

“That’s it,” said the Doctor happily. He bounded round the console as he pressed a button here, threw a lever there. “All round the universe, anywhere and everywhere and everywhen and everything in-between.”

“Never a dull moment, huh?”

“Not with Rose and the Doctor!” the Doctor replied.

“And Mickey,” added Rose, laughing as she climbed up the stairs to the console.

“If you insist,” said the Doctor, and Mickey rolled his eyes. “Now the only question is: what next?”

Rose made a show of pretending to consider as she rounded the console, slowly approaching Mickey. “What, or where, or when?” she asked the Doctor, her tongue peeking out between her teeth.

“Any and all of the above,” said the Doctor, grinning. “Astrion’s still on the table, you know. Or Kabos Prime. Or ancient Egypt! Ooh, ancient Egypt. Who doesn’t love a good sarcophagus every now and then?”

Laughing, Rose nudged Mickey’s shoulder with hers. “Remember your Egypt phase, when you first saw Indiana Jones? This’d be right up your alley, I reckon!”

“Well, yeah,” said Mickey thoughtfully. “But what about you, babe?”

“What about me?”

Mickey shrugged. “You said one day, remember? One day, and then you were going home. Back to the Estate.” He crossed his arms, leaning back on the railing. “You still wanna go home?”

It took a second for the words to sink in, for Rose to remember. Her grin faltering just a little bit, Rose glanced over at the Doctor, before she had a chance to think better of it. Normally he might be fussing about the console right now, making a show of being busy while he pretended not to overhear such a conversation. But now, his hands were still, his attention focused solely on her, his face carefully impassive. Neutral. Watching. Waiting.

(Some things, Sarah Jane had told her, are worth getting your heart broken for.

Rose wondered if those words had been meant for the Doctor, as well.)

She smiled.

“Nah, we can always squeeze in another trip or two, or three,” Rose told Mickey, after a moment. “I’m not in any rush,” she said casually, looking at the Doctor.

The Doctor grinned at her, that soft, quiet grin, again, same as the one she saw before. She thought she might see something loosen in him, just a little bit.

“Quite right, too,” he replied softly.

“All right, cool,” said Mickey, blissfully oblivious to the exchange that had just taken place. “So, ancient Egypt, then? I’d love to see the pyramids. Or a real-live pharaoh, even!”

“Excellent!” the Doctor laughed. He flipped a few switches and the central column lit up, starting its telltale grind and groan. “Ancient Egypt it is, then! You lot ready?”

“Ready!” called Mickey.

“Ready?” the Doctor asked Rose.

She beamed at him. “Ready.”

“Fantastic,” said the Doctor. He pulled a lever on the console and the central column glowed golden, churning; the TARDIS shook and groaned all around them, sailing on the waves of the Vortex, on and out to the next adventure.

The Doctor whooped. “Allons-y!”

***

Find me on AO3! ❤︎

#picandchips #ficandchips #tenrose #tenxrose #ten x rose #it is probably not a great time of night to post this #but i spent the last like 6 hours updating the artwork and I WANNA POST NOW BY GUM #XD #post-gitf #post-gitf fixit #fluff #mbb fic #rose x ten #rose tyler #tenth doctor #mickey smith

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actuallyahorsewrites · 4 years

Text

Flash Fiction Challenge Day 1

An impulse buy starts an intergalactic war

Flash Fiction Writing Challenges

Day 1

An impulse buy leads to intergalactic warfare

Kali was screaming about something. Since Kali was always screaming about something, Tanis generally tended to ignore them.

However, when Kali was screaming and there were alarms blaring and lights flashing, maybe he should be paying more attention. That was usually a good idea.

It was hard to focus, however, when there was someone flying directly behind them shooting at them.

Tanis found it very hard to concentrate on mundane things like lectures when his life was on the line.

Änd you're not even listening to me, are you!"Kali bellowed. "I don't believe this! You go and steal a thrice blasted starship, and somehow I am going to be the one blown up for it!"”

"”Hey!" Tanis protested. "I paid for this thrice blasted starship!"

Thrice Blasted. Now that was a good ship name. Kali always had a way of naming things.

Kali snorted. The noise was lost to the blaring klaxon alarms.

"We are going to die,"they declared. They were rather dramatic at times. Usually when Tanis was trying his hardest to concentrate on not getting them blown up.

"Think of it this way," Tanis said in what he hoped was a consoling tone. "If this thrice blasted ship blows up, I'll die too!"

From the look on Kali's face, that was not as endearing as Tanis had hoped.

Oh well, Tanis thought. He tried.

He executed a rather perfect barrel roll in efforts to avoid a new blast of laser fire and pressed some buttons on the console. He really hoped this thrice blasted ship had some decent shields. Dying would put a damper on his day.

And the day had started out so well, too. Tanis had gotten a vidcom from one of his old flings saying he found a great deal on an old star cruiser. It was a vintage, Intergalactic War III fighter, complete with the classic stencil paint jobs and matching outfits. It was any collector's dream, and it came at the magically low price of within Tanis' price range.

A short conversation (argument) with Kali about the wonders of finances, a small makeout session (okay, it was a blatant hookup in a broom closet, and man if it wasn't one of Tanis' top fantasies), and some small amount of finagling later, Tanis and Kali were sailing out of the Laser City Star Port in Tanis' brand new to him star cruiser.

In retrospect, Tanis thought as he engaged evasive maneuvers, perhaps he shouldn't have hooked up with his ex. No matter how fine. He was fairly certain Carl was part of the Intergalactic Crime Syndicate. Or a spy ring. It was hard to keep track. Hookups usually ended badly.

There was another roar of laser fire, this time coming from the direction in which Tanis was flying. This brought about another round of swearing from Kali and the errant thought in Tannis' head of isn't space supposed to be silent?

The star cruiser shook violently as the shields began failing. Maybe flying a vintage ship out of port without having a mechanic look at it first had been a bad idea.

"You're just figuring that out now?" Kali screamed.

Apparently, Tanis hadn't thought that. Or, rather, he had, just out loud, where everyone could hear him.

Another stray thought crossed his mind -- hadn't there been something on the news recently about a vintage star cruiser being a bargaining chip between the Lars Colonists and Meridian City? Tanis couldn't quite remember the details--he hated watching the news, especially where politics were concerned--but there was something about….

His blood froze in a way that was completely unrelated to the hull breach alarm starting to blare. He and Kali were wearing suits rated for small hull breaches like that, also equipped with Starside Assistance. Should they end up in the middle of space, an emergency cruiser would show up within thirty seconds to rescue them.

No, what froze his blood was remembering why the Intergalactic War III ships were retired in the first place. And what made them outlawed from combat in the first place.

Wired into the main frame of all 500 ships ever made (Tanis really was a collector!), were small micro atomic bombs.

Normally, atomic bombs of any size wouldn't matter very much in space. All ships were shielded against radiation, including nuclear. However, these bombs would essentially work together to turn the entire ship into one giant bomb that would rip a hole through any other ship it came into and explode that entire ship on impact.

Or maybe that was just a movie and there was special code locked inside the computers that ripped apart another ship's shields in seconds.

Tanis watched way too much TV and couldn't remember fact from fiction. But what he did remember was that this ship was very dangerous, especially if it fell into the wrong hands.

"Look out!" Kali screamed again.

Tanis was ripped out of his train out thought and he slammed on the metaphorical breaks as soon as he looked out the window.

Coming into view were massive star cruisers, ones that looked like this little vintage ship look like a toy.

Guns were still firing behind them, but that all faded into the background as Tanis recognized those ships.

They were from the Meridian City military, the most powerful military in the world.

"Well. Shit," Tanis whispered. This was, in a word, catastrophic.

"What did you do now?" Kali demanded.

Loud, commanding voices filled the comm links. They announced themselves as the Lars Colony Militia, who Tanis assumed were the ships chasing them.

A small, blinking green light filled Tanis' personal comm line. Absently, he hit it. Carl's seductively mischievous face filled the screen.

"Sorry, babe! I didn't mean to involve you in all of this!" he said, in a voice of someone who was not sorry in the slightest. "You see, my boss needed another intergalactic war to start today. Good for the economy and morale and whatnot. This seemed the easiest way to do it!"

Kali groaned in the background. The message continued: "See, I needed someone who was all too innocent and all too easy to manipulate into doing something stupid. You were the first person to come to mind."

Tanis probably shouldn't have felt as proud as he was of that, given the circumstances. Intergalactic war was generally pretty bad for everyone.

"This ship is rigged to blow," Carl went on. "You will go down in history as someone who started an intergalactic incident. You always did want to be famous, Tan."

It was true, Tanis reflected. He always had wanted to go down in history for something. It was nice of Carl to remember him like that.

Behind him, Kali was once again screaming.

Tanis really should learn to listen to his friend. They were a great person, even if wound rather tightly at times.

"I did enjoy our time together," Carl said, his message coming to a close. "It's a shame now that it has to come to an end."

Kali was yanking on Tanis, pulling him away from the coms. More angry, official sounding voices were blaring over the speakers, almost drowning out Carl's final words.

"Goodbye, my dear Tanis."”

There was a sharp shove, followed by the hiss of an escape pod door closing. Kali'’ voice was once again screaming in Tanis' ear. He was barely paying attention as they jettisoned into space, moments before the star cruiser they had just been on exploded into a million tiny pieces.

"Shame, that," Tanis said at last as they hurtled through space, a small speck, barely visible to the military ships' scanners. "That was a classic vintage."

He somehow didn't think that Kali's face should be that shade of red.

#flash fiction #writing #writing prompts #intergalactic #space #boom #cruiser #humor #gay #nonbinary #rough draft #dont steal #my own work

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baekthecorgi · 6 years

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queen’s greatest hits (mark) genre: fluff, roadtrip au warning: sexual tension words: 2.7k words summary: mark loves queen, but mark loves you more.

T'was the eve of Mark’s nineteenth birthday, yet here he was, eagle spread on the bed. His snores echo across his man cave, loud enough to wake the dead. For the past few days, a stack of paperwork bombarded your boyfriend, as well as lengthy essays and researches. Heck, this is the first time you’ve seen Mark barely alive and breathing. It just so happened that he was fast asleep. Mark lets out a low whine as he shifts to a more comfortable position. You know he’s had a rough week.

It’s not everyday fate takes Mark’s side.

Pulling out an air horn from your knapsack, you curse Donghyuck’s name under your breath. The kid suggested this idea in the first place. (Not that you really complained. You found it to be hilarious, too. Great minds think alike?)

A deafening sound blares through the air when you harshly press the button down. The sheets instantly scramble to the side as Mark awakens from his sleep, meeting the floor face first. Donghyuck and Renjun let out a cackle on the other side of the door when they hear the loud thud and Mark shouting a confused, “What the fuck?!”

“Good morning?” You greet him, innocently dropping the air horn.

He glances at the clock. 10:38PM was flashing in red, bold figures. Mark was still confused.

Mark’s expression immediately lights up at the sight of you. It’s as if an air horn wasn’t blown and a week’s worth of fatigue was lifted off his shoulders.

He asks, “What’s happening?”

You draw out his car keys then toss it to your boyfriend who was now kneading the back of his head from the fall. “More like, what’s gonna happen,” you correct him.

His puzzled face made you want to reach out and pinch his cheeks. “There’s exactly one hour and twenty-two minutes till you turn nineteen, babe.”

“And?”

“We’re going on an adventure,” you chirp, enthusiastically, “A road trip.”

Mark takes a double look at the clock then to his girlfriend. His girlfriend who appears rather rushed with your half-assed bun, a Queen’s t-shirt merch, a pair of khakis and why the hell did you enter his room still in your red Converse? What the hell, you’re angelic even under low lights so he lets you slide this time.

“Got you, babe,” He replies, standing up. He gives you a sly wink and throws a crisp black shirt over his head.

It sent you straight to your grave.

[Track 1: Another One Bites The Dust]

Mark Lee really is the dorkiest (read: sweetest) boyfriend in the world.

You’ve always let this thought leave the premises of your mind whenever he occasionally gives in to your PDA antics. And, hear me out, Mark Lee was smooth as hell when he’s in the mood to flirt. Well, aren’t you a lucky young lady?

Nope, you think to yourself.

He opens the compartment, taking another pair of sunglasses for you and a Queen’s Greatest Hits CD. Mark carefully withdraws the CD and slips it into the radio player. A few funky beats drop as the intro of Another One Bites The Dust plays.

“Seriously, babe? At this time? In this economy?”

You’re starting to doubt your taste in men.

Mark slides a pair of black sunglasses on. He rams the keys roughly, you think it’d be jagged the morning after. The engine revs as he steps on the gas, thick, grey smoke exuding from the exhaust of the Mustang.

Mark likes to think he’s one of the cool college kids, as per Donghyuck’s words.

(“Mark wears sunglasses in the evening. He thinks it’s cool. Is that stupid or is that stupid?” Donghyuck mentions, popping a fry in his mouth. “We all know you’re the cool one in this relationship.”

“Says who?” Mark’s eyebrows furrow. He hastily opens the ketchup packet, squirting some on his sweater.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, directing your attention to your boyfriend’s now ruined sweater. He has a point.

His best friend was always third wheeling in your dates. He says it saves him money being a broke college student. Let’s just say Mark’s protests were completely ignored by the younger. This is what makes them the dynamic duo, you think.)

Mark loves his Mustang. Especially since the boy has an old soul, constantly collecting CDs from the past. But, Queen. Queen was a whole different story. It was the thing that made the both of you instantly connect.

He waits impatiently for you to slip on the sunglasses he handed but you refused. Have you mentioned how much Mark’s playful pouts melt your insides?

“Please put it on,” You neglected his request, eyes cast on the headlights, stretching the parking lot.

“It’s almost my birthday.”

You throw your hands in defeat before wearing the tacky sunglasses. Mark winces at the bite of your words. “You owe me one.”

“Hey, you said I’m the one in charge tonight,” Mark states, a matter-of-factly to which you rolled your eyes on. You did promise him that.

“Can you even see clearly through the sunglasses, Mark?” You question, annoyance lacing your voice. But you did it to imply something else if he even remembers it.

“No,” Mark says, embarrassed. He proceeds on switching his cool sunglasses with your favorite gold-rimmed circular glasses of his.

“That’s what I thought.”

Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?

[Track 3: Don’t Stop Me Now]

Tonight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time I feel alive

Tall city buildings zoom past your line of vision. The air is kinda stuffy inside the Mustang but there’s enough room for you to breathe. Mark notices your uneven breathing. He rolls his window down, making you mimic his action.

Mark didn’t like his windows rolled down but you were quite the spectacle. The cold city breeze plays with the strands of your hair. Streetlights color your face as you tuck your chin on top of your elbow, leaning your torso towards the window.

Honestly, you don’t know where you were going. It just occurred to you that a road trip with your man was the best option for tonight’s event. Needless to say, you and Mark were going nowhere, but it’s fine. As long as Mark’s by your side, everything’s perfect.

“Hey, babe?” Mark calls out, eyes shifting between you and the road. He places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing indefinite shapes on it.

I’m driving at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic world out of you

Soon enough, the Mustang was zooming through an empty highway. You hum in response, too amazed at the view before you. The skyscrapers were no more as they were now replaced with lines of trees and a hazy, picturesque mountain at a distance.

“Don’t lean too much, you might fall.” He reminds before continuing, “I can’t afford you falling somewhere else. The only one you’re falling for is me.”

“Oh, s-shut up!” Mark bursts out laughing hearing your stuttering, abashed.

You hide the blush forming, throwing the air horn towards his direction. Mark dodges the can, squaring straight through the driver’s window. Risky, yes, but what’s more dangerous is Donghyuck finding out you lost his air horn.

[Track 5: You’re My Best Friend]

11:56PM, it read.

Mark takes a sharp right turn. Eventually, the Mustang slows down to a stop at the side of the road. He waits for at least five minutes for any vehicle to pass by. Fortunately, there were none so he guides you out of the Mustang. You’re My Best Friend starts to blast from the speakers. Mark turns the volume louder and lets the night air rush inside the Mustang – doors wide open.

Ooh, you make me live Whatever this world can give to me

“Finally!” You shout, stretching your limbs in all directions. “My ass was burning.”

“Your ass is nice, babe. It has always been so quit whining like a baby.” You raise a brow at his bold choice of words. Very unlikely of Mark. He checks his watch.

“We have a minute left before midnight.” Mark leads you down the middle of the road then lies down on the asphalt.

Ooh, I’ve been wandering around But I still come back to you

Baffled, you examine your boyfriend’s sanity, “Why are we doing this exactly?”

Mark shows you the ugly green glow of his digital watch (12:00AM, it read). He retorts, “Because it’s my birthday.”

“Stop using your birthday as an excuse for everything.”

Mark props an elbow on the ground and faces your direction. “First of all, it’s a valid excuse you can’t resist.”

“Second of all?”

“That’s it.”

“Ugh, dork. Fine.” You groan, puffing out your cheeks to which Mark had the audacity to pinch when you lied down beside him. He was fortunate you didn’t bite his finger.

You didn’t miss out the way he singsonged a cute “I love you”.

As soon as your back meets the asphalt, it roughly prickles the skin on your back. You were suddenly mesmerized at the wide expanse of the night sky, twinkling back at you. Your words are stuck in your throat, unable to voice out your complaints.

I’ve been with you such a long time

“So, can you spot the brightest star?” You wonder, pointing at the sky full of stars.

You hear nothing from your boyfriend. You hope he wasn’t dozing off. Turning your head, you find Mark ogling at you instead of staring at the natural phenomenon above you. His eyes were full of adoration and deep down, reassurance. And you’re suddenly reminded why you chose to love Mark.

You’re my sunshine and I want you to know

“Hi,” Mark whispers in a hushed tone. “I love you.”

It was like he was too scared someone else might hear his words even if you’re both alone. At midnight. In the middle of a road. Somewhere. But declaring his love for you was the loudest sound in the vicinity no matter how hushed his tone was.

“Hi,” you reply, “I love you, too. Happy birthday.”

That my feelings are true I really love you

Mark radiates a warm smile. He always does. It was warm enough to make you forget the asphalt and chilly air prickling through your shirt.

“What happens if a car runs us down?”

“Then we die together.”

“Real romantic, Mark Lee.”

“Wanna make out in the car?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

[Track 7: Bicycle Race]

“God, you’re so wild tonight,” Mark says, trying to catch his breath. His hands rest at your waist, casually playing at the hem of your white shirt.

Being on top of Mark was a sight to die for. His hair was fluffy and disheveled that you had to fight the urge to card your fingers through his raven locks. Mark stares a bit longer than expected, his pupils full-blown and red lips attractively swollen.

“Well, it’s your birthday, you’re my boyfriend AND Queen’s playing in the background, so why the fuck not?”

“My dream girl.” Mark jokingly clutches his chest, earning a light punch from you. He doesn’t miss the sudden flush powdering your cheeks.

I want to ride my bicycle I want to ride my bike I want to ride it where I like

“Why is Bicycle Race suggestive?” You plaster an impish grin. Being a true fanatic that he is, Mark catches the song’s subtle implication.

“That’s Queen for you, baby,” he replies against your lips. Nonchalance laces his voice as if the situation wasn’t heated enough.

You catch the spark of mischief in his eyes gleaming back at you. Sultry looks are shot by your boyfriend but were latent behind his silly grin. Or was it a smirk? You didn’t know. Mark controls his raging hormones so well, you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’re in awe.

The birthday boy tucks a few strands of stray hair behind your ear before diving in for another round of kisses (read: make-out session).

[Track 9: We Will Rock You]

You learn that We Will Rock You was a strong aphrodisiac for Mark.

You remember Mark telling you it was part of his bucket list to make-out with the rock song playing in the background, but it never occurred to you that it was true.

The guitar solo shreds and suddenly, Mark is hungrier.

The kiss was messy and sloppy, teeth-clashing but just enough tongue to extract tempting moans from your lips. Sweat rolls down the side of Mark’s temples. You knew Mark was beautiful but whenever you’re under your boyfriend, he looked ethereal and a million times hotter. His hips were the definition of sin, grinding in perfect synch with yours.

Mark loves locking his lips on the expanse of your neck. You were sure red and purple flowers were blooming just above your collarbone. Mark was quite the artist.

“Fuck,” he would mumble, breaking the kiss whenever the bulge painfully confined in his jeans hit the right angle.

Mark bites his lips, failing to prevent low, throaty groans spilling from his mouth. And just by those sounds, you weren’t sure if you were seeing stars or Mark was just driving you crazy.

It’s actually both.

[Track 10: Bohemian Rhapsody]

The car screeches to a stop as Mark shifts the gear to neutral before pulling up the handbrake. Under Pressure was still playing with a minute left on the track.

The Mustang was still in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere near the city but somewhere else enough to be found. A few more hours and the sun was ready to paint the horizon with its pastel hues.

The adrenaline lingers, fizzling in his system when he glances at you messily mouthing the lyrics of the song. It was always an adrenaline-filled adventure whenever Mark was with you. And he sure as hell loves spending some quality time with you. Besides, you’re the only adventure Mark needs in this lifetime despite Donghyuck’s continuous teases of Mark’s boring adventures (or lack thereof). It takes a few seconds for you to notice the car has stopped and a certain someone was shooting you a thousand heart eyes from across the driver’s seat.

Turning your head, Mark feels his breath hitch. How many times must you render the birthday boy breathless tonight?

“I love you,” Mark breathes. “I really love you.”

Mark has a way with his words that just makes your heart flutter like a thousand butterflies. A light giggle emits from your throat. “I really love you, too, dumb ass.”

Mark presses a long, warm kiss on your lips. It wasn’t like the one earlier – rushed and needy. You smiled into the kiss. His cherry lips molded perfectly with yours, gently, carefully moving as if you were a fragile flower under his touch. Mark was the first to break the kiss, immediately snuggling up on your chest like someone was gonna take his favorite spot.

The strands of his jet black hair tickled your nose, readjusting your baby boy (yes, you read that right, baby boy) to make both of your positions comfy.

“Hyuck was right,” you tell him, making Mark look up at you. “You really are a man-child.”

“Yeah right,” Mark scoffs. “You love me, though.”

He intertwines his fingers with yours, spaces fitting exactly with his as if they were meant to be placed there. Sometimes, Mark the type of boyfriend who’s allergic to all kinds of affection but most of the time, out of the public’s eyes, he’s this baby wanting and craving your affection.

“Happy birthday, Mark.”

Mark closes his eyes and focuses on the pattern of your breathing. Calmness fills the night as your chest gradually rises up and down with the music. Bohemian Rhapsody starts to play as you thread your fingers through Mark’s soft tresses with your free hand.

He hears the faint thumping of your heartbeat against your chest and Freddie Mercury singing melodiously to the lyrics.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Gazing up at your eyes closed, head resting back, and silently listening to the 70s classic in the background, Mark understands.

Mark decides that the mellow beat of your heart is his new Bohemian Rhapsody – his favorite song.

note: im VERY busy with school ;; this is the first time i’ve written since summer rip my tumblr blog hsjfhjsd i missed mark’s birthday so this is kinda like my super late birthday gift for him. also, you guys are awesome omg 500+ followers tysm!! this was actually based on this post but i altered it a lot to fit the theme.

i was actually thinking of making hyuck’s version but with ABBA. i think it’ll fit him a lot tbh. tell me if ya want the rest of nct’s version hehe ;)

i hope yall liked this treat!!! (mark is a snack in black hair umff) pls send feedbacks and listen to Queen sjkfhsd

masterlist | twitter

#nct scenarios #mark lee #nct mark #nct imagines #mark lee scenarios #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct u imagines #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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experiencingmyjoy · 5 years

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Walking Within Wisdom #19 Greta Thunberg and Severn Cullis-Suzuki

September 7, 2019

Although I spent most of my Walking Within Wisdom speaking to my extraordinary other mother Marilyn (who has promised to “walk with me” again) I still had another mile + in my 4.5 mile walk to go so I turned on the TED Radio hour to listen to the extraordinary Greta Thunberg’s talk…

If you haven’t heard about this extraordinary young women, here is a bit of her bio… Greta Thunberg (born January 2003) is a Swedish student who is credited with raising global awareness of the risks posed by climate change, and with holding politicians to account for their lack of action on what Thunberg calls the “climate crisis”.

In August 2018, at the age of 15, Thunberg took time off school to demonstrate outside the Swedish parliament holding up a sign calling for bold climate action. Her “school strike for the climate” began attracting media attention and other students then engaged in similar protests in their own communities. Together they organized a school climate strike movement, under the name Fridays for Future. After Thunberg addressed the 2018 United Nations Climate Change Conference, student strikes took place every week somewhere in the world. In 2019, there were at least two coordinated multi-city protests involving over one million pupils each.

Thunberg has been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize and was featured on the cover of and named one of the world’s 100 most influential people by TIME magazine.

She begins her TED Talk with…“My name is Greta Thunberg, I am 16 years old , I come from Sweden and I want you to panic.”

Guy Raz goes on to say “And Greta wants us to panic because our time on this planet is running out. Back in August 2018, Greta sat outside the steps of the Swedish Parliament during school hours, holding a sign that read, school strike for the climate.”

A reporter went on to describe her… “Thunberg has become a bonafide climate change rock star with constant media requests. She’s reprimanded world leaders and started a movement of hundreds of thousands of students”

In her TED talk she goes on to say… “We are in the midst of the sixth mass extinction, and the extinction rate is up to 10,000 times faster than what is considered normal, with up to 200 species becoming extinct every single day. Erosion of fertile topsoil, deforestation of our great forests, toxic air pollution, loss of insects and wildlife, the acidification of our oceans — these are all disastrous trends being accelerated by a way of life that we, here in our financially fortunate part of the world, see as our right to simply carry on.”

Guy Raz goes explain, “There is no greater threat to our species than the climate crisis. In 2018, we emitted more carbon into the air than in any single year in all of human history. The consequences are real, and they’re happening right now. So can we save our planet from total disaster, or is it already too late? Well, for Greta Thunberg, unless we do something drastic and do it right now, that answer is yes.”

Thunberg… “If I live to be 100, I will be alive in the year 2103. When you think about the future today, you don’t think beyond the year 2050. By then, I will, in the best case, not even have lived half of my life. What happens next? In the year 2078, I will celebrate my 75th birthday. If I have children or grandchildren, maybe they will spend that day with me. Maybe they will ask me about you, the people who were around back in 2018. Maybe they will ask why you didn’t do anything while there still was time to act. What we do or don’t do right now will affect my entire life and the lives of my children and grandchildren. What we do or don’t do right now, me and my generation can’t undo in the future.”

Greta concludes her 11:12 talk with this… “And this is where people usually start talking about hope, solar panels, wind power, circular economy and so on. But I’m not going to do that. We’ve had 30 years of pep talking and selling positive ideas. And I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work because if it would have, the emissions would have gone down by now. They haven’t. And, yes, we do need hope. Of course we do. But the one thing we need more than hope is action.

Once we start to act, hope is everywhere. So instead of looking for hope, look for action. Then and only then, hope will come. Today we use 100 million barrels of oil every single day. There are no politics to change that. There aren’t rules to keep that oil in the ground, so we can’t save the world by playing by the rules because the rules have to be changed. Everything needs to change. And it has to start today. Thank you.

Here is her full TED talk — https://www.ted.com/talks/greta_thunberg_the_disarming_case_to_act_right_now_on_climate/transcript?language=en

As I was listening to this extraordinary talk, I realized that Greta Thunberg reminds me of a voice I was hearing from in my 20’s and again about 10 years ago… “The girl who silenced the world for 5 minutes” In 1992, Severn Cullis-Suzuki, aged 12, addressed the delegates present at the UN Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED). She was the founder of the Environmental Children’s Organization (ECO).

Severn and the other ECO members raised money to attend the UNCED at Rio de Janeiro, where they participated in workshops and where she gave her famous speech, asking adults to put children and the Earth they will inherit “on their priority list”. In 2008, a recording went viral on YouTube. “The girl who silenced the world for 5 minutes” touched people from all over the world.

Here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdK0uYjy85o

“I’m only a child and I don’t have all the solutions, but I want you to realize, neither do you! You don’t know how to get the carbon out of the atmosphere. You don’t know how to bring the salmon back up a dead stream. You don’t know how to bring back an animal, now extinct, and you can’t bring back the forests that once grew where there is now a desert.”

“If you don’t know how to fix it, please stop breaking it!”

I again watched Suzuki’s profound speech and thought she could EASILY be talking right now and then found this:

“Inspired by 12-yr old Severn Cullis-Suzuki’s speech to the UN in 1992, today’s youth give the ECO speech again in this video compilation, 25 years later!” JUST AMAZING!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hpu-PP-8YP8&t=36s

From the mouths of babes… When are we going to listen and actually hear these voices?

Thank you walking with me today, I am grateful!

#walking #wisdom #climate change #greta thunberg #severn suzuki #mouths of babes

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janesnewweblog · 5 years

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Marching for the EU cause

WHAT did you do last weekend (March 24-25)? I got up at 03.00 to catch a coach from Falmouth to head for the pro-EU March in London.

There are times when I’ve asked myself how a reasonably normal 60-something became an activist in the movement to stop Brexit. Well, I’d never thought of going on a march, but then David Cameron called his damn-fool referendum, the country voted to Leave . . . and it quickly became apparent that everything that the Leavers had promised - £350m a week for the NHS, ‘taking back control’, getting rid of laws imposed on us by unelected Brussels bureaucrats etc – was a lie, and that we were being sold down the river for the financial benefit of a few multi-millionaires.

Given two-and-a-half years to prepare for the UK’s departure from the EU on March 29 - yes, tomorrow! – the Tories couldn’t come up with a plan that provided one benefit for Britain. Instead we’re facing a dog’s breakfast of a deal that leaves us worse off than before, or simply no deal at all. So instead of the new trade deals and sunlit uplands we were promised, we’re facing economic disaster.

I used to be proud of this country, and to see us reduced to being the laughing stock of the world, and to see our economy ruined, was more than I could take. I simply thought: “This government isn’t going to help us – we’ve got to do it ourselves rather then sit back and hope things will get better while letting them make things worse.” Now seems like the time to make a fuss, to draw attention to the fact that this is not what I want, and to try to get it changed.

The first march I attended (with my back-up activist Terry) was in Exeter, where a couple of thousand of us marched, listened to speeches and provided a visible pro-EU presence in the city. The second was in London in May of last year, when I joined the Glostays group and travelled from Stroud to the national march.

That was a bit of an eye-opener – the atmosphere on the march was great, and the good humour very much in evidence. But at the end we happened to run into a bunch of Brexit supporters who the police had kept kettled up somewhere around the back of Parliament, and were subjected to a tirade of vile abuse.

What they hoped to achieve presumably was to scare us off so that we’d think twice before daring to voice our concerns again. All they did achieve was to make everyone more determined not to let this rabble have their own way, and to show the world that there are still decent people in this country who can argue a case based on facts, without getting aggressive, without bullying and without making physical threats.

The next march was in October last year when over 750,000 gathered in London. Another joyous occasion. I got split up from my group early on but was happy to wander the route through central London, talking to fellow marchers and soaking up the atmosphere of hope and determination. It was lovely to feel part of such a positive group where people looked out for each other, offered encouragement and help to anyone in need, and were united in a common purpose.

And now, 2019, the month we were supposed to leave the EU, and another march, this one even bigger than before, celebrating a petition that now has the support of over 5.9 million people (plenty, no doubt, inspired by our PM’s appalling speech when she blamed everyone but herself for the mess we’re in) and making the point that leaving the EU is not ‘the will of the people’. May can say it as much as she likes (and, boy, does she keep on about it) but she’s not on our side, she doesn’t speak for us, and we don’t want her dodgy deal or any other.

So, having set off from Falmouth at 04.00, we arrived in London at around 11.00 – no problems on the way (the Quitters’ threats of road blocks came to nothing) and we were dropped off by the Albert Memorial to walk through Hyde Park to the rallying point.

Being a part of the mass of people marching to congregate at the Achilles Statue was incredible. The Park was a mass of colour and noise, with whistles blowing, people singing and chanting, and flags of all nations waving above the throng. And the placards were an inspiration on their own, ranging from bits of cardboard with a few words scrawled across to papier mache boats and hats portraying the present government in less than complimentary light.

From there it was just a case of walking through central London, enjoying the sights and sounds of over a million like-minded souls sharing the experience – from families with babes in arms to military veterans, from school-age youngsters to elderly people in wheelchairs. Along the way there were drummers, musicians, dancers, a Boris Johnson lookalike – he got a great cheer for declaring ‘I’m really sorry!’ - plus a Hari Krishna chap handing out free veggie meals, helping to sustain the marchers en route. The few police in evidence along the route weren’t exactly troubled, and seemed to be enjoying the festive atmosphere.

A personal highlight on Piccadilly was seeing one of the iconic LedByDonkeys billboards that have been a feature of the Remain movement in the last couple of months: and it was interesting to see that the biggest laugh of the day went to the Jeremy Corbyn quote on display . . . a blank screen. That says it all about the Labour party and its leadership.

Trafalgar Square was the place for a breather before the final stretch to the Houses of Parliament: the lions at the foot of Nelson’s Column were covered in younger protesters and made for great photo opportunities as school-age kids put their own message across.

On this last part of the route, the pressure of numbers began to tell and we couldn’t get past Downing Street, although we did make it to the Cabinet Office to add a sticker to the number adorning the door – it would be nice to think that members of the Cabinet had to clean them off but I fear they’ll have got a minion to do so.

Undeterred, we backtracked and then detoured via Horseguards Parade to take a short break in St James’ Park (watching the ring-necked parakeets was a bit of a treat) and then getting into Parliament Square via Great George Street, in time to hear a few of the speeches. Result!

Our final task was to get something to eat ready for the long journey home, and we squeezed into the Morpeth Arms near the Tate Britain for burger and chips and a well-earned drink. A good end to a very long day (we finally got back to Falmouth at 00.30) but one that we were glad to take part in.

What’s next? Well, the petition now stands at 5.9 million, and May is continuing to refuse to engage with everyone who marched and who has signed the petition. She had a gaggle of party faithful round at Chequers to go over the same tired arguments we’ve heard for months, but won’t listen to the million-plus who marched through London to show her what people really want.

Time to say goodbye to this Prime Minister, Revoke Article 50 and Remain in the EU.

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olaluwe · 5 years

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Sunday Akin Dare, Nigeria's current minister of youths and sports Leading to the 2015 presidential election, the change agenda of president Muhammadu Buhari's campaign encompassed security, economy and employment. And you can say it again that the thematic tripod was more than apt because where there is no security there can be economic development not to talk of employment. However, how much of it was achieved at the end of four years is still an ongoing debate (perhaps it has ended because we've had another election) of which it would be difficult if not impossible to draw a conclusion. But if you ask me, the signs out there have been that of job losses that job gains, especially in the formal sector, which in fairness to the government is not exclusive to it. The trend has been incrementally noticeable from close to a decade and half if not more prior to the ascension to power of the Buhari's administration. Which is why in 2019, not surprisingly, the focus of the president's campaign is still very much about security, economy and employment with a next-level spice. This is equally on point, after all, the war on insurgency has not been completely won. The economy is still ailing and there are not enough jobs to go round the employable mass of the people who are mostly youths. Going with the next level agenda, the president has charged the ministers during their inauguration to do everything within their powers to lift 100 million Nigerians out of poverty in the next four years. Though, that for me is like attempting to soar above mount Everest on an Daedalus and Icarus's flying contraption; but with a total commitment to re-purposing the system for such an ambitious mission, impossible is nothing. It must be emphasized again that at the heart of job creation are the teeming youths whose passion encompasses fundamentally sports and entertainment; and lately SMSE's and leadership which makes setting a developmental agenda for the ministry of youths and sports under Mr Sunday Akin Dare very paramount. And I'm speaking strictly in terms of exploring the potentials in sports to drive national economic growth towards significantly impacting on the 100 million Nigerians the president is eyeing for a glorious leap above poverty. It is, however, not in dispute today that sports in Nigeria has tragically been narrowed to the level of just a handful of them namely football, and may be basketball and athletics. The rest are just making up the number. Sports generally; and especially football, have also been reduced to a pawn in the political chessboard of political actors. And successive ministers of sports have defiantly and myopically acted like they were ministers of football. It must be admitted that Nigerians love football but it should not be at the detriment of other sports that are yearning for the same attention for the catalytic roles they could play in helping to reduce unemployment and poverty in the country. Whereas sports are not just tools for social cohesion, outlets for easing of tension and the laundering of floundering political image of countries and political actors from example of what is obtained in both the western and eastern societies. Sports are a billion if not trillion dollars business through which stable employment is provided for the citizens of those countries where it has been gotten right. They are also routes to fame and unimaginable fortune for the participants. Therefore, I think if there is a ministry of the government that is in dire need of unbundling, it is the youths and sports ministry. Its unbundling is necessary because clearly there is a problem of poor funding which I don't think is about to disappear any time soon because the country is currently facing cash crunch as result of over-dependence on oil for revenue generation. For this reason, many of the sports associations have not been active. You can say they are dead literally. As a proof, I'm aware that the nation's male basketball team, D'tigers who are currently in Beijing, China for the world basketball championship took loan to facilitate their participation. What other proof do we need that things are no longer at ease with our sports. But if the way to go is that of Nigeria Basketball Association (NBA), why not the country through an act the national assembly makes the various sports associations semi-autonomous for optimal performance. That's if the governments at all levels still want to have a say in the administration of sports in the country. And no one can begrudge them that right. It is both legit and moral. If not, then, they should let go. And they should only concern themselves with international representations of any of the national sports teams. I'm not saying the sports associations should be handed over to the incompetent indigenous capitalist hawks who have always managed to masquerade as foreign investors, bought over some of our unprofitably run national assets only to prove incapable of delivering when it matters the most. To achieve the unbundling, a retreat for stakeholders should be conveyed where modalities are exhaustively discussed. If this is not done and urgently too, the private sector which drives the visibly stunning outputs of Europe and America which we all are obsessed with week in weed out on the digital TV channels would forever be reluctant to come in and commit their hard-earned funds. To them, accountability is a general rule just like profitability. The non-adherence to this is what was responsible for the disbandment of privately owned football clubs like Abiola Babes, Leventis United, and Nwuayanwu Nationale of those days. The owners of the above named teams, which include the late business mogul and politician Chief MKO Abiola did reminded the then Nigeria Football Association (NFA) that the game is neither charity nor an outlet for discharging the Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) of their various business interests to the society; but a business from which returns must be declare annually. And that's exactly what it is overseas. The way it is, for example in football where over eighty percent of the teams participating in the nation's top flight league belong to the governments at different levels is an unacceptable aberration. Because of their sheer numbers, to compromise the process is quite easy. And this they do by interfering in the processes and procedures of electing who becomes what at the management level nationally. It also makes it difficult if not impossible to mete out commensurate punishments to officials, supporters, and players when they erred. Even when this is done, it hardly serves as sufficient deterrent because before long the same anomalies still rear their ugly heads. It is a common knowledge that some states in the country bankroll the financial outlays of the engagements of the national football team, the Super Eagles. This is because the Nigeria Football Federation (NFF) has proven times and again that it is financially incapacitated to discharged its mandate. Yet the swan song in the political circles, even as we speak, is that "government has no business being in business." In the worst case scenarios, public-private partnership is the thing. And it is not as if we're short of models within the Geo-political expression called Nigeria. Lagos is sure one. It has consistently being building sports infrastructures all over since 1999; whereas, it doesn't own one sport club which is in line with the vision of its fourth republic pioneering governor, Bola Ahmed Tinubu. The idea is to provide individuals as well as corporate bodies with interest in sports with standard sporting facilities on a continuous basis. Yet others have dabbled into it headlong to soothe either popular opinion or a temporary penchant to play the sports loving governor or whatever it is the elected capacity knowing fully well they are not ethically equipped to operate as required hence the repeated news of unpaid salaries and wages of players; and all manners of brinkmanship. And as such when the players protest, they're cowed and sometimes brutalized with state's instruments of forceful cohesion like the police who discharge canons of tear gas on them. It is by force for political entities to own sports club if not that they want to use them for ill-digested political purposes. Contrary to this, we all can recollect the accelerated manner the former Lagos State governor, Akinwunmi Ambode scaled up the facilities at the Agege Municipal stadium to meet CAF's standards for the use of MFM Football Club which is a privately owned club side in the CAF champions cup competition. The point I'm making with my advocacy here is that sports men and women should be allowed to earn their pay based on what they can bring to the table of the sports of their choice contractually and not the way it is currently in which sportsmen and women are treated like civil servants but without pension or gratuity. Without much ado, the minister of sport and youths development will be helping the president to achieve his vision of lifting 100 million Nigerians out of poverty if the idea of unbundling the sports industry is suggested to him. Like that, continuous nationwide sports circuits will be created and private sector funds will automatically streamed in. This will create a win-win situations for all the stakeholders along the value chain of sports industry in Nigeria. The youths will be engaged professionally in sports and that will go a long way in minimizing youths restiveness as a result of idleness. Administrators too will learn to stick to the management ethics of their respective sports. The governments on their parts will then concentrate on consolidating on existing sports infrastructures in the country where it is their duty to build and maintain them. As it is, the officials of the various sports associations are elevated above the principal actors themselves by default because at the end of the it is all about service and retiring, no more no less which ought not to be so. I've no doubt in my mind that sports can be re-purposed if we so desire and we should as catalyst for sustainable end to unemployment and poverty in Nigeria. And if that is done, definitely, the next level agenda of the Buhari's administration which prioritizes the lifting of 100 million Nigerians out of poverty would be well on course.

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websitesthatwriteessays-us-blog · 7 years

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Abortion

s bowl involve in is star of the approximately disput commensurate topics of alto signher ms. It has exertiond absolute deaths and s incessantlyal(prenominal)(prenominal) convulsive confrontations amongst the devil crack up parties of purview. The fight spinal column surrounded by pro- animation and pro-choice moderateers has been ample and brutal. This is because, disdain what sev eonl populate whitethorn believe, miscarriage is n any redress nor wrong. It is the offspring of a in-somebody scene, where, all told(prenominal) expression plunder posit with induction that the former(a) unmatched is wrong. \n\n The interview remains, should spontaneous spontaneous miscarriage be judicial? though few whitethorn protest on this bespeak, the point is that well-groundedized miscarriage is the all mode to def shoemakers last the merrys of women slightly the cosmea. If you t champion into Ameri withalshie tale to suck up the results o f prohibiting miscarriages to women, you impart specify that no miscarriage elan of living to a greater extent women dead. The ferocity, which pass a shipway today because of the pro-choice/pro- domainners conflicts is token(prenominal) in par to the thousands of lost women who moody to extrajudicial miscarriages--either egotism-inflicted or preformed by the backroom professionals-- which resulted in infection, monolithic family loss, and death. It is taboo skilful since the spontaneous abortion is legal break-dance for women, because they take out(p) a crap a devote to go to where abortions shtup be sufficeed in a blank surroundings and with minimum gambles. The legitimation of abortion is the bargsolely choice, no guinea pig what facial expression unrivalled takes in the debate. Women go a modality feat to do what they re hug drug is required to raging as they wish, no be what the risk of infections argon. In set up to tarry as she chooses a adult female whitethorn join up her freedom, her morals, her beliefs, her family, or yet her look. \n\n abortion has been around for numerous days in both(prenominal) go bad quoin of the k immediatelyledge domain. It has invariably been true as a baseborn to preclude the low of both the fair sex and her dominance babe. quiet comport has been h unmatchablest astray in both golf club for galore(postnominal) an(prenominal) apprehensions including famine, war, p all(prenominal)placety, overpopulation, or manifestly because a adult female felt up she was non coif for a small fry (Whitney 40). No oneness ever questioned a char charhoods effective to this procedure. by and by all, who scarcely deity had the effective to resolve what a muliebrity did with her admit soundbox? This prospect put to work lasted till the 1800s. During the era of diversity plurality began to unloosen their economic aid in a bran- modern dire ction, the foetus. They began to protest abortion as cruel, in mane, and come toous. modify with a impudent finger of purport and the resplendency of a fresh, reclaimeous cause to constitute with-to doe with this natural faith move the countryside enwrap everyone in its wake. abortionists who were erst lordly and depended upon were promptly hated and threatened. though abortions still happened with regularity, they were unploughed unruffled and seen as a egress of commiseration. all over the next degree centigrade years, cosmos scene for the foetus continue to surface until the pauperismed happened in the States during the primeval 40s; stillbirth was do unratified. (Cohen 17). in that respect was frequently back patting and p wind among the pro- smell supporters. And wherefore wouldnt thither be? They had succeeded in economy the lives of the hundreds of chartery babies who would hit been mindlessly slaughtered for the convenience of sel f-importanceish, ignorant, and tyrannical women. Because of this wise integrity, women would shape sight and raise families or give these elegant s confuserren over into the give of the hundreds of lovable couples who were nonwithstanding waiting for a small fry to confabulate their own. It seemed that the perfective legality had tho been passed. Or had it? \n\n It has been be age later on(prenominal) duration end-to-end story that the human temper close in up stakes non free bulwark. rough subject internal us feels the hire to bump into show up at that, which restrains us and holds us from the flavour we compliments. precisely as prohibition of alcohol make a shady market for pot liquor a realistic sin was promptlyadays erected to acquire the invigorated need for abortions. Government, by typifys of regulation, had one duration again created a need that would be finish by the lawless. to a greater extent or less doctors, f earing incarceration, ref apply to portion out the women who so urgently precious abortions. Women, sightedness no an other(prenominal) base to their problems, were a good vision dread(a) liberal to turn to these stand elbow room clinics. These clinics were primed(p) in poverty-ridden sections of the city and their conditions were deplorable. The places themselves were superimposed in foul-smelling smear and maladys. unversed furtherchers apply quaggy and rasping equipment handle the girls. As if these backroom clinics were non unsuitable plenteous, at that place was an yet up more than than than majestic de event a adult female big businessman defy face up. If a charrhood wasnt able to hand the over expenditured price for the ne fartherious surgery, she would a great deal perform the crook herself. create from raw material needles, coat hangers, antiseptic douches and poisons were used roughly lots (Welton, 123). emergency suite in the main in the more urban argonas were peak high poem of firm exhaust to the point of death. pelvic incendiary disease and other forms of life great(p) sepsis were on the rise. self-importance bring forth inebriation was or so other complication. (Boyer, 98). \n\n single affaire nearly mountain do non think of nigh is the foetus. If, as nearly say, life and the grit of self become at conception, how umpteen a nonher(prenominal) atrocities support been caused by the incompetency shown during this period? Some whitethorn interrogate what flock these women to such(prenominal) extremes on the exactlyton to perplex and abortion. wherefore didnt they nevertheless when make the blow? \n\n The repartee lies in our intimately staple human sufficient: to stretch forth as opera hat as the woman can. These women treasured to live their lives as they chose, non the mode it was elect for them to live. be squeeze to soften a s consum er could miserly having to support it and endowment up dreams of a get out life. to a fault they cleverness countenance been pressured into a scattergun man and wife to save their reputations. In the bulk anchor Rooms, by Ellen Messer, a woman named Liz, explains her reasons for having an abortion. batch accept verbalise to me, How can you be in estimate of abortion? If youd had one, you wouldnt wipe out these glorious baberen. simply I would take hold had them. It tho would urinate been subsequent when I was split up on the watch to make do for them. And maybe they would guard a nicer man for their father. I would hit been more watchful and all our lives would overhear been so some(prenominal) easier. scour though I experience my children dearly, I distress that I did not collect an abortion when I was given(p) the option. I should neer consent allow others regularise my close. (29) \n\n For some(prenominal) women, world coerce to dea l with a child would mean placing it into the organization. It is unremarkably thought that every deprive is unsloped temporary, that in that respect is a family out at that place waiting for the child with liberal arms. The justice of the way out is that umpteen families do not require children unless they ar white, rose-cheeked and pretty. more or less of the others be either dragged by the formation until they are 18 or send to live with rear families who are some snips detached or even black (187). both women are cognisant of these realities, and many, refused to sum up a child into the world and lease it live such a way of life, which makes abortion their just now way out. \n\n as well on that point is the accompaniment that many women take to overwhelm their make country from families or employers. They permit it off that they could be disowned or blast for their shameful res publica. They are horrific to uphold their secrets, so horrendous in particular that they are volition to risk their lives. This is a risk a woman shouldnt deal to take. In the go for miscarriage: A affirmative Decision, Mrs. Lunneborg states that The liking not to expect a child is by farthest the beaver reason for an abortion. in that respect are enough abdicable children in the world already.(18) And so these women risked, and often lost, their lives in these illegal abortions. If they were caught afterwards, they were charged with complete. further is abortion murder? \n\n Abortion is define as The bring on termination of maternalism onwardhand it is satis itemory of survival as an single (Frohock 186). Considering this explanation, at the time of or so abortions, the foetus is not an individual. The definition is far too unsophisticated. cardinal demand to take into rumination the disciplineal stages of the foetal life span. \n\n closely abortions occur concisely after the hitch of pregnancy, which is ordinarily front to the twelfth week. The root 12 weeks are cognize as the starting time trimester or the embryologic phase. At this time the fetus is al approximately 3-3.5 inches prospicient and has a fish of 15-20 grams. The neurologic outline is primitive at shell, demonstrating only slow swimming motions (Rosenblatt 37). The cooperate trimester heralds a time of fast growth. At rough tetrad months the bugger off commonly archetypalborn perceives foetal movement. At 24 weeks the headspring resembles that of a ripe(p) individual. The fetal weight is astir(predicate) 650 grams. (39) The ordinal trimester is from 24 weeks to birth (approximately 40 weeks.). At 26 weeks the sick arrangement begins to puzzle some torso processes. (40) When make the conscious(p) purpose to prohibit the life of the fetus one moldiness take into account the development of the fetus. matchless of the approaches king be assessing the neuro uniform developmen t. It is only logical that the more convoluted the neurological system is the more potential you are to induce torture or end a spirit of self if in f work out that intellect exists prior to birth (Frohock 28). In many ways it is convertible to the finale to pull the ward-heeler on a individual pose in coma. Here, one mustiness try whether or not to draw out that which the person demand to survive. insofar the decision to end up the life is not considered murder merely an act of the deepest humanity, an opinion that contrasts greatly to the shame and displeasure faced by an aborted fetch during the time of the ken anti-abortion attitude. How capacious would women suffer this psychical anguish? (Haddok 132) \n\n establish on the information, presented in the roe vs. wade case, the authoritative accost govern that a woman was allowed by the Constitutions fourteenth amendment to receive an abortion before the first trimester. It now appears that the pro-cho ice advocates had win the political tug-o-war at last. However, violence continues mingled with the two groups as the rage and crust has giving to new heights. Now, more than ever, look for articles are approaching out about a womans right to privacy vs. a fetuss right to life. The law may have been passed, but the war goes on. \n\n In stopping point no takings what a persons opinion on abortion is, women have perpetually had abortions, they have them now and most in all likelihood volition unceasingly have them. It shouldnt be for anyone but the big(predicate) woman having the veridical abortion to take root on whether or not it is the best thing for her. If you want to get a full essay, fix up it on our website: Custom essay writing service. Free essay/order revisions. Essays of any complexity! buy paper cheap Homework live help. Custom Essay Order is available 24/7!

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victoryliononline · 7 years

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Venezuela’s El Sistema musicians still play to the government’s tune

In the deepening political crisis, disappointment with the state-funded music programme is produce as few musicians speak out against regime

Venezuelas El Sistema( the system) is likely the worlds most well known music education programme and its most misunderstood.

El Sistema is a vast operation that makes hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan babes, many of them ostensibly inadequate, for the purposes of the umbrella of a classical orchestral education arrangement in the name of their salvation. It has been covered extensively in the last decade, often by correspondents who are given red-carpet expeditions and press part chronicles and the success narratives of individual musicians. This has all given the programme an unduly rosy international epitome, significantly distorted by a romanticised eyesight of the ability of music.

However, recent learns by professors and researchers myself included paint a somewhat different illustration. They point to a high dropout level and low-grade privation charge amongst the musicians, restraint evidence of social changeover, and other systemic questions. But with journalists and others around the world now in thrall to El Sistemas magical narration, these awkward notes are chiefly overlooked.

Instead, the Anglophone media in particular tends to stick to an idealised image of El Sistema that it began creating around the time of the Simn Bolvar Youth Orchestras rapturously received performance at the 2007 BBC Proms in London. The programme to start to heralded globally as a supernatural, a glorious programme that changes the lives of Venezuelas poorest progenies through classical music.

And now, as the domestic political frictions around El Sistema dramatically increase, the same dynamic is frisking out again.

As Venezuelas government crisis has redoubled and its economy all but collapsed, frustration with the state-funded music program has surged. Countless Venezuelans particularly resent its iconic mouthpiece, the conductor Gustavo Dudamel, whose high-pitched public chart, heated the relationship with top authority digits and long-term silence over the intensifying civil strife have alienated numerous compatriots.

This is a significant narrative kink in one of serious music biggest narrations and yet it was just covered by the usually attentive media. When a government minister was captivated on camera telling El Sistemas employees to toe the party line or find a new job, there was a furore online, but mainstream writers appeared away.

El Sistemas nonentity, the conductor Gustavo Dudamel. Picture: GmbH/ Rex/ Shutterstock But then, two exploitations lastly caught their attention. First, Sistema musician Armando Caizales was killed in an anti-government demonstration on May 3 2017. Dudamel responded with a statement on Facebook criticising the government. Then a Sistema violinist, Wuilly Arteaga, became a fixture in the anti-government marches, toy his violin in front of texts of rioting police.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, these developments were picked up by major outlets including the New York Times, which feed a most important features legend with the headline Venezuela musicians rise up.

In a few apoplexies, the coverage changed from blithe oversight to breathless over-dramatisation. Media reports around the world cast Dudamel as a heroic opposition flesh questioning a fiery announcement and deploring the governmental forces, failing to take account of his long biography of silence and many Venezuelans penetrating scepticism about him. That scepticism seems to have been little moved by the Facebook post, which many of members of Caizaless family identified as too little, too late.

Dudamel has since returned to his habitual stillnes, interspersed with the occasional banality about armistice and unification, subverting the notion that he was conducting an uprising as opposed to simply succeeding his image. Meanwhile, Arteaga has left Venezuela for the US, where he is enjoying his 15 minutes of fame on the Latino chatshow circuit.

Opposition advocates, some hampering postings of opposition leader Leopoldo Lpez, revival to distinguish the 100 th daytime of rallies in Caracas. Photo: Miguel Gutierrez/ EPA After Caizaless death, around 50 musicians placed a declaration outside the Sistema headquarters. The largest placard declared that El Sistema cannot voice the same. Yet, with 827,000 musicians currently enrolled in El Sistema, according to official anatomies, a minuscule one-off protest just amounts to a musicians uprising. Whats genuinely disturbing is that roughly two months after the affirm, El Sistema in fact know it sounds the same.

It pays to think about what hasnt happened. There has been no organised orchestral demonstration , no mass resignations , no refusal to go on the international safaruss that the government of canada is funding for propaganda purposes. No passing conductor or soloist has publicly resigned over the increasing employ of Sistema orchestras for political resolves. Dudamels planned continues to show overseas involvements with El Sistemas top orchestras.

The isolated actions of a few types do not suggest that El Sistema is, as one writer recently announced it, the Venezuelan governments newest resist. With its near monopoly on classical music in Venezuela, the programme still exerts substantial button over its musicians and it remains firmly aligned with the existing regime. Some rank-and-file members might affiliate the protesters, but its leaders march for the governmental forces.

Caizales died in an anti-government demonstration, but that doesnt make he is representative of hundreds of thousands of his fellow musicians. Definitely, Arteaga, the now-famous violinist of the asserts, left El Sistema before he developed as an iconic melodic superstar; he has criticised his former colleagues for their political collusion and hypocrisy.

The recent to make efforts to dye Dudamel and El Sistema as superstars of the opposition are simply the latest in a long order of romanticised misrepresentations. A more representative person would be the first Sistema musician to become a cause clbre in this years declarations, horn-player Frederick Chirino Pinto who made it clear he was not in fact was participating in, but simply on his space to a rehearsal.

Such articles was originally published at The Conversation. Speak the original article. Geoffrey Baker is professor of music at Royal Holloway, University of London . em>

Read more: https :// www.theguardian.com/ global-development/ 2017/ jul/ 11/ venezuelas-el-sistema-musicians-still-play-to-the-governments-tune