#bear market strategies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haggishlyhagging · 5 months

Text

Get "power" by "surrendering" and "submitting" to your man's every whim, a leading '80s self-help manual advises in typical feminist-sounding rhetoric. Don't talk back, because a ladylike silence will "enhance" your "self-respect" and "feeling of mastery." "Take charge . . . of your courtship," suggests another popular text. "Overcome obstacles," so you can get married. The pseudofeminist title of one 1989 advice book puts it most succinctly: Women Who Marry Down and End Up Having It All.

While the backlash therapy books may be written in feminist ink, they blot out the most basic precept of feminist therapy—that both social and personal growth are important, necessary, and mutually reinforcing. This is a view that was supported, albeit in a rather degraded, commercialized form, in the leading self-help manuals of the 70s; in 1975, The New Assertive Woman issued an "Everywoman's Bill Of Rights" that called for "the right to be treated with respect" and "the right to be listened to and taken seriously." The '80s advice writers, by contrast, seemed to go out of their way to urge women to stop challenging social constraints and to keep their thoughts to themselves—to learn to fit the mold rather than break it.

On no group of women did the self-help authors impress this message more strongly than the ones without wedding rings. The diagnosis was, underneath it all, little changed from the postwar era, when that era's leading advice book—Marynia Farnham and Ferdinand Lundberg's Modern Women: The Lost Sex—declared all single women neurotics and proposed subsidized psychotherapy to get them married. In the '80s, even advice experts more sympathetic to single women and the pressures they faced touted the same marital party line. In the popular 1988 advice book, If I'm So Wonderful, Why Am I Still Single?, counselor Susan Page acknowledges in her introduction that unwed women are contending with a social climate that is especially rough on them now; they are burdened by "the specific problems that our times have spawned, such as misogyny," she writes. But she's not interested in helping single women develop the self-confidence and internal strength they need to bear up under these antagonistic conditions. Nor does she propose that single women even question the culture's marital marching orders. "I want to accept certain sociological and psychological factors as given [her emphasis]," she writes. "In this book we will not discuss why [her emphasis] these conditions are as they are, and we will not lament them." What then should single women do to ease what Page calls the "Great Emotional Depression" that she says has descended on millions of them? Just change your single status, she proposes. She dispenses "strategies" only to make women more marketable for marriage.

The '80s backlash therapists firmly rejected another fundamental feminist principle—that men can, and should, change, too. "[L]ately it seems there is a rising tide of utter frustration among women concerning men," Smart Women/Foolish Choices observes, and a lot of women "always end up feeling disappointed by men." But Cowan and Kinder do not go on to consider what men might be doing to inspire such an outpouring of frustration, nor how men might change their behavior to make women feel better. Instead, the psychologists conclude that men are fine and any disappointment women feel is wholly self-generated. It's not the men who are "inadequate," the authors write; it's just that the women's "expectations are distorted." Women are just "hypercritical" of men. All would be well if women only learned to "truly understand men" and their "need for mastery and career success." Women would be happy if they only quit "pushing" the opposite sex to change and learned to "compromise."

Asked later what sort of compromises he had in mind, Kinder says: "Women could have their kids while they are still in college, and then, if they still want a career, they can do that after the kids are grown. You do have to make some sacrifices." What about fathers "sacrificing" by taking some responsibility for their children? Kinder, whose wife stayed at home to raise their children, mulls it over. "Yeah, well that would solve the problem," he says. "But men won't do it. And it's not our place to be saying things like that. We're not social engineers." Not, anyway, when it comes to men.

Confronted with the antifeminist implications of their message, the backlash therapists almost always issue a denial. "We're talking about broadening expectations, not settling for less, and that's not just a play on words," Cowan says. But it is exactly that—unless Cowan has already forgotten his own "Rules for Finding the Right Man" in Smart Women. Rule #8: "Fewer expectations lead to greater aliveness."

Some of the therapists attacking women's liberation most forcefully claimed, in fact, to be proponents themselves. As many media-conscious therapists in the '80s discovered, feminist-bashing "feminists" garnered the most airtime. Susan and Stephen Price, authors of the popular No More Lonely Nights: Overcoming the Hidden Fears That Keep You from Getting Married, were one such "feminist" husband-and-wife therapy team who got a lot of press mileage plugging this backlash diagnosis of modern single women: "androphobia." This "problem without a name," they wrote, shamelessly stealing Friedan's phrase, was a "deep-rooted intense fear of men" shared by most unmarried women over thirty, especially professional women. The cause: "You have been deeply influenced by feminism."

* * *

"These obsessive androphobic fears are a major ingredient in women's resistance to marriage today," Stephen Price is saying in his Manhattan office, a few weeks after his appearance on the "Today" show. "Now that we've reached the end of the women's movement, which is where our culture is today . . ." Here he hesitates, then says, "We both, of course, feel very pro the gains of the women's movement."

His wife, Susan, seated in the office's other therapeutic armchair, nods vigorously. "We're both feminists," she says. "In fact, it was almost me being a feminist that kept me from seeing these hidden fears developing. As a therapist I encouraged women to pursue careers. But what happened is, women escaped into their careers and they didn't put their energy into their relationships. Their feminist viewpoint became a trap." But if careers hurt women psychologically, then why do professional women consistently rank highest, as we've seen, in virtually all measures of mental health? The Prices have no answer.

In spite of their pro-feminist claims, the Prices seem to oppose every feminist tenet, from economic independence to sexual freedom. In their book and in their counseling sessions, they advise women to refrain not only from initiating sex but from having sex at all before marriage. "If the woman is sexually aggressive, the man might put her in the category of someone to go to bed with, period," Susan Price says. Evidence? "Fatal Attraction may be overdrawn in some ways, but you can really see that operating there," she says.

Unlike authentically feminist therapists, the Prices don't consider, much less confront, other forces at work in women's lives. They reinforce the era's isolation of single women by encouraging their female readers to see themselves as defective units, alone and isolated only by their own aberrant behavior. They advise women to "deal with your own personal crisis: What might you [their emphasis] be doing to make intimacy with a man impossible? What attitudes are keeping you [their emphasis] unavailable for marriage?" The primary offending attitude that the book singles out: an insistence on respect and equal treatment from one's mate. "The desire to avoid a submissive status in relationship to men can lead you into a loveless life," they assert. Again, there is no analysis of the attitudes of men, much less proposals for altering them. If a man mistreats a woman, she probably asked for it. "A resistant woman picks a resistant man," Susan Price says. "What we help single women to see is how what they think is a problem with the man is really something inside them." Don't men play any role in difficult relationships? "Probably it is a fifty-fifty proposition," Stephen Price concedes, shrugging. "But this book is focused on women—for the purpose of clarity."

While they don't actually support a feminist vision, the Prices are happy to appropriate the movement's activist language to promote their own agenda. They urge women to "take control" of their love lives by scaling back their career aspirations and to "gain power" over potential husbands by remaining celibate. "It's Up to You to Get Married," the manual instructs, this being the only arena, apparently, in which it's okay for women to take the initiative.

Androphobia may have a scientific ring, but it's not based on scientific research—or any research at all. "We just knew it was a phobia," Stephen Price says flatly. How? "Well, because there's an avoidance there." Pressed to explain what that means, Stephen Price falls silent. Finally, he says: "A lot of the dynamics of phobia are hidden. That's how we know it's a phobia. It's very hidden." This invisible phobia turned the Prices into very visible "marriage gurus," as they now call themselves. "We are inundated," Susan Price says happily. "We've been doing three radio shows a week. Women are calling up saying, what's your [marriage] success rate? We do sessions by phone. We have women flying in from out west. And we get so many letters from women saying they read our book and they realize now how they did it to themselves. They are grateful."

It turns out that Susan Price does actually support feminist principles in one way—for herself. "When we first married, Steve couldn't understand my need for my own career and not wanting to be a homemaker," she recalls. "I got jobs [to support him] while he was in graduate school. He was being groomed for a career and what was I doing?" First she became a schoolteacher, but she didn't find it fulfilling enough. "I decided I wanted to be a therapist. So I went back to graduate school. The kids were still babies at the time. We hired a lot of baby-sitters and put them in a lot of nursery schools." Was any of this a mistake? "Oh, no. I love what I do."

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

#susan faludi #marriage #self help #antifeminism #female oppression #male entitlement #the more things change the more they stay the same

120 notes · View notes

shadowofahope · 2 months

Text

Love Revocation

Pairing: ImperialGuard!JungHoseok x Princess!Reader

Premise: Only your brothers would be willing to step in and try to change your future. But history isn't easy to overcome, even if it is all but forgotten.

Word count: 3.5K

Author's note: I've been watching a lot of historical k-dramas and c-dramas lately, and I can say it's an addiction at this point! If you have any favourites feel free to share! I'd love to watch your recommendations as well as talk about any mutual ones we love!

masterlist

One foot infront of the other, the crisp air of the afternoon breeze through your robes and hair, the light chatter of people in the market; it all gave you a bittersweet taste of Deja vu. Times like these felt right, but you had the feeling that nothing looked as it should. It could be the small taste of freedom mixed with the claustrophobic fear being chained somewhere. However, where the other end of the chain was you didn’t know. Or you did once, but it was lost with the rest of your memories from all those years ago.

You stopped trying to remember after the first two season changes, then you accepted your circumstances and adjusted yourself to where you were.

Arms full, you smile gracefully at the passing merchants and village people, the ones bowing at you when recognization transpired. You all but skip down the back path heading towards the palace again.

You promised mother you’d finish her painting of the place father asked for her hand today. You had beeen working on it for her birthday, but you were too excited to wait. So it may have been promised 2 weeks earlier then her day.

However, a shroud voice catches your attention before you make it to the next corner. You stop in your tracks to listen. If living in the palace taught you anything it was ‘to always know the concerns of your people’, were fathers exact words. In otherwords you took it as a sign that it was ok, in most situations to eavesdrop… at least a little.

“She is being forced to marry the oldest son of the emperor and empress. Her bloodline will muddy just as theirs already is.” A sinik male voice mocked.

“What do you mean by that?” You heard your brothers fiance ask. She was a headstrong woman. Not only that but she was radiant. The type of woman your brother deserved.

“Everyone knows the young lady is unfavoured by the gods. So if you bear a child with him your children will be inflicted with the same inability.” This time a female voice chimed in. Just as distasteful as the males.

“The princess is kind, witty, social, politically intelligent, well read, impactful, understanding and unworldly beautiful. Our children will be blessed to have her as their aunt.” Tayla lists, you smile to yourself. She didn’t have to defend your honour so seriosuly, but you silently thanked her none the less.

“You have your doubts. There is no way you do not feel some worry about tarnishing your family name. Its reputation will be dragged through the land if your children fail to develope as she has. They will be cursed as she is.”

Anyone talking about your family members however, you just couldn’t let it slide so easily.

“My brothers children will develop into the strongest blood line of these past 1000 years, we are in no need of your concern.” You step in, rounding the corner of the building. Your voice and demeanour remain calm, a smile on your lips as your mother had taught you when it came to political arguments. Remaing calm when the opposing side could not, as strategy she had learned in her youth.

What others said about you didn’t really bother you anymore. As a young child you always felt the sting of their harsh words. Like they were hoping you’d choke on them. But it had the opposite affect. It only drove you to try harder, to learn the ways of the palace. To push yourself past the limits that this life had given you.

“My lady!” Many courteous greetings are followed by formal bows. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I was out for a walk through the village to get a few supplies.” Holding up the items in your hands, you sidle up to your future sister in law. Taking a step between her and the small circle of ill intended pupils.

“We didn’t mean anything by it. We were just worried she hadn’t thought it through. Or raised concerns” One of the young males spoke quickly. You stifle a scoff, but continue to maintain your composure.

“I’m sure you are.” You eye him carefully, if you weren’t mistaken he was one of the many candidates who wanted Tayla’s hand in marriage. “However as I am not my mother and fathers birth daughter, you’ll be happy to know my genes will die with me.”

“You are not the child of the Emporer and Empress?” The small crowd gasps in unison. You could laugh at how comical their faces became.

Even so, amongst the mumbling in front of you there is a faint call from behind you, you turn to her.

“Mother and Father saved me when I was young. Knowing I could not cultivate nor could remember where I had come from or how I ended up where they found me, they showed compassion and mercy upon taking me in and raising me with their children.” You explain to her alone. “I am blessed beyond measure. And your children will hold the greatest of titles. ”

--------

A few days had past since your unexpenctant, informal announcement of your lineage. A very important matter had taken your attention, so you had all but forgotten already. You hear frantic footsteps approach your room. You brace your mind for the inevitable impact that would be your brothers. Your hand doesn’t still as it continues to write on the parchment of your lessons from today. Your doors burst wide open, not bothering to look up at them.

“Are you really planning to take the tether serum?” Your youngest brother demands breathlessly.

“You’re here earlier then I expected, I am almost surprised.” You smile to yourself. If you had placed money on them discovering your plans, it would not have been until at least a week had past.

“Don’t make light of this.” Your eldest brother scolds from the rear, coming up behind your younger brother, closing the doors to conceal your conversation.

“Why would you make such a thing?” Taehyung's bewilderment is something you had became accustomed to. He somehow always seemed shocked by your actions. Considering how long you had been in the family now, you would have thought he had understood you at least a little.

You let out a deep sigh, the air from your lungs feels cold as it leaves your body into the warm air.

“I want to be of use to mother and father in the end. Is that so outrageous as to incur your unmistakable wrath?” You choose your words carefully, not wanting to sadden them with todays ongoings but at the same time you know Seokjin’s fiance has already informed him of the other day.

“We both understand greatly how indebted you feel towards them, but to tether your lifeline to them as someone still young is unheard of.” Seokjin reasons, still standing in the middle of the room, you can see his robes out of your peripheral. Taehyung sits down in the place next to you, trying to get your attention.

“Elder brother is right. If they both pass then so shall you, your soul cannot be separated. You shall serve them into death and upon new life.” His tone turning sorrowful.

This time you look up at him, then towards your elder.

“My dear brothers, It’s no secret that no one would marry me before and now with my birth being admitted, I have somehow lost whatever leverage I may have had.”

“That’s not true.” You see the hurt in the youngers eyes, but what you've said is true. You all know it. You give him a sad smile, letting your hand drop the brush, and placing it over his on the table.

“I cannot cultivate. I have no sense of magic or any prowess. My soul has been deemed weak and now people know that I am not the Emperor and Empress' true daughter.” You direct your smile towards Seokjin. “I have been preparing myself for this outcome since we were young. Please, if you cannot understand me then at least accept that this is your sisters wish.”

--------

“The last time the two of you bowed this deeply to us was when you were young children and you and our son had broken a priceless family heirloom while you were training in the halls.” The Emperors longest friend muses from his seat. Him and his wife had known your parents since they were young, they were as close as family. Including their son, who happened to be the same age as you. So all four of you had grown up together.

“Uncle. Auntie. We are here to request an inordinate favour from you. One we know may be impossible for you to agree to, but we must ask this of you.” Seokjin’s whole body is tense. Everything he can do to save you from tethering yourself is hanging on this outcome.

“What is it?” Your aunt is more curious then worried by their request. Seeing them kneel before them was a shock bigger then they had ever expected.

Your brothers sit up straight.

“Our sister. As you know she is unable to cultivate. She has no skill in combat. Many have deemed her unworthy to bear our family name.” Seokjin’s voice comes out strong, but his hands are trembling slightly. “However, as you also know. Our sister is competent in the kitchen, and with chores of the home. She is patient and nurturing when she takes care of the palaces many children. She has beautiful skills in the way of art and embroidery. She is generous beyond measure and courteous to others. She deserves to have a future.”

“We both agree. She is a diamond amongst pebbles. But what brings this tone of concern?” Uncle is concerned.

“Our sister has decided to take the tether serum and serve our parents.” Taehyung explains. “We do not know if you have heard the word circling about our sister not being of our blood. But we are here to confirm it. Our parents took her in when I was newly born, she is all I’ve known to be an older sister.”

“We are aware of the talk. We were also there the day your parents found the young lady.” The Uncle assures. “You do not need to worry about our thoughts towards the princess.”

“I am curious to this favour. What do you wish to ask for?” Auntie pushes.

“Our sister wishes to tether herself for she believes no one will marry her.” Seokjin explains. They bow again in unison, as if they had practiced their movements and speech before appearing. “We ask of you to please propose a marriage contract to the Emporer and Empress between our sister and your son.”

Taehyung cuts in quickly before they can be dismissed.“We know he is your only son, but we beg of you. She respects your son and you, uncle and auntie. There are many things she may be useful for.”

“Useful? She is enough as she is. We know that very well.” Uncle states, making eye contact with his wife. The look of understanding flashing between the two, unseen by the young princes.

“Just as we know our son. He has felt feelings of affection for the young lady for quite some time. You might not know this but she was the reason he decided he wanted to join the guard.” The older woman conceals her giggle behind her hand. “I had never seen such a rambunctious boy turn so serious.”

“He knew?” They both shoot up in surprise. Their friend had never mentioned having any knowledge of your sisters situation. But then again, they had never spoken of this either.

“Yes. Our son was adamant that he would protect the princess. We could not sway his mind. Though we did not try to. We have never looked down on her because of her situation. She has become a well rounded beautiful woman, our son would be blessed to take her as his wife.” The Lord nods,

“Does that mean you will agree?” They feel giddy. They could save you.

The older couple share a fond smile.

“There is something our son has been drawn to since he was a young boy. We believe your sister is the key to his happiness.”

--------

“Hoseok, what are you doing here?” You beam, controlling your feet to not skip your way over to him. A lady never skips…at least not in front of others.

“Princess” He greets you with a bow and warm smile as he always does. “I was summoned by the Emperor and Empress. Why have you come?”

“I was requested by Uncle and Auntie to meet them here.” You explain. “What is going on? Do you think its about Mothers birthday feast tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure, but we should not keep them waiting. Let us go in.” He opens the doors and waits for you to enter first.

You hurry in, smiles directed at your parents then your uncle and aunt.

A large round table adorned with vast plates of food, both your fathers sat near the far end laughing and chatting away, raising a drink to eachother. Your mothers seated next to their husbands also tremendously cheerful.

You share a quick glance before bowing.

“Emperor. Empress.” He greets first.

“Uncle. Auntie.” You greet directly after.

“Children! Come in! Have a seat.” You father cheers happily. Your aunt waves a hand over to you for you to sit next to her.

You bound over to sit next to your aunt. Which just so happens to be next to Hoseok as well.

“We are celebrating this evening.” Your mother informs, her attention on him.

“What are we celebrating Empress?” Formality laced in his words. It made you smile, even if he was like another son to your parents he highly respected them.

“Lord and Lady Jung, have come to us with a proposal contract and we have agreed.” The Emporer boisterously exclaims.

“I’m sorry, Father and Mother I fear I do not comprehend.” You express, eye brows coming to meet in a frown.

You see a flash of something cross Hoseoks face, but you stay focused on your looking between your parents.

Your Aunt grabs both your hands, placing them in the space between you and forcing you to face her.

“The Emporer and emperess have accepted our proposal for our son and you to be wed.” She cheers brightly, hands giving yours a light squeeze.

“I’m to marry-?” You look back at him. Scared to see panic or disgust or even rage on his dazzling features. But there isn’t any sign of darkening. Only red tinted ears give away any emotions he’s feeling. That in itself leaves you astonished adn shaken.

Words of wedding ceremonies are abrupt in your ears. The pattern of the bedding for your marriage suite.

“But, Uncle, auntie. I’m not worthy of marrying your son.” You say it like it is a definite fact, interrupting their excited remarks.

“Nonsense!” Your father bellows, a bright smile never leaving his face, he places his arm around his long term friend, who shares an equally blinding smile. “You two shall be wed! It is a beautiful idea, one I wish we had thought of sooner.”

The laughter from the elders erupts once again, leaving you shell shocked. Remaining quiet you can’t bring yourself to look at anyone, opting to stare at the oak table in front of you. How did these events happen? You had just made the choice to…

A sinking feeling hits you all at once. Your brothers. They were the only ones that knew of your plans, other then the physician you had asked the tether serum about. They would be the ones to try to stop you.

You’d deal with them after this dinner. You’d confront them and talk to Hoseok about his rejecting the marriage proposal.

You just had to sit nicely until then.

--------

“What did you do?!” You stormed into the study room the next day, you knew your brothers had hidden themselves away. They always resided in the same place to try to escape you when they had done something they knew you would be unhappy with. You had been followed by Hoseok on your way there when you mentioned you were confronting your brothers, upon meeting him that morning.

“Sister. This is a study room. Please refrain from raising your voice.” Your oldest mock scolding you, book in hand.

“Then answer me. I know it was the two of you that have provoked the marriage idea.” You were pulling back your seething temper, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“Princess~” Hoseok calls calmly from behind you. You could feel him close behind you, not touching but close enough that you felt like you could breathe.

“What all of our parents decide to do we do not hold any influence over. You know as well as anyone.” Seokjin scoffs. The audacity he had to play ignorant at this moment was appalling.

“We may have brought up the idea of a union.” Taehyung supplies from the far end of the room.

“Why would you do this?” Exasperation seeps out of you. There was no point in hiding your displeasure or annoyance at these two. “You know I wish to be tethered.”

“Tethered?” Hoseok speaks again. “Who were you to be tethered to?”

“Mother and Father.” You state, angry eyes set on your brothers, but also not wishing to elaborate. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. You were all childhood friends, you wanted to tell him yourself when he had time away from his duties in the guard.

“She believes no one shall love her because she is unable to cultivate. She believes she is not worth dotting on.” Your elder brother chimes in, closing his book and sauntering over to you. “But that’s not true. Is it Hoseok?“

“No. It’s not.” Your childhood friends voice is stern, you had never heard it like this before, at least not targeted at you. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Is this why you wanted me to talk my parents out of this marriage?”

“I wanted to be tethered to mother and father because I wish to serve them for eternity.” Your jaw tense. Your core feeling as it had turned into stone.

“Look at me.” You have never heard his voice so cold and low, not even when he was at work. Something in you makes it impossible to deny him, so you do as he orders. You can see the fire behind his eyes, before your allow the flames to consume you you look towards the chilled marble ground. You hear muffled voices of your brother behind you but you can’t react. You feel warm fingers gently push your chin up ever so gently, forcing you to make eye contact. “Princess. Y/n. Is that really why?”

Your voice catches in your throat. A cough threatening to scratch its way out of you. “I am not like others. I cannot contribute to a high class home as I should. I’m…. broken.”

You had never felt so weak as you did in that moment, not since the days yo uhad been found. You could never lie to him. Not once.

He studies your face, searching for something. “Is it the worst to be betrothed to me?”

“What?” His question catches you off guard. You blink at him in confusion. Of course, you knew he would be angry at your decision, or at the very least angry with you for not trusting in him to discuss it.

“I can understand if you wish not to be wed to me because you do not think I’m adequate.” His voice soft like the look in his eyes. Soothing your anger towards your brothers in a instant, your only focus on him and the sad smile on his lips.

“That is ridiculous. I would not want it to be promised to any one else in this entire kingdom.” Why do you feel breathless?

“Good.” His hand slips away from your skin. For a mere second, you miss the contact before realizing what you said. Your face burns with embarrassment, your eyes scrunching closed at how idiotic you sounded to yourself. Had you lost your mind? “Then I will discuss with our parents for the ceremony to be held as soon as possible.”

The shock brings you back out of your inner reprimanding. But before you can formulate words he’s bowing to your brothers and then you and he’s gone.

“W-what just happened?” Your mind struggles to catch up.

Hearing your brothers snicker at you doesn’t’ help, you’re still frozen in place. Frozen staring at the now closed doors that Hoseok, your childhood friend, had left through.

Seokjins full laugh fills the room. “Looks like you’ll be a little bride faster than I will be a groom.”

masterlist

88 notes · View notes

hypergamiss · 2 months

Note

hi! im working on myself right now and can use all the motivation, inspiration, and knowledge i can get. can you recommend any online communities, books, youtubers? something/someone on the finance world is a plus (but not necessary) thank you so much! :)

I love this for you! This list is always changing for me, I might do a pinned post where I keep it up to date and it's a living and breathing source for everyone.

Here are some of my more recent favorites:

Youtube

Leo Skepi (therapeutical, a mix of personal growth and financial topics )

Our Rich Journey (personal finance, they touch on all the good basics)

Alux (financial, every video is thought provoking with high quality content and information)

Graham Stephan (financial, he does extremely thorough research that is always worth digesting)

Earn Your Leisure (some of the interviews are priceless with all of the gems the entrepreneurs drop in here)

Books (amazon/kindle)

The Courage to Be Disliked

The 5 Components of Love

Bear Market Investing Strategies

Discipline Is Destiny

Who Cooked the Last Supper

Always digest content/information with a grain of salt

37 notes · View notes

corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months

Text

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter seventeen

well it's love, make it hurt series

seventeen: it's you I can't deny

series masterlist | prev chapter | epilogue

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 4.7k

Summary: You and Din learn to know each other again.

Warnings: bdsm, d/s dynamics, enthusiastic consent, preestablished safeword etc, dom!din djarin x sub!reader, soft din djarin, din djarin is a good dad, long distance relationship, vaginal sex, oral (m & f receiving), communication, angst, major life decisions, author plays god with the timelines (sorry), canon adjacent?, canon divergence?, no use of y/n

a/n: my friends, this is the end. the epilogue will be posted on December 18.

i love you, and thank you for spending time with these two. it means more to me than you'll ever know.

also um just bear with me about what I've done to the canon timeline. it's only a little wonky.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

9 ABY - Fall

Despite his intentions, you don’t talk every day. It’s just not feasible. And maybe nights pass when you’re already asleep when he calls, but if it happens, he doesn’t mention it. You think he’s still afraid to scare you.

What scares you is how much you wouldn’t mind, and even that isn’t so frightening these days. This is easy, far easier than having to be stuck in hyperspace while you learn how to know him again.

When you ask him to tell you the story of how the kid became more than a bounty, you can hear the smile in his agreement. Can hear how glad he is that you want to talk to him, that you want to know.

He tells you the whole thing, and another night, he tells you about the Purge.

You didn’t ask about that one, could never have. It’s an awful, agonizing story, and it leaves you raw. But it feels important that he shared it with you, allowed you to take on some of his pain, and bear witness to his sorrow.

One night, after a few of radio silence, he calls to tell you he’s in a town on Tatooine. There’s a sick anger in his voice as he describes the man who was not a Mandalorian and the agreement they made.

“Should have just killed him and taken it,” you grumble.

“I think he might be a good man,” Din admits.

It’s high praise, you think, coming from him. He might be the only good man you’ve ever met.

He promises to call after, and you don’t worry, even when several days go by.

You don’t.

The way your body feels warm for the first time in days when he finally calls has nothing to do with it.

You roll your eyes at his story, of how Vanth almost ruined the whole thing by refusing the Tuskens’ drink, of how he blows off defeating a krayt dragon as something simple. It surely wouldn’t have been without him, from the sounds of it.

Later, when he tells you the full story, you take back all of the compliments you had given his strategy and competency. (But you forgive him. He wasn’t wrong, really. You weren’t ready to hear it then.)

9 ABY - Winter

You tell him the things you held close before. The things you kept stitched up, that you thought would make you more of a person than an idea, if he knew them.

Some of them were the building blocks you knew would betray you—the day your parents died. The first time you sucked cock for food. Your first kill.

Stories you’d never shared and tried your best to forget.

Moreso, though, you try to share the little things. The things that you wouldn’t have had to share before when you lived your days side by side.

You bitch about bounties.

You gossip about your neighbor Moshi’s on-again-off-again relationship with the Rodian couple down the street (they’re on again right now—you know because you get a lot less sleep lately).

You tell him how you went to the market for new shoes and came back with a little gorg-shaped instrument that makes croaking sounds for the kid instead.

(“How loud is it?” he asks, with no small amount of apprehension. “Loud,” you tell him with a grin.)

He sulks a little the next time he calls. He wanted to see you before moving on, but the next lead was time-sensitive and drawn out.

“That’s too bad,” you say, voice soft and low.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He almost restrains the hope in his voice.

You’d laugh, but you’re honestly a little nervous. But it’s easier to say this than any of the other things haunting your mind during those sleepless nights. “Oh, I don’t know. Been thinking a lot about having your cock in my mouth again.”

There’s a strangled groan from the other side of the comm. “Cyar’ika,” he warns.

“You don’t want me to get on my knees for you?”

“I do, but I can’t talk about this right now.”

“You don’t have to talk,” you say. “You can just listen.”

In the end, he has to lock himself in the fresher. When he can’t help but cum, you think you might understand why he likes to have power over you.

He does promise to get you back for it, though. If it’s supposed to be a threat, it’s not a very effective one.

But Din being Din, he throws you off balance. “Don’t you dare touch yourself until I get there,” he says after. “If—if that’s still alright.”

A shudder runs through you. “Yes, sir,” you whisper. It aches in your throat on the way out, but you’re not afraid.

He means to tease you next time. Instead, you know something’s wrong as soon as he calls.

He deflects. He’s not ready to think about it, about Bo-Katan Kryze and what she had said about his people. You let him change the subject without pushing it, but he knows you’re not happy about it.

And he knows that not knowing will be worse for you. That you’ll think he just doesn’t want to talk to you. That you’ll simply shut him back out.

So he tells you. He tells you how angry he is at them for their disrespect. “It’s got to do with why our people were so divided before,” he admits. “I can accept that they have different beliefs about what it means to be a Mandalorian. But—”

“But they didn’t have to be such bitches about it! She straight up said ‘cult’?”

He laughs. Your righteous indignance soothes his anger. “You going to fight her for me, sweetheart?”

“What, you don’t think I could take her?”

“Well, she’s got head-to-toe beskar.”

“But she takes the helmet off, so all ll I have to do is punch her in the face.”

He can’t help but laugh again, grinning foolishly in the empty hull of the Crest.

“You know, you’re being pretty rude to someone ready to fight a trained warrior for disrespecting you.”

“I’m not. I just—thank you.”

“You’ve lost it.” You roll your eyes when he just laughs again.

“I might have,” he admits when he’s settled down. It wasn’t really funny, after all. But the abrupt switch from betrayed fury to the overwhelming affection made him feel happier than he had in a long time.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly soft and serious.

“What?”

“I miss you.” It was the first time he had said anything of the sort on these calls. But the danger of setting off your alarms, of causing you to run, seemed so much less these days.

You’re quiet for a moment. You let the feeling sink in and breathe through it. It’s okay, you remind yourself, it’s not a dangerous thing. He’s not asking you to run away with him.

He’s not asking you for anything.

“Yeah, I miss you, too,” you say. You’re quiet, like it’s a secret, and you guess it kind of was. A secret you’ve spilled now, and can’t just wash away.

He doesn’t know what to say. He said it because he wanted you to hear it, not because he ever imagined you’d admit it, too.

But he doesn’t have to figure it out. You surprise him again, and ask, “How far is Corvus?”

“From Batuu? I’m not sure. I’ll look it up later.”

“No, I meant from you, like how long until you get there.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going there first. I’m coming to you.”

“Are you sure? Don’t delay your mission just because I—”

“I’m not delaying it because you miss me. I’m delaying it because there’s time and I miss you. The nav was set before I called.”

You meet him at the docking bay. Well, you time your dinner around his estimated arrival, but it’s basically the same thing. A compromise you made with yourself.

Rather than waiting there, feeling stupid in public, or waiting in your apartment, still feeling stupid but alone, you’d just get something to eat. Still, you can’t help but watch out for the Crest on the horizon. When you spot it, the nausea you’ve been fighting in the four days since he told you he was coming returns tenfold.

It doesn’t take him long to find you, sliding into the seat beside you. It’s all very smooth, the way he wraps an arm around your waist and presses his helmet briefly to your forehead.

You flush and try to focus on your tip yip and grains.

“You know,” he says, letting you go so you can eat. “If you want to fight people for disrespecting me, start with the di’kut trying to pass that stew off as Mandalorian. It’s a joke.”

You cover your mouth when you laugh so you don’t drop rice all over. “Oh, I know. I told him there was no way it was really Mandalorian. It was edible. My face didn’t even come close to melting off.”

He shakes his head, bumping his shoulder against yours. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle it.”

“Maybe you’re just a bad cook.”

“You never complained about anything else I made.”

“Well, yeah, almost anything’s better than ration packs.”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he insists. “That’s what makes it tiingilar. It can’t be called tiingilar if it doesn’t make your sinuses burn.”

You grin up at him, eyes bright, before the look falls abruptly off your face, and you turn back to your food.

He’s not sure what he’s done.

But you take a minute, take a breath, and swallow down the terror. “Sorry, I got a little overwhelmed. It’s still weird, you know. To see you,” is what you finally say.

“It’s okay.”

From anyone else, you’d bristle at the platitude, but from Din… well, you know he means it. It really is just okay. You set down your spork. “He asleep?” You nod at the closed pram.

“Yeah, just fell asleep before we landed. Should be out for a while.”

Another grin creeps across your face, sly and pleased. “So, we’ve got a few hours?”

His fingers twitch into fists for a moment. “You, um. Are you done eating?”

You laugh, standing up and closing the lid of the takeout box. By the time he stands, you’re walking down the road. “You coming or what?”

He catches up with you easily, the pram trailing silently behind. “You first,” he promises, taking your free hand in his.

After he parks the pram in the living room, he stops and studies you, head tilted. “We don’t have to,” he starts. “I didn’t—I want to spend time with you, it doesn’t—”

“Din,” your voice is soft as you approach him, winding your arms around his neck. “I don’t think you’ve been talking to me practically every night for months, all just to get your dick wet.”

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pull down on his neck until he leans forward. You press your forehead to his helmet.

His hands find your waist and hold tight. For a moment, you find peace in the solidity of him after only having his voice for so long.

His embrace feels like coming home.

After several reassurances that yes, you did want this, he finally beckoned you to your bedroom without a sound. You found yourself knelt between his thighs at the end of the bed, moving on instinct with him and reading his intent in the line of his body.

“Open,” he says, voice soft but firm.

You obey. The command has you a little dizzy, and how is this so easy? So easy to slip right back into your place at his feet, so easy to just listen.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he lifts your chin with two gloved fingers, “You want to be so good for me, don’t you?” He’s close enough like this that you can hear the way he croons, voice velvet beneath the crackle of the helmet.

You give a small nod, not wanting to knock his hand away. He rewards you by sliding it up to cup your cheek in his palm. You waver, but don’t melt completely, not yet.

“I know,” he says, running his thumb over your tongue. The glove is rough and metallic, and you whimper with the effort of keeping your jaw stretched open, aching to take whatever he’ll let you. He chuckles, shoving it further into your mouth.

“Go on then,” he says with a slight tip of his helmet. Immediately, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently licking and sucking on the coarse tip, pushing it deeper so you can reach the leather at his knuckle.

“That’s it. You feel better already?”

You groan around your mouthful, eyes falling shut. He shifts his grip on your chin to the other hand in order to thrust the digit deeper, brushing against the roof of your mouth. It tickles in the worst way, and you attempt to choke down the cough by swallowing more of him. He pulls his thumb from your mouth.

Your heart sinks, but the whine that sneaks out is muffled by two long fingers, two long, bare fingers that are unceremoniously shoved down your throat. He curls them a little, pressing down on the back of your tongue, and lets out a soft groan when you fight the urge to gag by swallowing hard, the soft walls clenching around his fingers.

“There you go,” he whispers, bringing the other hand—now also bared—to hold the side of your face. Between the feeling of his skin against your cheek and the salty taste of his fingers on your tongue, you don’t even notice as you start to slip. Eyes fluttering shut. Drool leaking between his fingers from your stretched lips. He continues to murmur, but you hear little beyond the rumble of his voice.

He taps his hand lightly against your cheek, just firm enough to be on the sharp side. You blink, taking in the way he’s leaning back, head cocked to the side. He pulls the fingers out of your mouth and just sits there for a second.

Oh kriff. He asked you something. “Um,” and your voice creaks a little, “what?”

He shakes his head, neither cruel nor dismissive. “Cyar’ika,” the baritone is a notch lower, “I need you to stay with me for now.” His thumb rubs circles on your cheek. “I’ll help you down when we’re ready.”

“Okay,” you say, little more than a whisper.

“What do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” His cock throbs a little when a shudder runs through you at the praise.

He can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t think you can, either. You're staring at the line of his cock through his flightsuit.

Despite his urgency, he moves slowly, making sure you’re following his hands as they rub over his length through the fabric. He chokes back a moan and is rewarded for his silence by hearing yours.

Your mouth is still open. Waiting. Your hands are on your knees, fingernails digging in through your trousers.

He pulls his cock out, and you whimper, but don’t falter. “Look at you,” he murmurs, holding himself in one hand and your chin in the other.

He doesn’t make you wait longer, can’t. He holds you in place, groaning as he settles himself on your tongue.

You moan at the taste, and he takes the opportunity to grab your hair and thrust in. You gag but don’t tap out, instead pushing forward to take him deeper.

“Fuck,” he moans, already panting with the effort to hold back. He tries to hold still, to let you take what you need from him. He can feel the way you’re still trying to pay penance for a sin he doesn’t think you’ve committed. He doesn’t like it, but it’s less desperate than when you begged him to hurt you for it, so he lets you offer yourself this way. It’s safer, controlled.

And he can’t say he’s not enjoying being the focus of your worship.

You think fleetingly of him asking you to stay present, and grab at his hand while you drool around his cock. With his fingers in your grasp, you tug a little and whine, throat fluttering around him.

“Go ahead, ner kar’ta,” he says, clasping your hand in his and stroking the other through your hair. “I’ve got you.”

So when you start feeling like you’ll float away, you let it happen. Your mind quiets in the way only he has ever helped you achieve, and with his hands tethering you, you give yourself to him completely.

He fucks into your mouth roughly, now. You take everything he gives, and more, still licking and sucking when he allows. When he abruptly pulls out, you whine but don’t move, swaying a little where you kneel, eyes closed.

“Up, cyar’ika,” he says, and helps you climb onto the bed. You peer up at him as he arranges you how he wants, arms above your head with your hands clasped, knees bent and spread wide at the end of the mattress.

He turns the light off.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper.

The hiss of his helmet follows. Your window is closed, curtains drawn, and no light sneaks into the room. His hands find your thighs and squeeze, reassuring you of his closeness, and giving you warning as he sinks to his knees and licks from your cunt to your clit with no hesitation.

His hands slide down to hold you open, and it doesn’t take long before you’re begging. You had already been soaked from sucking his cock, anyway.

He pulls back minutely. “I don’t know, cyare, you weren’t very nice, teasing me the other night.”

“Please, sir, I’m sorry,” you cry.

His thumb flicks at your clit. “I’m just teasing you, pretty girl. Cum all you want tonight. I’ve got five years' worth to collect.”

And who the fuck just says things like that? But you don’t consider it long, because the second his tongue is back on you, you cum, crying his name.

It sounds just as irresistible as he imagined. He’s already starving, but it makes him ravenous.

He pulls two more orgasms from you before he stands up and sheathes his cock in your warm cunt, swearing as you bear down around him, pulling him in.

“Such a good girl,” he bends over you, your legs around his waist, and presses his lips to every inch of your skin that he can reach. His teeth catch on the line of your neck and the curve of your breast before capturing your bottom lip, pulling you open for him to push inside your mouth. He consumes without restraint, gorging himself on your moans and cries.

When he buries himself as deep as possible and cums, you join him, enveloping him in the heat of your release. He stays rooted inside you, looming over you, as you shake and start to cry.

It’s wrong, though.

It doesn’t feel like the way you used to crack open under his fingers and let him carve out all your distress. It’s not a burst of catharsis or a moment of blossoming under the deluge.

“Cyar’ika,” he cups your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you plead between sobs that wrack your whole body. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

He carefully extracts himself and lays beside you, gathering you into his chest. “It’s okay. I understand,” he says, even though he thinks maybe something inside him isn’t going to survive this.

You don’t hold him back, arms folded into the space between you. But you do bury your face into him and sob until you can breathe again.

“Din,” you whimper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Can you tell me why?” he asks. He presses a kiss into your hair, though he knows he shouldn’t, not now.

You let out a shaky sigh that threatens to crack into a new round of cries. You shouldn’t let him; you should stop him, but the sobs get stuck in your throat and fade when he kisses you.

It gives you the nerve to speak. “I love you.”

He freezes, baffled. “What?”

“I love you, Din. I thought I could ignore everything and be happy with whatever you could give me, but I can’t do it again. I can’t.” You also can’t stop talking, now that you’re finally admitting it all to him and to yourself. “There’s no place for me in your life, and I just. I’m not doing that to myself. I can’t watch you leave again.”

“So come with me,” he whispers, both your hands clasped in his. It’s still flawlessly dark, but he has his sweaty forehead against yours, and you can feel the curve of his nose with your own. He steals a kiss. “Please, cyare.”

“My whole life is here,” you tell him again, but it feels like a lie with the way your lips chase his for more. Your apartment is here. Your possessions are here. But there wasn’t anything you couldn’t walk away from. That wasn’t really the issue.

“So keep it. Keep the apartment, the connections. We’ll come back after.”

“Din, I—” you try again. The words are scrambling to leave you, only restrained by the horrible anxiety of having to hear the truth spoken aloud.

“Tell me exactly what you’re afraid of, cyare. I can help. We’ve always been stronger together.”

“What happens after?”

“After what?”

“I don’t know. After. When you go home, and I can’t go with you. I can’t do the same thing again, Din; I’m not made for it. Not for what you’re asking me to give in between.” It wouldn’t—couldn’t be casual, this time. Not with the way his love for you has survived the last five years. And if you’re really honest, not with the way your love for him has survived, too.

It’s a petrifying thought. Except it isn’t quite. Not anymore. Maybe it’s why you’re confident in these boundaries, ready to admit you aren’t capable of the same untethered companionship. You’ve loved and lost him enough to know it has to be all or nothing.

And he can’t give you all. So it has to be nothing.

His shaky breath floods across your lips. “What if you could go with me?”

You sit back a little, but don’t pull your hands from his. His thumb is tapping against your knuckle. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m putting any pressure on you. I just want to—it’s just an option, okay?”

“What’s an option, Din? You’re making me nervous.”

He takes another deep breath with a slow exhale. “I think I’ve told you before, but being a Mandalorian is a Creed. A choice. There are no rules about who can or can’t swear it, as long as they’re committed.” He pauses, and when you don’t react, he adds, “and you can walk away at any time. It doesn’t have to be until death. You just can’t come back if you leave.”

You do let go of his hands, now. Not because you’re pulling away from him, but because what you think he’s trying to say is overwhelming. You bury your face in your palms and try to parse his words.

“I’m sorry, that’s—I shouldn’t ask that much of you.”

You put a finger up and remember that he can’t really see. “Shh, just give me a second, okay?”

You mull the concept around. It seems like such a monumental thought, an idea of incredible ridiculousness.

But really, what would change about your life? You would hunt. You would carry a small arsenal of weapons.

What would you lose? The ability to show your face?

It meant nothing in comparison to what you could gain.

“What if I went through everything, and then you decide you don’t want me?”

“That won’t happen.”

“Din. I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“No, ugh,” you grind your teeth. “I need to know, realistically.”

“Realistically? Then when you kick my ass for it, you’ll be in full beskar, and it’ll be a fair fight.”

You can’t help but laugh, even if it's a weak, shaky thing stolen from your breath.

“Cyar’ika. I have no intention of being apart from you if I can help it. But I promise that if something were to happen, there would still be a place for you with the Mandalorians. We don’t abandon our own.”

It doesn’t quite compute. He knows that. Knows the way that even before your parents died, there was no one else. Everyone always willing to cut you open and take. But, if you do this, you’ll learn.

And he wants so badly to give that to you. A family. One way or another.

He takes advantage of your silence, rolling onto his back and pulling you against him, tucked into his arm, where you should be. He kisses your hair and rubs a hand over your back, nails gliding gently over your shoulder blades. Every touch you let him steal while you think over his proposition gives him hope.

You’re not running. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But you don’t answer him that night. Instead, you let yourself be lulled to sleep by his warm body and soothing motions. He takes it as a good sign when you drift off.

The kid wakes first in the morning. It’s for the best, since he forgot to put his helmet back on when he fell asleep. Din regretfully slips out of bed, tucking you in. He helps himself to your kitchen and starts a pot of caf before working up a breakfast.

He’s frying eggs when he hears you up and moving around the bedroom. He keeps to his cooking, trying to temper his expectations by reminding himself that you very well may slip out the window.

But you don’t. You come out of the bedroom and sit on one of the metal stools tucked under your countertop.

“Good morning, cutie,” you say to the baby, who is sitting in your sink with the faucet running, filling a bowl, and dumping it out over and over. The drain is open, making sure no water accumulates, and he seems fascinated by the flow. He abandons it, however, when he sees you, cooing and reaching his hands out to you.

“I don’t know, buddy; let me grab a towel first.”

Din tosses you one from your drawer without breaking away from his task.

“Look at that,” you tell the baby. “Like magic.”

Din snorts under the helmet. If only you knew.

Actually, he thinks, he should probably tell you.

But later. When he’s not struggling to keep focus, pretending like his hands aren’t shaking, like he’s not waiting while you hold his heart in your palms and decide what to do with it.

While you dry the kid off and let him climb on your shoulders and head, he plates the meal, setting his own aside.

The kid lunges for the plate, but you catch him. “No way, it’s still hot. Be patient,” you tell him.

Din catches himself staring right as you do.

“What?” you say.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head and pries the kid off you, untangling his little claws from your sleep-addled braid so you can eat in peace.

You thank him quietly when he sets the plate in front of you, and you start to eat, though you mostly just push the food around with your fork.

“Did you mean it?” you ask finally.

“Completely.” His voice is thick and heavy with hope.

“You want me to become a Mandalorian.”

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyway. “Yes. I want you to come home with me. I want to be by your side, always, if you’ll have me.”

You hum, falling back into thought, and eat your breakfast. When you’ve finished, you push the plate away and stand up. “I’m going to get dressed. Let me know when you’re done eating.”

He knocks on your door ten minutes later, having taken an extra few minutes to wash the dishes. When you open it, you’re in one of your go-to hunting outfits, and your pack is strapped to your back.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. Take me home, Din.”

*title from "My Blue Heaven" by Taking Back Sunday

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #dom din djarin #make it hurt verse

55 notes · View notes

woowhouse · 3 months

Text

Binance Exclusive: Start Trading with $100 for Free!

Take your first steps into the exciting realm of cryptocurrency trading with Binance! Sign up now and receive a complimentary $100 to kickstart your trading journey. Explore a diverse selection of cryptocurrencies, hone your trading skills, and potentially turn that initial $100 into something more. Don't miss this exclusive offer – seize the opportunity to trade on Binance with free funds! #binance #cryptotrading #freemoney Link Below : https://bit.ly/BinanceFree100

0 notes

scfrozenover · 5 months

Text

It's the last day of reveals! We hope you've enjoyed all the wonderful holiday fics so far, and here are a few more tasty treats!

Creator reveals will begin one week from today (12/30)!

*❄️*

DAY SIX REVEALS

Merry Christmas, David Rose

[David/Patrick, E, 14,031 words]

He doesn’t have any intention of staying in Schitt’s Creek, he knows it’s a stepping stone on his path to, hopefully, something better for him.

And he can’t imagine working here for too long: a shopping mall named Pa-Ray-dise, for a ridiculous man that insists on using his face as a marketing strategy –despite Alexis’ best efforts.

He exhales and looks at the people closing their stores and getting ready to go home. In front of him, on the lower floor, he observes how Alexis’ brother closes the store he works in and starts rolling a scarf around his neck as he walks towards the exit. The thought that he’s beautiful surprises Patrick, who’s never thought about a man on those terms before. But he is. Jet black hair, perfectly coiffed, long lean legs, a strong upper body wrapped in an expensive looking coat…

David. His name is David, his brain supplies.

Patrick watches him leave, feeling unsettled by the sudden impulse to follow the man, and a strange sensation unexpectedly lodged on his gut.

*❄️*

A Cold Winter's Night

[David/Patrick, T, 5,148 words]

They fell asleep not long after sliding between the covers, Patrick spooning David, as they often did, already dreaming of the white Christmas he hoped they’d wake up to, and the prospect of sharing more Brewer holiday traditions with his husband in the morning.

What he didn’t expect was to wake up in the wee hours of the morning with chattering teeth and David clinging to him like a koala bear, not to mention a distinct chill in the air that was most definitely not right.

*❄️*

Johnny on the Spot

[David/Patrick, G, 3,727 words]

Patrick and David visit the Brewers for Christmas for the first time since Patrick has moved to Schitt's Creek.

*❄️*

we'll take a cup of kindness yet

[David & Rachel, G, 1,945 words]

He hasn’t actually seen Rachel since that fateful day at the motel. She didn’t come to the wedding, though she was invited. He knows that she and Patrick have been talking more and more, trying to work their way across the crevasse of time and history to becoming what they always should have been, which is best friends. David’s interactions with her have been minimal, though, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to see her here—he doesn’t do well with surprises, especially when that surprise is his husband’s ex-fiancée looking at mediocre cheese.

David runs into Rachel while on an errand for Marcy and it's definitely not weird at all.

*❄️*

[podfic] Friends and Family Night

[Stevie/Twyla, G, 17:01]

“I want to meet Twyla,” David said as he plopped into a seat next to Stevie’s desk. She raised her eyebrows at him in what she hoped was a very clear ‘no.’

Aka, the Score adjacent fic where David wants to meet Stevie's girlfriend Twyla.

*❄️*

CREATORS: If your works were released today, please don’t forget to update your posting date!

#schitt's creek #scfrozenover #patrick brewer #david rose #stevie budd #twyla sands #sc fanworks #sc fanfic #schitts creek #sc frozenover #sc podfic

37 notes · View notes

tim-official · 5 months

Text

i commiserate with the people who complain "holy shit why is this site/platform/OS adding more algorithmically driven content/AI shit/ bad UI design, nobody likes this!" but i think the framing of these posts is often wrong. it bears repeating that in the vast majority of these cases, they absolutely do not care whether or not you like the feature. whether or not you enjoy the service or the service is nice to use is not a consideration. you are not the customer they are trying to please. usually, they are trying to please advertisers, though a company trying to pursue a strategy of growth (i.e. rideshare apps, probably discord l o l) is trying to please private equity. microsoft putting a GPT chatbot into the windows UI by default is not because anyone wanted it - they are trying to force adoption of a product to create a market for it

i think this makes it easier to understand all the "baffling" choices made by the services we all use. it's better to talk about them as actively malicious rather than just "bad decisions no one likes"

40 notes · View notes

koreanboybands · 2 months

Text

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 ! Domestic Sales Team │ Wooyoung Jeong, Associate Achieved first place in company-wide sales in the shortest period of time! An all-rounder who captivates customers with a bright smile

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄! Logistics Team │ Deputy Manager Choi Jong-ho Filling ATINY’s heart with love The king of fast and accurate Sunshine Bear delivery!

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 ! Financial Accounting Team │ Assistant Manager Song Min-ki Power T-like thorough financial management and Precise work processing is a big win!

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄! Human Resources Team │ Assistant Manager San Choi Firm value judgment and likes people like a cat Ace with all friendly communication skills

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄! Product Development Team │ Employee Yeosang Kang Because ATINY’s skin is precious..! Smart Doberman researcher

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄! Public Relations Team │ Team Leader Seonghwa Park A star of marketing who makes the brand shine through meticulous and delicate communication

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄! Overseas Sales Team │ Assistant Manager Jeong Yunho A global sales king who is reaching out to the world by shaking the hearts of everyone in the world with

𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙓 𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙕 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄! Management Strategy Team │ Team Leader Hongjoong Kim The best captain who leads the achievement of corporate vision and goals

#ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez hongjoon #ateez hong joong #ateez #ateez x nacific #ateez woo young #ateez san #ateeze jongho #ateez yunho #ateez seonghwa #ateez Hongjoon

21 notes · View notes

theculturedmarxist · 7 months

Text

Yves here. You are getting a Sunday extra on the conflict in Gaza and where it looks set to be headed, given Hamas’ apparent strategy, the dug in position of the US and Israel, and the so far on-track behavior of the Arab world.

John Helmer’s post clinically and persuasively draws conclusions that most commentators, including yours truly, have been loath to state clearly, perhaps because depicting the likelihood of bad outcomes somehow feels as if it increases the odds they come to pass (magical thinking cults and their lesser “intention” cousins illustrate this superstitious tendency).

Even though the earlier part of Helmer’s analysis is based on known facts (at least if you’ve been paying attention), he adds critical information about the implications of even a shortish war with Israel’s neighbors on Israel, and the apparently-not-heretofore-reported sighting that China has naval vessels in the Persian Gulf that have anti-sub and anti-missile capabilities.

It’s not hard to conclude from Helmer’s depiction that with the US and Israel unwilling to accept a loss and the lack of any adults on “our team” mean the odds of eventual nuclear war are way too high. And if you think Helmer is too pessimistic, listen to the section from Larry Johnson in the broadcast on Judge Napolitano with Ray McGovern. Starting at 11:40, Johnson describes how Pakistan has offered to send some of its nukes to Türkiye in case of a dustup with Israel.

By John Helmer, the longest continuously serving foreign correspondent in Russia, and the only western journalist to direct his own bureau independent of single national or commercial ties. Helmer has also been a professor of political science, and an advisor to government heads in Greece, the United States, and Asia. He is the first and only member of a US presidential administration (Jimmy Carter) to establish himself in Russia. Originally published at Dances with Bears

Preamble1. Since 1943 the US and its European allies, including Germany (Olaf Scholz’s government, not Adolf Hitler’s), have aimed to liquidate the secular nationalist Arab leadership capable of co-existence with the West and a state for the Jewish people.

2. In Palestine Hamas has studied seventy-five years of lessons on the impossibility of coordinating Arab state war in the defence of the Palestine part of the two-state solution.

3. For more than a year, therefore, Hamas has prepared in well-kept secret an offensive against Israel to achieve five objectives – the first to demonstrate how inferior the Israeli military is, how vulnerable, how incompetent their intelligence on the Arab world. This has been achieved by the initial attack of October 7.

4. The second Hamas objective has been to demonstrate the Israeli plan of ethnic cleansing of Gaza, genocide against the Arabs, and incorporation of all Israeli-occupied territories in a single theocratic Zionist state — Quod erat demonstrandum. The third objective is to hold out against the expected Israeli counterattack for long enough to activate the Hezbollah forces on the northern Lebanon front; Syrian and Iranian forces on the eastern Golan front; and the West Bank Palestinians, including the Jordanian Palestinians; the latter’s targets will be US air and armoured land force bases in Jordan. So far, so good.

5. The final Hamas objectives are to compel the vacillating sheikhdoms to resist US pressure; limit oil and gas supplies to the enemy markets; prevent regional land base and air transit rights being activated in support of Israel — so far, so good. And lastly, the fifth objective, to engage the friendly nuclear powers – Russia, China – to deter, and if necessary combat US forces in the region and Israel’s threat to fire its nuclear weapons.

The rules of war 6. These aren’t in the code of secular international humanitarian law referred to in the western media and by UN officials in support of Israel. Those rules were eliminated by the destruction of two generations of Arab leaders willing to abide by them. The war doctrine of Hamas does not concede that international law may dictate to or supersede Islamic law. In parallel, the war doctrine of Israel is that Jewish and Israeli law supersedes every other.

This report is the most comprehensive record in English to date of the official Israel statements of genocide against the Gaza Palestinians in intention, policy and practice. Source: https://ccrjustice.org/ In 1948, the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide expressly included in Article II “the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group”. Forty years later, in 1988, the US Congress added two qualifiers to the provision in the US criminal code which defines genocide as a crime to be prosecuted if Americans commit it. This new US law declared genocide is “the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in substantial part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group”. “Substantial part,” the statute now said, meant “a part of a group of such numerical significance that the destruction or loss of that part would cause the destruction of the group as a viable entity within the nation of which such group is a part.” So long as the genocidal Arab killer isn’t “specific” in intention and the part of the people attacked isn’t “substantial”, the killer is off the hook in the US criminal code. This was a calculated US change to the crime of genocide. The US senator who drafted it and promoted it into law was Joseph Biden. For more, read The Jackals’ Wedding – page 14-18.

7. The Hamas offensive of October 7, OPERATION AL AQSA FLOOD ( عملية طوفان الأقصى, amaliyyat ṭūfān al-ʾAqṣā), is, as its code name indicates and in the interpretation of Islamic law, lawful self-defence, and the killing of Israelis, including civilians, lawful according to the retribution doctrine of Qisas. It’s clear there is a Koranic injunction against killing non-combatants, particularly children, the infirm, the old, and women. When women are combatants, as they are in the kibbutzim, they lose their exemption; also children, if they are armed and trained. So, the evidence question is — how many children under the age of arms-bearing were killed at the border settlements on October 7? And how did they die – by Hamas directly, or in crossfire between Hamas and IDF? The Israelis say one thing; Hamas says nothing.

8. It is clear the Israeli rules of war allow indiscriminate killing of children in offensive and defensive operations, in retribution and in collective punishment. No Palestinian Arab or Iranian is in any doubt that this has been Israeli policy from the beginning; that it has always been US policy to support it; and that the destruction of Gaza is the current episode of the long laid plan.

The two-state solution 9. Zionist ideology and Israel’s constitution have ruled out the two-state solution.

Source: https://perma.cc/9PZN-DJGY

10. The Arab state supporters of the two-state solution (including Fatah and the Palestine National Authority) cannot support it when Gaza is being liquidated by the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), supplied by the Pentagon.

11. President Joseph Biden’s (lead image) recent public remarks endorse Israel’s one-state solution, adding his personal religious benediction — “may God protect our troops”. Until he said that, Biden had limited himself to invoking God’s protection of “our troops” in speeches on the Afghanistan War in April 2021 and on the war against Russia in the Ukraine in February 2023. Before Biden, it was President George Bush Jr. who claimed God on the US side when he meant self-defence – “we will defend our freedom. We will bring freedom to others and we will prevail. May God bless our country and all who defend her.” With Biden the Christian, and Secretary of State Antony Blinken declaring himself Jewish in Israel, the war of Israel against Gaza is a theocratic one, a crusade. This is how it is understood now throughout the Muslim world.

12. According to God, therefore, there is only a one-state solution – it is either Palestine or Israel.

The current battlefield situation 13. On the Gaza front, Hamas has fought the IDF to a standstill outside the Gaza border wall. The Israel Air Force has dropped about 4,000 tonnes of bombs per week, 8,000 tonnes to October 21; that is more than the US Air Force dropped on Afghanistan in the peak year of 2019. More than 3,500 Palestinians have been killed so far, including at least 1,030 children and hundreds of family units; more than 12,500 people have been injured, one million Palestinians displaced, and thousands of homes destroyed. About 1,200 are missing believed to be trapped under the rubble. The Israeli and US government record, reported by the Institute for the Study of War (ISW) in Washington, documents the continuing firing from Gaza into Israeli territory in what the ISW calls its “Iran updates”. A prolonged IDF siege threatens to kill several hundred thousand Palestinians by starvation, dehydration, disease, and a combination of artillery and aerial bombardment, while leaving the Hamas forces relatively unscathed and waiting to inflict a higher rate of casualties on the IDF than it has ever experienced.

14. On the northern front across the Lebanon border, there have been exchanges of missile, drone, anti-tank rocket, artillery, and mortar fire between the IDF and Hezbollah. There have been casualties on both sides. Border settlements on the Israeli side have been evacuated to the south. For a summary of the ISW reports favouring Israel, read this; For maps and summaries of military action as of October 20 on the Gaza and northern fronts, as well as the Golan and West Bank, click to open.

Incident map on the northern front between October 12 and 17; source: https://www.washingtonpost.com/

15. US forces on the Jordan front. The Israeli press has been reporting some details of USAF reinforcements at the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base in the northeastern corner of Jordan and possible Marine deployments in Jordan. Whether the Marines will be moved to defend the Al-Tanf base on the Syrian side of the border, 230 kilometres northeast of Muwaffaq Salti, isn’t known.

Top, right – the US airbase at Muwaffaq Salti; source: https://twitter.com/ According to an Israeli report, “a squadron of U.S. F-15E Strike Eagle bombers based in Britain was deployed over the weekend at the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base east of the Jordanian capital of Amman. Another squadron of A-10 attack aircraft has also been deployed there.” Bottom, the location of Al-Tanf in Syria across the Jordanian and Iraqi borders.

16. Russian and Chinese navy deployments. The Russian fleet based at Tartous, Syria, is at sea, as reported here. At the moment, there are as many, possibly more Chinese vessels of the 44th Naval Escort Task Force in the Persian Gulf. The anti-surface, anti-submarine, and anti-air missile capabilities of the Type-052D destroyer can be followed here, and of the Type-054A frigate here. For the time being, the significance of this Chinese screen to deter a US-Israeli missile and aircraft attack on Iran has been missed in the western press and by Russian military reporters.

Top: https://russianfleetanalysis.blogspot.com/ Bottom: the Chinese Defense Ministry announcement of the arrival of the destroyer Zibo and frigate Jingzhou at Kuwait on October 19.

Armageddon strategy 17. US Afghanistan War veteran: “Suppose Israel and the US understand they are facing an existential survival future in which they must combat swarm attacks on three or four fronts — Gaza/Hamas, North/Hezbollah, Golan/Syria/Iran, and West Bank/Jordan, and they calculate the Arabs have at least a 30 to 60–day arms supply in stock, do they calculate they can withstand a multi-front offensive for enough time, resupplied by air from the US? If they calculate that they can withstand a 30-day multi-directional swarm, they must understand that, at a minimum, Israel’s infrastructure and economy will be ruined. In a scenario like that, even if they ‘win’, they lose. In terms of airlifting and shipping supplies, we’ve already seen that the Arabs can hit Israeli military and civilian airfields, airports and seaports. Defending Israeli infrastructure with their air defence capability is the main mission of the strike groups the US is deploying in the eastern Mediterranean and in the Red Sea.

According to the Pentagon on October 19, the USS Carney, a part of the USS Gerald Ford group, had transited into the Red Sea through the Suez Canal the day before and was in the northern Red Sea when it intercepted three land attack cruise missiles and several drones.

Western societies like Israel cannot function without solid, reliable, electrical power and communications services. We can be certain that power generation, transmission and distribution will be targeted by the Arabs non-stop. The cell towers and central communications centres will be too.”

18. Moscow source. “When does the threat to Israel become so dire, they go nuclear, and when they do, against what targets will they fire – Hamas, Beirut, Damascus, Teheran?* The US won’t accept a Palestinian state so the only option left for the Palestinians, Arabs, Iranians, possibly Turks is to fight with this new kind of warfare whose objective is to cut into the flesh and bones of the Israeli adversary, and make life in that state unviable. Without a Palestinian homeland, all of Israel and the Arab territories become a battlefield. The IDF options then shrink to two – carpet bombing and mass killing of the civilian population centres on all fronts at once. If that isn’t sustainable or effective for the Israeli-American purpose, then option 2 is to attack Lebanon, Syria and Iran to stop the flow of reinforcements. But that’s regional war, and it can only be conducted by the Israelis with full US military participation. This becomes nuclear very quickly because President Putin has already placed the Kinzhal missiles in range of the US carrier fleet in the eastern Mediterranean, and the Chinese have installed their screen to protect Iran. It’s obvious that the race hatred policies of Biden and Netanyahu, and their belief that God has chosen them both as destroyers for their people, lead to the final, nuclear weapons solution. The Russians and Chinese can maximise their limited military projection by deterring, or if need be pre-empting a nuclear attack on the Arab cities or Teheran. For this to work, the Russians and the Chinese need to say more – loudly so there’s no mistaking what they mean.”

[*] In 1983, in conversation with his General Staff, Iraq’s President Saddam Hussein said: “the Iraqis would be able to withstand three years of fighting in a war. However, the Israelis cannot withstand one year of fighting in a war.” In April 1990 Hussein was hosting Yasser Arafat of the PLO in Baghdad. “[Israel] has 240 nuclear warheads, 12 out of them for each Arab capital,” Arafat said. Saddam replied: “I say this and I am very calm and wearing a civilian suit [everyone laughs]. But I say this so that we can get ready at this level.” Quoted in The Jackals’ Wedding, page 16.

#israel palestine conflict #us imperialism #israel #palestine #china #russia #nuclear war #world war 3

42 notes · View notes