#capitalists can't be pushed left

[fandsart]

Steve whose parents are scrooge level extreme capitalists who don't believe that children should be allowed to "freeload" off their parents.

Steve whose dad pushes him into sports to eventually make something of himself and earn what little he is provided with.

Steve whose mom makes Steve maintain the house while they're away instead of hiring a housekeeper.

Steve whose parents are scrooge level extreme capitalists who pinch pennies even when they have so much money already.

Steve whose dad who doesn't pay for heating and cooling if he's away for long enough.

Steve who sometimes won't have access to warm water for months at a time.

Steve whose mom gives limited allowances for food, but is the level of rich that she's never really checked for prices herself and so underestimates how much things cost.

Steve who himself must pinch his pennies.

Steve whose parents are obsessed with appearances.

Steve whose mom who is sends clothes every now and then. The most stiff and respectable items on the market.

Steve who can't afford to waste money on clothes he actually wants because of his limited budget.

Steve whose dad sends a house inspector at least once a month if he's away for longer than a full one to make sure Steve has in fact been keeping up on it.

Steve who sometimes has to waste some of his precious money on cleaning supplies for the house.

Steve back in high school sitting there like ;-; while Eddie goes on a tabletop rant about how rich boy Steve could never understand what it's like to race in the shower with the water boiler to finish before the heat runs out, or what it's like to regularly skip meals to save money for clothes that are both actually comfortable and stylistically preferable.

Steve who took a cold shower that morning, and is now wearing the itchiest and ugliest thing left in his wardrobe because he needs to buy detergent which is why he skipped lunch that day ;-;

Steve whose always been teased for his big-ass house and his pool and these luxuries that surround him that he honestly has very few positive experiences with. Steve not realizing until that very moment that he, himself, is not actually all that financially stable at all.

Steve having an existential crisis in the middle of the day in the Hawkins High cafeteria

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington angst #steddie prompt #<- I guess #steve harrington's parents #fandsart

[crazycatgirl420]

Gotham's Black Rose

Dpxdc fanfic Sam is Bruce Wayne's daughter, adopted by the Manson family. Everlasting Trio, toddler Ellie. Pharoah Tucker, Witch Sam, Space Ancient Danny, and Cujo too.

"How do you feel now?" Mrs. Foley asked, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

Chapter 3: Revelation

Sam removed the tinfoil from her hair. Purple, with a smattering of black, but her hair was mainly a bright vivid purple now. Her purple contacts were back, and last night she even got her nose pierced.

"Better," Sam said. "I feel more like me now,"

"That's good," Mrs. Foley said. "Remember to clean up, dinner will be done soon and Tucker finished whatever he was doing for you,"

Hacking into the Justice League's database of DNA records, to cross-reference her DNA too. It's the largest DNA database in the world. If her biological parents were Heroes or Villians or otherwise employed by such a person then explaining the chaos that was her life would be easier. If not, then she wasn't sure if she wanted to meet them. Her life was messy and complicated and dangerous, bringing someone unprepared into her life would be an unnecessary risk.

"Thanks Mrs. Foley," Sam said. "I'll be down soon,"

-

The test finished running while they were eating. Sam and Tucker left the table, nervous and excited in equal measure.

"I can't look," Sam said, closing her eyes at the door to Tucker's office.

Tucker took her hand and pulled her in.

"No fucking way," Tucker said, pushing Sam into a rolling stool and spinning her around to face a monitor. "You're gonna wanna see this," Sam leaned back into Tucker's chest, covering her eyes with her hands.

Tucker clicked away on the keyboard, his arms loose around her shoulders.

"It's someone horrible isn't it? Like an intergalactic Tyrant or someone who hates kids or maybe someone who hates nature or magic-"

"It's Bruce Wayne,"

-

When an outsider ran a DNA test using the Justice League's database, Hero identities were locked away on a separate server and only those with Civilian identities connected to the Justice League could be found.

It was one of B's many contingencies against enemy hackers. Tim was waiting in the monitor room for Kon to finish his appointment with Canary, when a screen flashed. Tim watched as the Civilian files were shuffled through by the outsider, as the DNA sequence searched for a match. He watched as it stopped on the file of Bruce Wayne and confirmed a parental match.

Finding out who B's new mystery child is was easy. He synced to the hacker's computer, turned on the camera, and there they were. This hacker had an impressive setup, he even had audio.

"I'm a Wayne?" The purple hair girl asked, staring at the screen. "I think I'm gonna be sick,"

"Oh yeah, that's gotta be some cosmic irony or something," the hacker, leaning over the young woman's shoulder said. "An anti-capitalist and her multi-billioniare capitalist father,"

She elbowed him in the gut.

"Any idea who my mother is?"

"Nope, seems only Wayne was on this database. Your mother is probably one of the many supermodels Wayne took to bed so frequently,"

"My whole identity is a lie," the woman said. "If I decide to meet him I probably wouldn't even be an outcast anymore..."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "What if I am only an activist because the ones who raised me aren't? What if I only befriended you and Danny because they didn't approve of you? What if I'm actually an entirely different person than I thought I was and I become some shallow backstabbing arrogant snob as soon as Bruce Wayne says he's proud of me for something?"

"If you don't want to meet him, you don't have too,"

"We're moving to Gotham. He's gonna be everywhere,"

"He doesn't have to know Sam," the man said. "If you're not ready we won't tell him,"

Tim pulled up the records of the woman, the unknown Wayne child, and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Samantha Manson, Seventeen years old, born October 13th at Gotham Private Hospital and adopted a week later from the same hospital by the Manson couple, raised in Amity Park Illinois, an average B student and an activist for nearly any cause she found. From school food to animal rights to nature preservation and restoration to illegal pride parades. She bought an apartment in Gotham near Gotham University, for her and her boyfriends Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton, and Danny's daughter Eliza.

Bruce had a completely civilian daughter. The batchat was going to freak out.

#dpxdc

[mueritos]

Hey Matteo, is there anyway I can be an anarchist from home? I dont have the means to do things like leave the house for too long so no protests. I know theres donating to certain places but I dont feel like Im doing enough

hi friend! first of all, being an anarchist doesn't necessarily mean youre gonna be out on the front lines throwing molotov cocktails or creating communes. being an anarchist, to me, is living life in the most anarchist way of de-centering hierarchy in your interpersonal and intrapersonal life/relationships, of honoring people's autonomy (and even their autonomy to make bad decisions or decisions we don't like), holding ourselves and our communities in transformative accountability, and to just live life as authentically as you can.

there is of course the political action aspect, but you must understand that everyone is at different points of their lives. when you're in community with people, you pick up the pieces people have left behind, you pick people up when they fall behind, and you shield them from harm and retaliation by fulfilling their needs. You can read as much theory as you want--from adrienne maree brown to karl marx--but you need lived experience and community to see how these theories play out and are informed by life. you can't be an anarchist without a community of folks who are willing to love you, protect you, and keep you accountable.

at the same time, i'm not here to shame anyone. i have certain thoughts about everything and how "allies" have been pushing marginalized communities to speak up. frankly, what I will say is I will never shame anyone for how they survive in this fucked up capitalistic white supremacist world. you are suffering daily oppression from all sides, I can't blame you for not doing much to inform yourself about daily atrocities because you can barely make your rent. but if you have the capacity and are willing to want to do more, just know that you are holding endless knowledge and historical memory of these moments that the world wants us to erase from history. do not forget. donate, share information, talk with your friends, and hold your marginalized communities closer than ever, but the best thing you can do is never forget.

at the same time, this goes for everyone really, but im not intent on pushing the most marginalized voices (BIPOC but especially Black voices) to speak on every atrocity ever when they're already struggling through their own. i've seen far too many BIPOC communities and advocates online be pushed into speaking when they're not ready or when theyre genuinely protecting their BIPOC folks from MORE zionist/white supremacist hate by making sure they respect their decisions to not speak pubicly. again, I don't intend to shame anyone for doing what they can to survive, ESPECIALLY BIPOC communities. It's atrocious that even now racism is still being used to villify BIPOC voices that are speaking in drafts, still processing their grief and emotions, and for pushing BIPOC voices who aren't even okay with speaking publicly due to fear of retailiation (because thats fucking happening!) at the same time, i do think white folk need to pick up the slack as usual and just get off of BIPOC folks' backs.

i hope this helped. long story short, don't shame people for surviving under oppression, do what you can with the capacity that you have, and hold your people close. I hope that helped and im happy to expand on more.

and as always, the anarchist library is the best resource around.

#muertoresponds #just posted a few thoughts on my insta story so this has good timing #and theres reasons why on tumblr i havent spoken much #working with a group of social workers rn and palestinian classmates about creating a group #but unfortunately even i am suffering under capitalism and white supremacy as are everyone else

[thesoftboiledegg]

Overall, Full Meta Jackrick was decent. I liked it. It's not a personal favorite, but I won't mind it when I eventually rewatch the series. I just had the same problem with this episode that I did with the previous installment, Never Ricking Morty: it's not bad, but it's just...there? Meta episodes don't go anywhere because they CAN'T go anywhere. They're just twenty minutes of "Check it out, we're characters in a TV show!"

Still, I think this episode did a decent job of leaning into the meta without ruining the show. I was a little worried that Morty would realize that he's in a TV show and the entire universe would fall apart as he and Rick deconstruct everything, and then we'd have to act like nothing happened in the next episode. Luckily, Full Meta Jackrick didn't push the show's boundaries too far.

But yeah, I thought this episode was a little...pointless? It avoided cliches for the most part, but it also didn't say anything new. It wasn't a groundbreaking deconstruction of Rick and Morty or TV shows as a whole. It was just another take on the "Rick knows that he's in a TV show" concept, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it left me going "What was the point of that?"

The episode looked like it might have an anti-capitalist message with the Rick plushies, but that didn't really go anywhere, either. However, that might be a good thing--a preachy statement would've weighed down the episode even if I agree with it.

Full Meta Jackrick had a little more substance than Never Ricking Morty because at least we watched "our" Rick and Morty go on an adventure. I enjoyed watching an episode with just the two of them again. Their dynamic is brilliant--EVERYTHING that Rick and Morty do together is entertaining.

The first half of season six was great, but the episodes felt a little "off" because Morty didn't have much to do in most of them. Now, he's finally stepping back into the protagonist role.

Bringing back Story Lord (and Jesus) and writing a follow-up to Never Ricking Morty in general is a little gutsy and unexpected, which I can respect. Did anyone think that we'd ever hear anything about that train again? Never Ricking Morty isn't particularly loved or reviled--it's just an experimental episode that we probably would've forgotten about if it didn't foreshadow the season five Birdrick reveal.

For me, Full Meta Jackrick is a slightly better version of Never Ricking Morty because it's canon and has a more cohesive storyline. Full Meta Jackrick, like all of season six, also has great callbacks to the first couple of seasons. They never feel pandering or like they're trying to trigger your nostalgia--instead, they poke fun at the series itself and show you that the writers really care about this universe.

I also thought that this might've been the funniest episode of the season. Gotta be honest, guys--I normally roll my eyes when people say "Rick and Morty isn't funny anymore blah blah," but season six is the first season where I'm like "Yeah, the jokes haven't been great." But this episode had a lot of funny lines.

We did get some great character moments with Rick and Morty. Rick's still Rick: he's lazy, crabby, selfish and rude. But he's gentler with Morty, too. He treats him like a person and partner (in crime) instead of hoarsely shouting at him. He looks out for him and gives him his lab coat when they're freezing--boy, THAT'S been a fandom staple for nearly a decade.

This might be a stretch, but the scene in the garage caught my attention, too. Rick gently turns on Morty's goggles for him--you know, like an actual grandfather--instead of telling him to do it and then yelling that he's too slow or whatever.

This is seriously the fanservice season. Rick in a suit and tie yet again, Rick draping his lab coat over a shivering Morty, Rick tearing off his clothes to reveal that he's jacked underneath (I guess he's still working on those abs? lol.) The new writers' influence is so blatant, and I don't think most of us are complaining.

And we saw Rick's favorite thing yet again: crystals. 💎✨ (Well, ore.) Someone needs to give him $100 and cut him loose in a New Age store for a couple of hours.

I also want to note how much I love Justin Roiland's voice acting. Rick's voice is so complex and reflects his character development brilliantly. I hate how people dismiss Justin Roiland as a shouty guy who burps and yells into the microphone. Honestly, I don't hear Justin Roiland at all when Rick speaks--I just hear Rick.

Overall, Full Meta Jackrick was a decent return to the show after the six-week break. Those "Rick is a nihilist" YouTube videos need to go away forever because this episode's theme could have been "Nothing matters, we're just cartoon characters, blah blah," but it wasn't. Instead, Rick tells Morty that his life matters, and he looks at the audience as he says it.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #full meta jackrick #morty smith #rick and morty s6 #rick and morty season 6 #story lord #story train #review

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Eugene: Harbourtown's Hollow Protector (A Meta Analysis)

The night is dim, awaft with the scent of sea-salt spray and crushed autumn leaves. A nearby cafe jingles with the sound of clinking cups, and it's heady aroma envelops the people with laughter and dance, untouched by the vastness of the sky and the sea. All but for one. His name is Eugene. He wears a neon pink jacket. He has a strange fondness for the word momentous. He's the sole "Protector of Harbourtown~!" But a hero complex-- and the insecurity beneath it-- doesn't spring from nowhere.

Not dissimilar to the melancholy ambience of New Wirral, the concept of emptiness and uselessness plagues Eugene throughout his adventures, and this comes to light in the archangel fight with Mammon.

Eugene reacts-- for an otherwise bombastic, enthusiastic guy-- quite poorly. He initially pushes back and gets defensive-- 'You don't know a SINGLE thing about me', but one can't keep up the charade of denial forever, and he begins to break down. Somewhere in his heart, he seems to read these words as true. Eugene comes from a post-capitalistic society, or at least the start of one. There, life was 'slowly' changing in emphasis from being 'rich and famous' to being generous to one's community. But even though Eugene states that it was a sudden shift in society's ways, such change never is so instantaneous. With billions of people on the earth, with a spectrum of political opinions, the hard-coding of capitalism is something that is difficult to undo. The ideal of getting a good job has been going on for decades, for instance. So to a bunch of children caught in the midst of it all, in the beginning of new change, indoctrinated into a capitalistic world that was bursting at the seams... it's daunting. Engulfing. And that's clearly what's happened in Eugene's case. He states that he was 'never very good at' the new way of life. This, combined with his reaction to Mammon which he holds to some truth-- 'I want order because you do. I crave structure because you do' shows that this new way of doing things has left Eugene feeling rather... useless. Especially since, truth be told, he doesn't see much in himself in the first place. Within the Gramophone Cafe, there's a bit of optional dialogue between him and Kayleigh. Kayleigh inquires that, with Eugene's desire to benefit Harbourtown, why doesn't he go join the rangers himself? To which he goes:

Besides the point that he is clearly putting up a front, when Kayleigh teases that he wouldn't be up to complete their challenge, we get this instead:

But! As Kayleigh tells the player after they acquire their ranger challenge, it's specific to the person applying. Kayleigh went around doing errands because that's in her nature. The player undertakes a combat challenge because that's in their forte, or at least the game assumes so. It's a bit suspicious, then, that Eugene reacts in this way. But after all, capitalism does take time away from personal development, it's no wonder that this boy doesn't understand what value he brings to the table innately, by breathing, by being alive and a good spirit, and trying and failing and trying some more. He needs to be told, multiple times, assuaged of it really, that 'You don't need to be a hero to have value'. That he doesn't need to go around heralding some grand cause to be something in the world. That niggling insecurity of his is further implied in the Aldgrave Tomb Station, with the gravestone text. The archangel for this one, Lamento Mori, as the pun also implies, is as much about death as it is the fear of being unable to live a meaningful and fulfilling life before it. The text changes for each of the party members to reflect their internal struggles, whether it is Kayleigh's people-pleasing, Felix's embarrassment over his past art, or in Eugene's case: 'All talk and no action'. And it is because of that Eugene is wrapped up in an unfulfilling hero complex. A hero is a strict role. They're defenders of justice. Chivalrous. Selfless. Brave. A far-cry from the open-endness, and thus emptiness, that Eugene sought to bury within him as he fought the landkeepers. It's a comfortable act to play, and that feeling of stopping the bad guys does well to console the ego and mind in the moment. And you know Eugene is really trying to play into it, because when he's caught in the heat of the moment, he reacts with embarrassment, as if he knows it's childish:

Which brings us to his series of relationship heart events. Because though insecurity is like a gaping hole in the heart, and Eugene has so far been trying to cover it up with the cling-film bravado of heroism, the cover can always be removed. It can be filled with something much more nourishing, like soil, which is precisely what happens. Eugene finds a new comfort in starting a community garden. And though it might initially read that he's still trapped in that cycle of constantly needing to help others, the truth is, he's beginning to liberate himself from the idea that he is useless. He takes pride in his little garden, and shows genuine confidence in it and it's potential, rather than snapping up under pressure like with Mammon, being tentative as if with the ranger challenge, or fawning over in embarrassment when the player first encounters him.

And the day is bright, and the scent of flowers and mulch lingers in the air. A nearby cafe jingles with the sound of clinking cups, and it's heady aroma envelops the people with laughter and dance, untouched by the vastness of the sky and the sea. And this time, everyone is there.

--

Thanks for reading my meta take on best boi!!! I highly recommend this other speculative opinion and it's addition by my friend @hungrydolphin91 and @millipedish, which I think is absolutely wonderful and very supplementary to mine :). I just didn't want to regurgitate the same stuff because. y'know. academic honesty and plagiarism ^^;

#cassette beasts #eugene cassette beasts #eugene #As a side preamble I really do like how his questline takes the longest #it's a neat example of gameplay-story integration. he's putting up the heroism front so of course you can't get close to him #until it's removed. and that false barrier just happens to be the landkeepers. idk man I know a lot of people find it annoying #but i just think it solidifies what he's got going for him :>

[zenphiaaa]

London Boy (Ranpo Edogawa)

The printer made one last wheezing sound before turning off once more. "Man, it only printed out seven of them." Y/N chewed on her lip in frustration. "Ranpo isn't going to like this. Maybe if I make a trip to the library on my lunch break." She thought as she gathered the papers up in one hand and pulled out her cellphone.

The time was currently eleven thrity in the afternoon. If she left right now, she could also get one of those fancy sandwiches from the Cafe by the station. Y/N quickly clocked out her lunch break and made her way out of the building. To her surprise Ranpo was outside, leaning against the building railing looking bored.

Quietly, she slowly stepped over to where Ranpo was and stood in front of him. Ranpo glanced up and immediately presented Y/N with a wide grin. "Y/N! There you are! I've been waiting out here forever!" The detective whined to the other. "Are you ready for lunch yet? You're paying for being late!" Ranpo stuck out his tongue and made a childish face.

"Um, well I still have to finish a few things. But I'll bring you back something from a bakery yeah?" Y/N hesitantly explained, watching as the male's eyes slowly dropped in disappointment. "We can definitely go to dinner though! Okay? See you later!" She quickly ran away from the other and made her way to the station. Not giving ranpo the opportunity to talk or stop her.

***

An hour later, Y/N had returned to the agency carrying a small box in her arms. After clocking back in, she took the box up to her desk to finish up her assignment. It took nearly her entire lunch break but she finally manged to finsh the print job for Ranpo. Before she could get to her desk though, a figure stoof in front of the agency doors.

Ranpo looked up from his spot arms crossed and a frown on his face. "Did you even eat?" Was all that followed from his lips.

"Ah." Y/N said looking dumbstruck.

Ranpo let out a long sigh before grabbing Y/N's free arm and dragging her away from the agency. "You can't do your job if you have no food for your brain, dummy. Let's go eat at that new Cafe! Since I had to wait an extra hour for my lunch I'm extra hungry. So your paying!" Ranpo happily explained, his grip tighten on the other.

"But the deadline!" Y/N tried to protest but still allowed herself to be pulled away by the older man.

"Eh, I don't really care about that." Ranpo shrugged, "Those government people can cry about it for all I care. Food is more important than trying to secure a capitalist state." Y/n couldn't help but blink at the male in respond before she was suddenly stoo in front of the cafe.

What. In. The. World.

Without a word, Ranpo quickly pushed Y/N into the building and skipped straight to the cashier. "Hi there! Can I get one of everything on your menu please? Thank you!" With that Ranpo had placed a black credit card on the counter and grabbed Y/N's hand before walking off to find a table.

"Um, Ranpo are you good?" Y/N questioned, feeling taken back by the sudden forcefulness coming from the older male. Instead of responding, Ranpo gently pushed Y/N into a nearby chair and took the seat next to her.

"Now we can finally start our lunch date!" Ranpo smiled cheerfully.

"D-date?" Y/N stuttered, face feeling awfully warm.

Ranpo pouted, "Jeez, I asked you yesterday! Remember? Did you hit your head or something at the library?" Y/N just blinked at the other in shock, this was a date?

"Um, yeah I guess I did forget. I'm sorry Ranpo, I didn't mean to forget like that." Y/N blushed red, looking down in embarrassment at her words.

"Ah! It's fine really! Just don't let it happen again!" Ranpo said, clinging onto the other with a wide smile on his face. If Y/N had gathered the courage to glance at the other, she would see that the red in his checks looked absolutely exceptional.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #ranpo x reader #ranpo x y/n #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo edogawa

[zerodaryls]

my girlfriend is trapped in a small town in idaho with no way to get out by herself

hey y'all, my girlfriend @desertthorn has given me permission to turn to tumblr for help on this one.

last year, my girlfriend's car broke down, leaving her stuck living in a small-town with no public transit, limited (expensive) grocery options, and even fewer job prospects. she's been working part-time in the only position she could find, and walking to and from work even in stormy weather.

the lack of options has left her living in a motel and struggling to afford groceries and other basic necessities each week. i can't even send her food on doordash when i have a little extra money, due to the rural area she's in (we're long-distance, but have met IRL).

we're both neurodivergent and struggling enough as it is in this capitalistic hellscape (as are like 99% of the population of tumblr, i know), and we want to relocate her to my state so we can be closer to each other (and, y'know, so she can finally afford to eat every day).

with her current (unavoidable) cost of living combined with low income, she's struggling to provide for her day-to-day needs – let alone save any money to get her car fixed. if i push my budget around, i can set aside enough to help her... in about 2 years.

unfortunately, this is going to require crowdfunding.

the estimate to fix her car was $2500, and we're about 10% of the way there (at time of posting this). if we exceed the goal, any additional funds will be put toward the costs of her eventual relocation.

please donate $1, $5, $10 or $20 if you can – anything helps!

if just 250 people donate $10 each, we'll exceed our goal!

if you can't donate, please consider spreading this around your various online haunts.

this queer couple (who met on tumblr!) thanks you. <3

$250 / $2500

#mutual aid #fundraising #help needed #i don't know how to tag this #hopefully someone with a larger following than i have can get this out more #>.< #truly we thank you all for any support <3 #i'll try to keep the number updated

[transmutationisms]

also I am not trying to convince the other side to mask, I am trying to convince other leftists to do any kind of pandemic advocacy, but I've largely been met with resistance and pandemic denialism, and I may be wrong but I can't help but attribute it to guilt surrounding a refusal to even consider any kind of accommodations for disabled people in their spaces, covid or otherwise. this usually comes in the form of masking, ventilation, and/or remote options. I understand it's not feasible to Always have accommodations but it feels like people could at least consider it, and that frustration often does come out in the form of "why can't you just do the bare minimum that costs nothing and mask for a half hour". that's not perfect optics, I admit, but it is exhausting to have to be looking for the correct combination of words to tell someone who claims to be an ally to get them to not immediately shut me out. perhaps your point is that all of that is wasted effort, anyway, and maybe that does count as "the other side" in this case

hey, i really do sympathise with your frustration here. like i said: i <3 masks. i <3 other pandemic interventions. and i agree that a lot of resistance to these things comes down to ableism, whether overt (actively exterminatory mindsets toward disabled people) or more 'subtle' (just not giving a fuck). my point was just that i have observed a tendency, including among those nominally on the left, to shift any conversation about pandemic safety to technical interventions that they believe obviate the need for political action, and that among a certain subset of those who do take covid seriously, masks can sometimes serve this rhetorical function. if that's not you then great. again i repeat that the point here is not to reduce mask usage but the opposite. in fact i would say pushing for accommodations to be offered as a matter of course and not a 'special exception' is exactly the sort of political action that the technical-intervention crowd doesn't want to think about or deal with, because that points to a way in which masks (although great) do not 100% solve a social and political issue (the fact that large groups of people gathering together in person is inherently inaccessible for some people and always will be). like, this is precisely the sort of larger political issue i'm pointing to—capitalist valuation of disabled people, social designs that are exclusionary, and the way that the covid pandemic ought to be prompting us to think, "hey, even if we masked up and got vaccinated and dealt with This specific illness, don't we also have ongoing issues with eg accessibility as a result of living in a society designed around capitalist notions of productivity rather than the social responsibility we all have toward one another?"

in a more narrow conversation about public health communication strategies i would maybe say that assuming a guilty conscience on the part of your interlocutors is understandable but probably not helping you much (i'm not accusing you of something here. i would also not communicate to the public in the exact manner i do on this tumblr blog lol) and, although this is not my complete or definitive account of pandemic denialism, i do think a certain amount of it is fuelled by the sort of techno-optimism i'm talking about: the belief that we just need to get the right medical-technology intervention, and then that obviates our need to change our behaviour in any meaningful way. among those who are resistant to masks, often the vaccine is the technology of choice here, but this attitude is (i think) somewhat malleable in terms of what actual technical intervention it invokes. again: not a comprehensive theory of pandemic denialism but i do think this is part of the puzzle and is happily encouraged by a lot of mainstream news coverage & general attitudes toward science and technology as quasi-magical Forces For Good that will simply Solve Society (at its most concentrated this is simply technocracy). my position is that we need to be watchful for this sort of attitude, and resist it, whilst also using and encouraging those technical interventions that are useful for public health (masks, vaccines, ventilation, &c) or other reasons.

[qqueenofhades]

I'm waiting for the day people realize many "socialist" endeavors would not, in fact, tank the economy or drive up the deficit. Take housing. Even if the government did something asinine like buy a 100k house for every homeless person--instead of, like, invest in affordable housing or something reasonable--that'd only be around $55 billion dollars spent! Just slash the US military budget from the 800 billion it currently is down to 750 billion and boom! Money! Take it down to 700 billion (1)

2) and you'd pay for free college as well. (For a source on the college claim, see: this forbes article whining about how it'd cost a ~horrifying~ 47 billion for Biden to enact free college for people making less than 125k forbes(.)com/sites/robertberger/2020/09/04/the-surprising-cost-of-bidens-free-college-tuition-plan/?sh=688bf7396f7f ) Tax the wealthy and we'd raise the money for healthcare. We HAVE the money to improve things. We simply choose not to.

Well... yeah. Of course there's money. Of course there is. It's just that the current economic/late-stage capitalist system has decided that it's better off being locked away by a tiny handful of unimaginably greedy billionaires in order to make them even richer, rather than being equitably redistributed to solve social problems. They have also very successfully convinced the public, for upward of 40 years, that it's actually better to let the billionaires keep those fortunes, all taxation and government is evil, it's immoral to want or expect financial help or justice from said government, if you can't work hard enough to make your own money than you have a personally deficient character, structural and systemic racism/discrimination isn't real and doesn't affect wealth distribution, and etc., etc., etc.

Late-stage capitalism depends on enforced scarcity: if you don't have enough, you'll keep working in whatever shitty job you can get. The Republicans have often cited the tired old Reaganite myth about how welfare recipients are just "lazy" and can't be bothered to Pull Themselves Out of Poverty, and besides, the corporate world doesn't want to be deprived of its control over the working population. So of course they resist any efforts to tax or regulate billionaires or corporations, and they engage in (again, sadly very successful) lobbying campaigns to tie this economic libertarianism to social conservatism/conservative populism/outright racial/white supremacist rhetoric. So plenty of working-class white people consistently vote against their own economic interests, because they like racism more than anything else. See the recent attempt to claim that the Ohio train derailment happened because poor, rural white people were "left out/overlooked by the evil Democratic government for being white!!!" Or the narrative, helpfully pushed by the NYT (as usual), that these towns are "forgotten," "left behind," or otherwise "ignored" by an uncaring federal (read: Democratic) government.

Except... the Democrats under Biden have enacted more legislation, tax credits, infrastructure projects, job opportunities, and so forth, in the last two years alone, intended to help the residents of places just like East Palestine, Ohio, than the Republicans have ever done in all their presidential administrations. It's the Republicans who have starved those places of proper funding, safety regulations, material resources, government oversight, and so on, while telling them that Democrats hate them because they're white. The voters of those places have often enthusiastically voted for that message, and then the national GOP apparatus blames.... the Democrats. Because of course they do, even though the Democrats, by any metric, are the party who actually materially tries to help the working class. Racism, Reaganism, and white grievance is a helluva drug.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

[jaynes-sedation]

The rapid improvement of AI technology happening right now in tandem with Israel's genocidal actions in Gaza can't be a coincidence, right? For months. Israel has been trying to use any form of propaganda they can to justify the murder of 30,000 Palestinian civilians. They have repeatedly tried to gaslight us by using the American government and media as their own propaganda tools. The zionists have them repeat the claimsthat they are bombing hospitals because Hamas bases are underneath them, or that they are trying to get the hostages back, or that the entire strip has been "taken over" by Hamas. But it hasn't been working. Every lie they have been using in their propaganda efforts has been disproven by the Palestinian people living through the genocide, broadcasting the slaughter of their people by the Israeli state that wants to steal the small bit of land they have left. And more ordinary people than ever have been rising up to protest their actions and call for Israel to pay for their crimes. Especially in places like the US, where Israel expects the citizens to eat up their propaganda through the vast machine supporting it.

But it's not enough anymore

And all of a sudden AI is everywhere. The technology has been around for a couple of years, but since the siege of Gaza began, there's been a massive push by American companies to perfect it. So many commercials lately have bragged about how companies like Amazon, Google, and Apple use it to perfect their products, and companies like Disney and Warner Bros seem determined to replace most of their productions with AI.

And now Microsoft is releasing Sora, advertising how it can make images so realistic that you'll no longer be able to talk what's real and what's fake. Who does that serve? Even for the few wealthier individuals able to pay for it and access it around the world, not many will do more than play around with it for a little while before getting bored with it.

But Israel can use it. And the United States government and media machine can use it. So now, if Israel wanted to "prove" battalions of Hamas soldiers were roaming the west bank in order to justify a full ethnic cleanse of the rest of Palestine, they could easily plug that prompt into Sora and give the resulting images to CNN, Fox, and MSNBC. And anyone who hasn't learned the history of the Palestinian people and Hamas would only see Israel defending themselves from "terrorists." And the truth would be that much harder to access for ordinary people on social media

Of course, AI wouldn't only be used for Israel's propaganda, but for any other propaganda people in power with to use. Fox News wants to "prove" a city is on fire after a large BLM protest? Just plug in "Downtown San Francisco on Fire and turned to rubble." Transphobes want to "prove" that trans women are raping cis women in public bathrooms? Just plug it into Sora. Apple wants to "prove" that they have safe, slave free, child free cobalt mines in The Congo that's frequently audited? They can make a video of it with whatever they put out to compete with Sora.

But the US has invested so much time and money into the colonial zionist ethnic cleansing of Palestine that they probably want the technology that allows them to "prove" as many of Israel's claims as they can. Because that is what will allow The US and capitalists around the world bent on white supremacy to keep the power they currently hold without the threat of the masses rising up against them. And that is why AI fucking terrifies me.

#AI #palestine #anti zionisim #rant #propaganda #israhell #gaza #genocide #sora #microsoft

[transrevolutions]

opinion of current candidates for president, genuine question, just curious which ones you dislike

Honest opinion: I dislike all of them. Since (Genocide Joe) Biden's going to be running again on the Democrat side, that knocks out any possibility of pushing the Dems left through a more transformative progressive candidate (which... the likelihood of that happening was already really low).

The Republicans are all terrible, many of them being full out fascists. The main difference between them and the Democrats are that both sides are hopelessly capitalist and imperialist, but the Democrats say nice things while they exploit people and the Republicans insult you while they exploit people. Actions speak louder than words. (See: nominally 'pro human rights' Democrats refuse to speak out against Israel for fear of backlash.)

Independents unfortunately just don't win presidencies because of how the USA's election system works, and that's a whole other gripe.

If Biden gets re-elected, things stay the same. The USA liberals quiet down and get complacent. If Trump (or another Republican) gets elected instead, the quiet part gets said out loud and the focus turns from oppressing people elsewhere to oppressing people within the USA. This gets the USA liberals' heads out of their asses, but at a potentially very high cost.

Bottom line: we can't pin our hopes on the president, or the government at all for that matter. No matter who gets elected, we need to protect each other and have solidarity with each other. Real change happens from the ground up.

#politics #pigeon.txt #asks #anon #basically my verdict is 'fuck em all' #leftism

[runthepockets]

I feel like talking about music. I'm gonna post 7 albums that describe me. Shit that shaped my worldview, reflects my aesthetics, and all that other stuff. Puttin it under read more so no one's dash gets clogged.

ZUU - DENZEL CURRY.

I'm a huge fan of southern Hip Hop. It's dense and eclectic and always so full of life and culture, everything from Andre 3000's thick Atlanta twang on Intl Players Anthem to DJ Paul's production on any given Three 6 Mafia project, it's just my shit. It all speaks to the state of living in the south and has made so much impact on the broader state of Hip Hop. especially in the modern day.

This album feels....so personal. Like coming back home and meeting up with an old friend and realizing you both still know that secret handshake you made up in middle school, or watching the emotional climax of a coming of age movie. I was as wild as I was loving in my youth, so tracks like Ricky and Speedboat and Shake 88 which reference everything from getting in fights in your high school Dickies and football hoodies to escaping hood life to spitting bars about neighborhood bad bitches. It just speaks to me and my experiences, It's always good to know there are other black dudes out there writing love letters and cautionary tales about the violent environments and close knit & loving cultures that surrounded them in their youths spent below the bible belt. I wish I'd had this album when I was 17.

2. VIVA LA COBRA - COBRA STARSHIP

I've been listening to Cobra Starship since I was about 15, and this album has never left my all time greats. It's so fucking fun, like an 18 year old stole his dad's credit card and drove up with his friends to hang in NYC with fake IDs. The bragging, slightly macho, slightly cynical, fun but not too stupid persona Gabe Saporta personifies on this album speaks to me so deeply and shaped me into the man I am today. He has the cynicism and self aware, sarcastic edge that only a former Punk making dance music could have.

3. THREE DAYS GRACE - THREE DAYS GRACE.

Around the age of 13 I was carrying a massive weight; some of it was dysphoria, some of it was internalized racism, some of it was just plain average shit that comes with the territory of being a child under capitalist patriarchy. I felt lost and misunderstood, until I found this album completely by accident. Tracks like Home and Drown spoke to my experiences with abuse and the intense bouts of willpower and self sufficiency that I knew I was capable of but didn't have the courage to act on. I'd put these songs on in my room and drift away, all the pressures my parents and friends and school had put on me just washing away. It was loud and raw and angry and fueled the newfound passion and teen rebellion that would make up the majority of my teens and shape my worldview in adulthood.

4. RUN THE JEWELS 2 - RUN THE JEWELS

The aggressive machismo on this album and the general fuckboy-isms of it all speak to me. Bars like "you want a whore in a white dress, I want a wife with a thong" and verses like "I got that dick in her mouth all day" are just standouts. Just laying everything out, speaking your mind, holding back no punches. The album also weaves in tracks about police brutality, class warfare, and the harsh reality of being pushed to do things you aren't proud of to make ends meet (Killer Mike has a bar about having to sell cocaine to a pregnant woman, and another about his wife being shot by police in front of his son.) I honestly can't see who wouldn't be changed after listening to this, or at least feel seen. It's a no skip banger from beginning to end, if you really wanna understand the essence of Jared, this is it.

5. SOUL GLO - DIASPORA PROBLEMS

Growing up a black kid who liked rock music was extremely taboo, back in the day. It earned you some level of alienation in both black and white dominated spaces. I'd always felt in between worlds; The gritty realism of Hip Hop spoke to me just as the maniacal, commanding essence of Rock and Metal did, and it seemed neither party wanted much to do with me.

Imagine my excitement in 2022 when I find out about Soul Glo, an all black Punk band from my town, who frequently scream their hearts out about everything from police brutality to fake friends to feeling ostracization and tokenization as a black Punk band, with absurd humor and such intense display of vulnerability unlike anything I'd seen before. Finally, I thought, a band that understands me. A band for guys like me.

6. MOBB DEEP - THE INFAMOUS

I got way too high on acid while solo tripping last year and spent a lot of that trip freaking the fuck out. Doom Metal was too much, looking in the mirror was too much, watching tv was too much, everything was just too fucking much.

Except for this record.

This record saved my life and got me into Rap music again. I've cried to it as many times as I've lifted and shaken my ass to it. Though I've never been involved in the street life-- especially not to the degree that Havoc and Prodigy lay claim to-- I grew up privy to it. My environment was incredibly violent. A lot of moralizing by mass media and white people of all backgrounds was lost on me; my father sold drugs to keep me fed and to put Christmas presents under the table, and he'd brought a couple of sex workers into the mix as well (all of whom were incredibly kind women), I felt if anything or anyone was failing, it was the justice system that put guys in these positions.

This album is fucking ruthless. The Jazz and Boom Bap elements add depth to it that I can't really say any other Jazz or Boom Bap rap album has done the same way since. It's also incredibly vulnerable at times. These guys have more nuance and versatility than any other rapper of their time, and it speaks to me as a black dude of working background and experience.

7. THE SLIM SHADY LP - EMINEM

Anyone who's followed me for more than a day knows how much I love Eminem. I think he's witty, charming, funny, and a really down to Earth dude, which probably sounds insane considering the amount of violence and bigotry he spews on the mic at any given time.

This album practically shaped my life and the way I internalize other people's opinions of me. As a kid, I grew up with a pretty abusive mom, and as such always felt the need to apologize or shrink in on myself just for existing. I hadn't really learned how to nurture the spirit until Eminem. The rage, the insanity, and the violence, was all a sheen for an album that truly told a story of how to power through life only trusting yourself and a few other insane, close friends, but most importantly to not let anything get you down and to simply not give a fuck (and to tell anyone who insists otherwise to get on their knees and suck it). The guy spoke real shit and had the credentials to prove it, he knew what he was about and made his dreams a reality, and that was awesome to me.

#my shit

[j-a-nuary]

Date Roulette: Jiyong

Tuesday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

Next

=====

Warning level: suggestive (higher end of suggestive)

=====

I woke up with my head smushed against Jiyong's shirt, and his arms wrapped tightly around my body. Which is to say: I woke up confused. I remembered everything, but I couldn't really make sense of it.

I was not the type to back down from a building argument. At least, I tried not to be. And kissing him again? I knew how I had gotten there, but in the light of day I just couldn't make the logic work out the same as it had last night.

But I could work that stuff out later. Right now, I had to peel a human banana clip off of myself and track down a production… assistant? Director? It occurred to me that I didn't actually know what Chul's job title actually was.

Again, not a priority at the moment.

I shook my head, trying to knock loose the cobwebs that had accumulated in there overnight. I immediately regretted the action as an invisible band tightened itself around my temples.

Muffling a groan, I rolled towards the edge of the bed, finding my escape from his clutches easier than I had expected.

Jiyong only let out a soft whine, but stayed asleep. I grabbed one of the pillows and pushed it towards his arms. He readily accepted it, pulling it into his body in a stranglehold.

=====

Once I was above deck, I located a staff person that I vaguely recognized. I had seen her around a few times, typically with an assortment of cords in her hands.

This morning however, she was leaning against a railing. In one hand she had some sort of snack bar, in the other she seemed to be scrolling through sns.

As I approached, she gave me an apologetic look - covering her somewhat full mouth and bowing. I waved a hand and shook my head, hoping I was coming off as nonchalant and not grimacing too much from the growing dizziness between my eyes.

"Sorry for interrupting," I started, "I just wanted to know if Chul is around."

"Mm," she paused, finishing chewing before continuing, "he's still downstairs. I guess he's got motion sickness pretty bad."

"Ah," I frowned, "I was hoping to talk to him before everything really got started today."

"Hmm…" she looked a little unsure.

"Please."

After a second, she nodded. "I'll show you," she offered.

I followed her back below deck.

=====

The room was smaller. Substantially so. Obviously meant as staff quarters.

It annoyed me, but I figured I'd gone on enough anti-capitalist tangents before. Besides, if Chul wasn't feeling well there was no reason for me to bring more negativity to him.

I also had something more urgent to address.

Chul looked like shit. He was rumpled. Hair stuck out at odd angles, wrinkled clothes, and that wince of illness. He was busy shaking some tablets onto his hand.

"Hey," I took a seat on an empty bunk, "anything I can do to help?"

He shook his head, wincing again.

"I've got dramamine and pain killers," he huffed, "I'll live. What's up?"

I sunk into myself slightly, feeling a little guilty that I was - once again - coming to him for a favor.

"I…" I paused as another staffer came in for a moment. They grabbed a bag and left without a word. Wordlessly, Chul handed me the bottle of pills. Taksen. I took two, nodding in thanks as he handed over a bottle of water as well.

I waited an extra second after swallowing the pills before starting again.

"I'm worried about this week."

Chul nodded, silently urging me to continue.

"I woke up and…" I blinked, brows dipping as I thought it over again, "I can't make sense of last night."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I didn't expect you two to get over things so quickly."

"Exactly!" I nodded - ignoring the headache, "it's like Ji… he just knows how to get past my guard somehow."

Chul hummed, a thoughtful look taking over his features.

"But… what does this have to do with me?" He asked.

"I… I don't know. I just wanted…" I frowned. What did I want? Someone to keep an eye on me? Someone to talk to?

"I just wanted to know if I was crazy or not for thinking it was strange."

He laughed. Not at me. More of a what can I say sort of laugh.

"The whole thing is strange. Has anything happened to you this last month that isn't strange?"

I rolled my eyes, huffing at him and crossing my arms.

"Okay," I conceded, "but this is extra strange. I couldn't stand his jealousy, but one conversation later I let him sleep in my bed?"

Chul lifted an eyebrow, teasing me.

"Shut up," I snapped, "nothing happened. Just sleep."

He shook his head, raising his hands as if showing his innocence.

"But it's still weird!" I pushed. "I remember the conversation. That one bit shouldn't have been enough."

He sighed, shrugging.

"This whole thing between you two has been a roller coaster. Maybe this is just another up."

I groaned, but didn't speak. He had something close to a point.

"You just have to survive a few days. Tomorrow is a group day, then Sunday as well."

"You know that this won't just end on Sunday," I grumbled.

"True," he leaned forward, patting my knee reassuringly, "but we can worry about that next week. For now, let's just focus on today."

"Fine," I agreed, "but just…"

I stumbled over my words again.

Luckily, Chul knew what I was getting at.

"Hey, I can always make up some technical interruption if you need me to. Not forever, but for five minutes at least."

I nodded. Standing up, I placed a hopefully not overly familiar hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Chul," I squeezed his shoulder slightly, "seriously."

He nodded.

=====

I had hoped that Jiyong would be gone by the time I returned to my cabin. Or at least still dead asleep. Instead he sat up when I entered, pouting over my pillow at me.

I froze, just for a second. Thankfully, he seemed sleepy enough to have missed it.

"You left me alone," he croak-whined.

"I figured you could use the sleep," I shrugged. I sat on the edge of the bed and hauled my backpack from where I had stashed it on the little armchair yesterday.

His pout stayed in place as he shoved the pillow behind himself and lifted his arms towards me.

"Come back to me, my love."

I cringed at the endearment. It sounded hollow somehow.

"Luna?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyebrows were drawn together, and he appeared to be giving me a thorough looking over.

"Hmm?"

He didn't immediately answer. Instead, he sat up and leaned forward. Supporting himself on his knees and one hand, he reached forward and pushed the hair out of my face.

"Are you not feeling well? I'm sure I have medicine or something with me."

I shook my head, pulling away from his hand.

"No," I turned my attention back to my bag, "I already got something from Chul."

Jiyong crawled forward, invading the space next to me.

'What did he give you?"

I shrugged, still searching through my bag. "Just something for my headache. You know how it i- Ah there it is!"

I held my toothbrush aloft in triumph.

Jiyong smiled, presumably at my antics, but continued his questioning.

"But what specifically?"

"Why does it matter?" I retorted, moving towards the ensuite so I could finally brush my teeth. I laughed at Jiyong's expression, now looking extra concerned. "I doubt he'd try to drug me or something."

"Of course," he nodded slowly, "he'd have to be a psycho to do something like that."

He moved awkwardly, getting himself untangled from the bed so he could follow me.

"Still," he took up residence behind me now, sneaking a hand around my stomach as I brushed my teeth, "it might react poorly with that tea."

I rolled my eyes at him through the mirror. I felt crowded, but resisted the urge to push him away. Maybe it was the… was this a hangover? PMS? Regardless, there was an uncomfortable feeling lingering through my body that I couldn't help interpreting as danger.

Jiyong took my lack of rejection as encouragement. He hooked his chin on my shoulder and lifted his free hand to brush my hair back from my face.

"I want to make sure that you're safe, my love."

That was going to get real old, real fast.

I shrugged myself from his clutches, spitting and rinsing my mouth before speaking.

"It was just Taksen," I turned to face, fixing what I felt was the fakest smile I had ever worn onto my face, "I'm sure I'll be fine Ji."

=====

We had lunch on the boat, a vegetarian take on naengmyeon.

"You know," I broke a not quite awkward silence as we ate, "I used to hate soup."

Jiyong looked up from his dish, frowning slightly.

"I'm sure they could make something else."

"No," I shook my head, "this is fine. I just was against soup on principle."

Jiyong blinked, squinted, and finally placed his elbow onto the tabletop and his chin into his palm.

"On principle."

It wasn't exactly a question, but it was clear he wanted further information.

"Well," I lifted my spoon, observing its contents closely. After a moment, I downed the liquid before continuing. "Soup is different back home." I held the spoon up, now watching the way the sunlight reflected off its surface.

Jiyong patiently watched my antics.

"Mostly it just seemed like someone made a meal and then," I shrugged, "decided to put it in water."

Jiyong looked down at his own bowl, brows drawing together as he considered the food before him.

"How is that different than this?"

I shrugged again. "Soup here seems to be done on purpose."

His frown deepened for a moment. Then, after shaking his head, he burst out laughing.

"What?" I asked, unable to remain serious in the face of his outburst, "what's so funny?"

"I just," he shook his head again before leaning forward and resting his chin in his palm, "never know what you're going to say next."

A month ago - hell even a week ago - I would have expected that sentiment to be accompanied by a frown. Disapproval of what and how I choose to be. Now however…

He seemed to have forgotten his food, simply gazing at me with something like wonder writ across his face.

"Eat," I nodded towards his bowl.

His smile deepened. Shaking his head, his lips parted to speak.

"I-"

"Don't tell me you're full by watching me," I cut him off. "You need to eat."

He let out an abrupt laugh, but lifted his spoon regardless.

=====

I wasn't sure if it was exactly typical for yachts to pull up on Sindo. From what I could see, the boat that we were on was the only non-ferry visible. There was some discussion between pier staff, show staff, and even Jiyong himself at one point, before we were able to fully… park? I made a mental note to look up proper boating terminology.

Something about the way that Jiyong returned from the conversation sent a flag up in my mind. He looked sheepish, but happy - victorious, but a little shy. He had a bounce in his step that translated to his silly straw sun hat flopping slightly as he approached.

He looked like a dad on vacation that had just gotten a bargain.

"Is everything okay?" I asked as soon as he was close enough to talk to.

"Yes," he quickly answered. "I just have to, ah…" that slightly embarrassed look replaced his smile for a second.

"You didn't bribe them, did you?"

He laughed, but didn't answer. Not directly anyway.

"The manager's wife is a fan," he explained. "I just offered to sign a picture."

I squinted at him, trying to play up my disapproval.

"Jagi~," he stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "I got us a spot, right?"

I pursed my lips, letting out a "hmmph" noise.

"I did well," he wiggled my shoulders back and forth, teasing, "right jagiya?"

"I guess it's okay," I gave him a sidelong look, "as long as we're not breaking a law or anything."

A slightly confused look took over his features for a moment as he tilted his head.

"I don't think so," he murmured, "even if there is one, it will only be a fine."

I sighed deeply, remembering a phrase that my friends back home and I used to say pretty often: 'Punishable by a fine' just means 'legal for rich people.'

=====

We navigated renting some scooters, including two bigger ones that were more like golf carts for the staff and their gear, and headed out. It was already near noon when we had arrived, so we stopped in a small cafe for something to eat before heading towards Modo.

It was something like a break, but not really. Jiyong had suggested we share a scooter, but I had wanted a little bit of extra freedom.

"Think of the show," Jiyong pouted.

"I am," I countered. "Just imagine how fun it will be for the audience when I inevitably run off on my own and you have to chase me down."

I heard Chul snort out a laugh somewhere off camera at that.

"My love," Jiyong's pout deepened, "think of the way their hearts will flutter when you put your hands around my waist."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes for good measure.

"That's actually dangerous. If anything I'd have to grab your hips or shoulders," I shrugged. "Holding your waist messes with your center of balance."

The pout was gone. In its place was a blank stare, seasoned by a few blinks.

In the end, I allowed him to "convince" me. Truth be told, I was beginning to have a headache again, and I figured I might be better off if I let him "drive". I also begged another painkiller off Chul, who made a point of holding the back of his hand to my forehead and squinting at my eyes and hands.

"Do I pass the inspection?"

Chul's eyes narrowed, "for now. Here."

With that, I was handed a tablet, a bottle of water, and a helmet before settling in behind Jiyong on the little moped.

=====

The air on my face felt nice, doing a little bit to clear the ache in the center of my forehead. It also helped that most of what I could smell was salt, mud, and algae. I breathed deep, shutting my eyes to block any potential motion sickness from compounding the horrendously loud pounding of blood in my ears.

I was a little disappointed at missing most of the view while we rode. I had searched the island online when the plan was initially proposed and knew that I was surrounded by greenery and farms. I hoped I'd be able to see them on the way back.

At first, I was a little bitter about going to Modo with Jiyong. It was on my list, buried in my liked photos on my private Instagram. Somehow, I doubted Jiyong knew that though. Much more likely was the chance that he simply looked up day trips on the islands and things to do.

Not that that was a bad approach. I had simply been spoiled by Seunghyun and Daesung's attentiveness.

I allowed myself a moment of malcontent before convincing myself not to let petty details ruin Baemikkumi for me.

Getting an afternoon snack also helped. I excused myself to the bathroom after ordering, taking an extra moment to pat some cool water over my face and neck. The day was hot, extra humid due to being on the series of islets.

It also gave me a moment to respond to messages that I had been ignoring.

From: Hugeboy Any clarity on that mysterious situation you were in? σ(^_^;)? From: Hugeboy Ah… I know you're probably just busy but still it feels a bit… From: Hugeboy I want to call you From: Hugeboy But I don't want to be a bother From: Hugeboy I miss you ｡･(つд`｡)･｡ From: Hugeboy Maybe I should be embarrassed about saying that From: Hugeboy No! I don't care if it's embarrassing! From: Hugeboy I! Miss! You! ♡♡♡♡♡ (*T^T)

I couldn't help but to half smile, half pout, at his messages. Reading back over them I couldn't help but feel a little bad about not having responded. Still, I supposed I had a pretty good reason. At least on Sunday.

To: Hugeboy Would you believe me if I said I miss you too? To: Hugeboy I had a sort of… medical issue?? To: Hugeboy Nothing serious. Just stress. To: Hugeboy Honestly, I think I'm still recovering.

For perhaps the second time ever, he didn't instantly respond. Well, that's only fair. I checked my other messages.

From: Zico You know what I'm going to say, right? ㅋㅋㅋ From: Zico I think he's really lost it this time From: Zico Seriously… are you a witch or something? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

That last message had been accompanied by a blurry video of what appeared to be Mino. He sat with his phone in his hands, staring at it with an obvious pout on his lips. I couldn't truly make out what he was saying, but I could tell it was something like:

"... doesn't… nothing…"

A few seconds before the video ended, a new message came in from Zico.

From: Zico

I would ask why Mino just texted me asking for advice on playing it cool, but I think I already know the answer.

I snorted a laugh and quickly typed a reply.

To: Zico Why should he start now?

To: Hugeboy I like that you're embarrassing~~ ♡ To: Hugeboy Better to be embarrassing and real than to be cold and uncaring From: Hugeboy Fine! I miss you more than makes sense (*T^T) From: Hugeboy When can I see you? To: Hugeboy I don't know. I'm sorry. From: Hugeboy It's not your fault ＼(_ _) To: Hugeboy Still… To: Hugeboy I have to go. I'll message you again soon I promise.

With that, I clicked my phone back to locked, and headed back outside.

=====

Jiyong insisted we rehydrate, a set of iced teas mixed with fruit juice already on the table when I returned.

"Making sure to take care of me?" I teased him.

"I always take care of you."

At Jiyong's suggestion, plenty of photographs were taken. Primarily of me. I did offer a few times to take pictures of him, but he'd simply shake his head and say he had enough photos of him to last a lifetime.

That seemed both reasonable and a little unfair. Not to him. He was right. Nobody needed more photos of him. But it was unfair to put me in the spotlight with so little warning.

Once we were in the park, it was every few minutes with him. He'd point at something and ask me to pose next to it. As if I knew the first thing about posing.

I tried to push the negativity out of my mind. For years I had been the photographer for my friends. Ninety percent of the photos that existed of me were mirror selfies, or taken using a makeshift tripod and the timer function. I took a moment to be grateful for the influx of proof of life provided over the last few weeks.

Besides, the picture of me being held in giant metal hands did come out nicely.

=====

Just a short while later, Jiyong was sulking.

Well, not actually. He was playing it up for sympathy, scowling as the yacht pulled closer to the dock on the mainland. I pretended that I hadn't noticed.

"It's a shame," I said as casually as I could.

I was rewarded with shining puppy eyes from Jiyong.

"We didn't even get a chance to go into the ocean water this whole time."

Jiyong grimaced. Obviously, this was not what he had been hoping to hear. No doubt he would have liked for me to say I wished we could spend another night on the boat. Or perhaps that I didn't want to return to the house.

Truth be told, I was itching to get into the giant tub in my room. I couldn't wait to stretch out in a familiar bed again.

But the summer sun was still well above the horizon, so I was willing to bet that the approaching dock was not the end of the day.

=====

We ended our day at a bar masquerading as a barbecue restaurant. Nothing fancy, thank god. Just a little meat, a few vegetables, and a small gas fire to cook them over.

And soju.

Of course soju.

I contemplated the mushroom tipped shaft before me, pretending to ignore the shot that Jiyong had placed beside my plate.

"Come on," he whined slightly, meat tongs now back in hand. "Don't make me drink alone."

I sighed, biting the earthy brown cap off the skewer in my hand before turning to down the drink.

"That's my girl."

I made a point of rolling my eyes at his words. He just laughed and tossed back his own drink.

He's in a good mood. We had been in that weird confrontation for so long that I had forgotten about this version of him. Relaxed, happy, not mistaking jokes for attacks - this was the version of him I had fallen for in those early days.

"Hey."

I blinked, shaking my head slightly as I came back into the moment. The cup next to my plate was full again. I reached out to take it, but two fingers fell across the top to stop me. Looking up, I saw Jiyong watching me with that soft look he had been wearing for the last two days.

"Where'd you go?"

The seat I was in didn't really have a back to it, otherwise I would have leaned back. As it was, I supported myself with an elbow on the edge of the table.

"I was just thinking. About the beginning."

A moment of silence passed between us then. For me, it was reflective. For him… well…

He shook himself out of it and set the food aside so it didn't burn. After making sure everything was safely set, he sat down facing me. He shuffled to the edge of his seat and reached forward to grab the legs of mine to pull me closer.

"What?" It felt like a reasonable enough question.

"It can be like that again, jagiya."

He picked up my hand from the table, winding it into his own. His thumb brushed over my fingers for a moment before he pulled my palm to his cheek. Quickly, he pressed a kiss against my hand before securely holding it against his skin.

"I can make it like that again," he stared, an intensity that made my skin flush but also crawl.

"Ji," I tried to pull my hand away.

"No," he renewed his grip, pressing another kiss against my fingers before continuing, "I'll do whatever I need to do to make you realize that it should be me."

I experience an odd mix of reactions to that. My neck tensed, hairs prickling up off my skin as if his words had sent a cold breeze across my back. I felt goosebumps raise over my arms.

On the other hand, my stomach swooped and fluttered. A warmth spread down from my gut, part of my body clearly reacting well to the earnestness of his words.

"Just let me prove it to you this week."

=====

I silently wished that we had taken one of the company cars to the pier yesterday. Not necessarily one of the giant vans, but just something with another driver. A chaperone.

As we hadn't, I was stuck in Jiyong's car with him. Not that I thought he'd do anything too scandalous. There were still cameras in his car after all.

No, it was a more internal issue than that. With an external cause. That I was internally incapable of solving.

Jiyong's hand was on my thigh.

Which was fine. It was fine. It was a respectful enough distance between my knee and my hip. It was simply resting there, largely inactive save for a few swipes of his thumb over my skin. It was fine. I could deal with this.

Except for that gut churning warmth from before that was still sitting behind my waistband. Except for the tell-tale sensation of my body preparing itself for something that it was not going to get.

But it was nice. In a way.

I glanced at Jiyong, which may have been a mistake. I don't like to think of myself as being shallow but good lord the budding tension would be easier to prune back if he wasn't so fucking pretty.

=====

Finally we were back home, as much as that word meant anything anymore.

I was glad to be back in the house. I tried to remember where I was in my cycle. Had I last had my period during Seungri's week? Maybe it had been Daesung's? It wasn't totally out of the question that my hormones were simply amped up.

It usually wasn't this noticeable though. I was overtly aware of the wetness between my legs. Every step I took was accompanied by a naggingly persistent glide of self-lubricated flesh.

In a number of different situations, it would be titillating. In this one it was almost concerning.

"I'm going to head to bed," I was perhaps a bit curt with my words, but I was aching to get into the bathroom and clean myself up.

"Are you feeling okay?" Genuine concern filtered through Jiyong's words.

Maybe I wasn't doing as good of a job covering as I had thought.

"I'm fine," I cleared my throat. Doing my best not to meet his eye, I came up with a weak excuse. "I'm just tired from traveling and everything."

In the periphery of my vision, I was aware that he was nodding. I pretended to focus on putting my shoes away neatly.

"Jagi," his hand found my wrist, "I…"

I forced myself to meet his eye. He really was so fucking pretty.

I wasn't aware that my mouth had opened until I felt his thumb brush over my bottom lip. When had his hand reached my face?

Against my better judgment, my tongue dipped out - primarily to wet my lips, but incidentally lapping at his skin.

He even tasted pretty.

This close, I could see the blemishes underneath his makeup.

"Oh you guys are back."

Jiyong pulled away from me, scalded by embarrassment or annoyance.

Taeyang stood in the openway, in all the glory of what I was sure was one half of a matching couple's pajama set, holding a glass of water. His eyes shifted between the two of us. There may as well have been chemical formulas flying around his head with how hard he was staring at us.

Good lord I was glad to see him. His presence had been exactly the shock I needed to escape whatever was going on with me. Hormones, alcohol… whatever it was, I was glad for the distraction.

"I'll go first," I mumbled, carefully avoiding touching either of them as I moved.

=====

My body bounced with the force I had thrown myself at the mattress. The inspection I had given myself in the shower had confirmed what I already knew. I debated texting Daesung, weighing the chances of us somehow getting caught. Typically I'd have no problem staying quiet, but with how amped up I was… there was really no telling.

Though I had teased him about tying him to the bed. What better time to try it than ri-

My thoughts were cut off by a tapping at the glass doors. Scrambling for decency's sake, I retracted my hand that had been making its way between my legs of its own accord. I tightened my robe around myself before pulling the curtain aside just enough to see who was there.

I was greeted by raised eyebrows paired with one hand holding a bottle, and the other holding a pair of wine glasses. The eyebrows jumped comically. Laughing, I took a step back and unlocked the door to pull it open.

"I thought you might need to debrief."

I shrugged, making my way to the seat by the vanity.

"It's legitimately strange how well you know me sometimes."

Seunghyun just smiled as he toed off his shoes and slid the door shut behind him. After being prompted by a pointed nod from me, he made sure the curtains were back in place as well - a shield for our private conversations.

"I heard he took you on a boat," Seunghyun stated it like a fact, but I could tell he wanted confirmation.

I hummed, watching him uncork the bottle and pour us both a glass. His fingers were deft and swift. They moved with confidence through the series of motions.

"-by? Yah…"

I shook my head, pulling myself back to the moment.

"Sorry," I frowned, "what were you saying?"

He chuckled, holding a glass out towards me. I stood to take it, standing perhaps a little closer to him than was absolutely necessary.

He held his glass towards me. Raising my own, I lightly tapped it against his.

He gave me a pointed look.

"No," I said, "you should drink first oppa."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but he also raised his glass. After allowing him to take his time to taste the wine and swallow, I spoke up again.

"How is it?"

"Jammy," he said after considering his words carefully, "a little tart. Not bad."

I hummed.

He had to have known what I was doing. No way was I subtle about it.

He didn't stop me though.

I couldn't really make out such details that would lead to the descriptor of "jammy", but I could taste the remnants of sweetness and sourness well enough on his tongue.

After a moment I pulled away. Lifting my hand, I thumbed away an invisible droplet from his lips. The thumb was then placed against my own, my tongue coming out to taste it in a much more acceptable adaptation of the earlier moment with Jiyong.

Trained as they were on his face, it didn't escape my eyes the way Seunghyun's attention was locked onto the movement.

"Put that away before you cause trouble," his voice sounded strained when he spoke.

"Hmm…" I smiled up at him, "don't want to."

He took a moment to carefully place both of our glasses further back on the vanity. Straightening up afterwards, he took another moment to look me over. One of his arms looped around my back, pulling me close as his eyes ran over my face, neck, and assorted other spots of exposed skin.

Eventually, his eyes landed back on mine.

"How are you feeling?"

What a loaded question. I had already been fighting a losing battle against an unexpected wave of arousal when he showed up. I was a little embarrassed that all thoughts of Daesung had been pushed from my mind until this exact moment. That of course led to a brief detour into shame. That particular spiral was then cut short by how good Seunghyun's fingers felt on my skin when he reached up to brush my hair from my face.

His stern features were soft. It was a look that I kept seeing from him more and more often. A look I could see myself getting used to.

A look that simplified my answer.

"Good."

He nodded, serious as ever.

"A little more…" I tilted my head, thinking of how to describe it, "awake than I expected," I admitted.

There was a moment then. We both seemed to be waiting for something, but I didn't know what that might be.

It turned out to be my tongue. Once again, I slid it over my lips. More from nerves than anything else.

Seunghyun dropped his head slightly to press his lips against mine.

I hoped he wouldn't hold the sound I made against me. It was embarrassing enough just to have such a strong reaction to him. My head spun, thinking about the ups and downs of our dynamic over the last month. Or maybe it was from the kiss itself.

We had kissed before. Obviously. But this was different. This was a fight against a riptide, and I was more than willing to drown.

"Baby," Seunghyun was mumbling against my lips.

I groaned, annoyed at the attempted interruption.

"Baby."

He forced us apart this time. It was like he was determined to ruin the vibe.

"What?" I couldn't help the annoyed tone that slipped into my voice.

Confusion flashed over his face for a moment before he hardened his gaze.

"What happened?"

I blinked. I was not following his train of thought at all.

"What… you mean with Jiyong?"

He nodded, solemnly watching me.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "We went on a boat, we went to a sculpture park, we…"

I cut myself off. Did it really matter? A momentary lapse in judgment in a yacht hot tub with a man who was functionally my ex?

"Baby," softer this time, "you don't have to hide anything from me."

"We…" I huffed, then started again, "I…"

Seunghyun maneuvered the both of us, moving so he could sit at the vanity and pull me onto his lap.

"Take your time."

I let him pull me into him. Resting my head against his shoulder, reveling in the feeling of his hands soothing down my back. Breathing deeply, I could smell some faint cologne struggling to cover up that ever present tobacco scent that clung to him.

"It's stupid." I was pouting again, but trying not to let it color my voice too much. I'd much rather go back to the kissing than talk about how Jiyong could seemingly climb inside my skull at will.

"What is?"

"Me," I moved against him, getting my head into a more comfortable position. If that position also put me in closer reach of teasing his neck and ear… he didn't seem to notice, "probably."

"We both know that's not true," he laughed.

I didn't protest, but I didn't agree either. Instead, I simply sighed heavily, trying to sneak my lips onto where I could feel his pulse in his neck.

"Baby," he gently admonished me. His hands pulled me upright to meet his eyes again. "You know I'd love to keep going, but you also know this is a coping mechanism."

I rolled my eyes, "don't pretend you know me better than I know myself."

That got a reaction out of him.

His hand raised, tightly gripping my chin so there was no way I could look away again.

"Listen to me baby," his voice had gone deep with the intensity of his message, "I would have no issue fucking you until you couldn't walk, if that's what you truly wanted."

Another embarrassing sound eked its way up my throat and out from between my lips.

Seunghyun paused his lecture to kiss me, rougher than I had expected. He bit my lower lip, pulling a groan from me as he pulled back.

"However," he shook my chin slightly, demanding my attention raise from his lips to his eyes again, "I will only do so when I am one hundred percent certain that it is what you want and not just a distraction."

What was there for me to do besides blink? And after that, what option did I have but to start crying?

"Baby," he dropped his grip from my chin and tugged me against his body in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. I'm sorry baby. Please don't cry."

"I… I just don't understand…" I sobbed, embarrassment no longer a concern. "How…. He… Ji…"

"Deep breath baby," he crooned into my ear. He started rocking slightly, obviously going all out in his attempt to comfort me. "Breathe for me. You have all night to tell me what happened."

I'm sure all eloquence was lost as I tried to explain through unintelligible sobs and the deep breaths that Seunghyun would occasionally remind me to take, but eventually I was able to explain my concerns. At least to the point that Seunghyun eventually started telling me that I didn't need to explain anymore.

"It's okay, baby," his voice was low, quietly reassuring me, "I understand."

"The worst part is I don't even know why I care," I whined, "I just want him out of my head."

By now, we had made our way onto my bed. Seunghyun laid on his side, arms pulling me protectively into his chest while I had rambled out my complaints.

"Just being around him is like getting drunk," I mumbled. "I feel defenseless."

"You-"

A knock on the glass doors interrupted him. He frowned, looking down at me questioningly.

"Did you invite Daesung down?"

I shook my head, nerves twisting my gut.

"Maybe he want-"

My text tone interrupted me. Shuffling to free my hand from between Seunghyun's and my bodies, I turned to grab it from where I had dropped it on the mattress earlier.

From: Llyong Boho Awake?

I shut my eyes, holding my phone up for Seunghyun to see. I felt the soft vibration of another message coming in while he looked at the screen.

Seunghyun's jaw tightened. He took the phone from my hand and sat up.

"Don't…"

He leaned down to press a kiss against my forehead.

"I'm not going to message him. Just wait here for a moment, okay? I'll tell him you're sleeping."

I nodded, wondering why he looked so tense.

He stood up and ran his hands through his hair a few times. Back and forth, messing it up and then smoothing it back. After a second he undid the buttons of his shirt, all of them undone before he misbuttoned one near the middle. He paused for half a second. Nodding to himself, he then took his belt off. He let the leather strap land on my floor before he turned his attention back to me.

"Unlock your phone."

I pressed my thumb against the fingerprint reader and handed it over to him.

"Thank you baby. Pull the blanket over yourself, okay?"

I did as he asked, going as far as turning to face away from the sliding doors so Jiyong wouldn't see my face.

I heard the plastic rattling sound of the curtain runners, followed by the whooshing noise of the sliding door opening.

"What do you need?"

"What are you doing here?"

The crunching of gravel, followed by the whoosh of the door. I assumed Seunghyun had stepped outside.

It was a little disappointing to not be able to hear the conversation. However, I could appreciate not being drawn into it at all.

After maybe fifteen minutes, there was that whoosh yet again. I felt my body tense up.

"Baby?"

I relaxed, turning over to look up at Seunghyun. He gave me a small smile.

"He went back upstairs."

I nodded, "you didn't have to do that."

He placed my phone on the bedside table before unbuttoning his shirt again.

"I know, but I'd rather I deal with him than make you do it."

He moved as he spoke, draping his shirt over the seat by the vanity before turning back towards me. He nodded at the space next to me on the bed.

"Can I?"

Rather than answer, I simply opened my arms towards him.

His smile was wider this time, as he bent down to crawl up the mattress and over my body.

Supporting himself on his knees and forearms, he brushed his nose along my neck. It was followed by his lips pressing against my jaw.

"Hyun…" I sighed out his name as what had started as me baring more of my neck towards him turned into a stretch.

"Yes?" He asked, pulling away to watch me.

I traced my fingertips over his ribs and onto his back, pouting slightly. "Don't stop."

He moved, working one of his knees between mine and coming in for a kiss.

Just shy of my lips, he spoke again.

"I'm still not going to fuck you tonight."

I whined, digging my nails into his back to further express my annoyance.

He laughed, leaning onto his side slightly so he could run a hand down the side of my body.

"If you need me that badly," he paused to kiss my cheek lightly, "there are other things I can do."

His fingers paused, dipped just slightly under the waistband of my pajama shorts.

"Would you like that baby?"

#date roulette #dr:bb #dr:jy #bigbang fic #bigbang fanfic #bigbang x oc #bigbang #big bang fic #big bang fanfic #big bang x oc #jiyong #kwon jiyong #seunghyun #choi seunghyun #t.o.p #g dragon

[ceexb]

Only -15 minutes

Summary: Hobie was often occupied with battling criminals and capturing disruptive anomalies that refused to return to their own universe, while you were typically stuck in your mundane office job. It would be an understatement to say that you longed for his presence, but to your astonishment, he pays you an unexpected visit.

Pairing:black Afab reader x hobie

Warnings:fluff,smut,penetration,fingering? capitalism.18 and under dni

Words:778

The concept of the American dream is the idea of starting a new life regardless of one's background. However, what one person may view as success, another may see as a nightmare driven by capitalism.

Fortunately, you were able to secure a job that provided financial stability, even though you never saw yourself as the corporate type. Despite this, you despised your job due to the emotional toll it took on you, with stress and the prioritization of work over your own well-being. Your boyfriend, Hobie, often encouraged you to quit and not contribute to the capitalist system that profited off of you. He would have deep conversations with you, highlighting how you were just a participant in a race, forced to slave away in pursuit of success.

While working, your mind often wandered to thoughts of Hobie. However, you were brought back to reality by the monotonous sound of keys clicking and occasional coughs in the room filled with individual cubicles.

As your break began, you left your cubicle and entered the elevator to reach the first floor. Your plan was to go to the cafe and relax, taking your mind off work. Stepping out of the elevator onto the marble-tiled floor, your confident footsteps echoed.

Suddenly, you felt two long hands wrap around your waist from behind, lifting you up and twirling you. Startled, you came face to face with Hobie, who wore a smug grin, adorned with piercings and long hair. He chuckled at your shocked reaction, and you playfully slapped him for scaring you.

"What the hell, Hobie?" you exclaimed, squirming out of his embrace.

"What, can't I come see my girl at her job?" he replied.

"Visiting isn't the problem," you retorted, adjusting your wrinkled skirt and tucking a stray braid behind your ear. "It's the surprise attack."

He smiled, relieved and happy to see you, as he missed your smile and attitude. "What are you doing here? Don't you have work?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it can wait."

"Hobie, you can't just drop everything to see me," you protested.

"Why not?" he questioned, walking towards you,to pull you into another hug and kiss.

What you thought would be a quick peck turned into a passionate kiss that lasted over five seconds. Hobie's hands wandered, reaching down to grab your ass. Surprised, you pulled away, gasping for breath, ready to scold him. However, all you said was, "Not here," before dragging him down a hallway to a dark, empty room on the main floor.

It turned out to be the janitor's closet, with a lingering musty scent mixed with the smell of cleaning products. You pushed him against a shelf, accidentally knocking over a broomstick. Kissing him and panting between open-mouthed kisses, you struggled to unbuckle his belt, adorned with spikes.

"Need help, love?" he asked, noticing your pout and nod.

"Yeah," you replied, looking up into his eyes.

He undid his belt, pulled his pants down, and dropped them to his ankles. In moments like these, with limited time and bodies yearning to be touched, you and Hobie often skipped the talking and went straight to the physical connection.

With his hands resting on your hips and his eyes locked with yours, he lifted your thigh to meet his hips. Your skirt bunched up, revealing your underwear, and he reached down to trace the floral designs on your thong with his fingers in the dimly lit room, with only the light from under the door seeping through.

You started to moan softly, nuzzling into his neck and leaving marks with your nibbles and bites, knowing he would proudly display them. With two fingers, he removed your underwear and pulled you closer, exploring.

He pushed into you, and you gasped, needing a moment to adjust since time was limited and foreplay had to be skipped. Then he began moving rhythmically, drawing out your most intense moans.

"I've missed this," Hobie whispered into your ear, sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Same," you managed to say, unable to form anything more than a word.

Just as the passion intensified, the timer you had set on your phone for your break went off, abruptly ending the fun. You tried to ignore it, focusing solely on Hobie, but the sound reverberated in the room.

"Ugh, I have to head back," you said, your head pulled away from the deep kiss, resting your forehead against his.

"Why not stay?" Hobie suggested.

"Hobie, I really have to get back. My boss isn't as understanding as yours," you explained fishing for your clothes.

Hobie stared at you, full and well knowing the truth about Miguel .

#hobie my beloved #hobie x black!reader #first fic #therealceesblog #Spotify #hobie smut

[feministdragon]

Sasha Lilley:   Let me end by asking you about, how you think that radicals can help push things in a way that we can unstick the situation that we're stuck in. I mean the prevailing ideology, as you've described, is one of really of a hopelessness about any change beyond the present. The present is the best.

David Graeber: They cultivate a hopelessness. 

Sasha Lilley: Indeed. So how can we struggle against that hopelessness? And I don't mean in terms of a cheering squad. But how does one counter? How should radicals counter that ideological campaign, in a way that you think might be effective, shifting things in a different direction?

David Graeber:    We need to look at both what's happened in the past and also what's happening now. I really think that, if we can't know whether a good society is possible, it's better to like, live with hope, you know? I say it's a responsibility to others to do that. I go further. I think there is a responsibility, to actually look at the possibilities for improvement, and take the risk. It is possible.  But if you look around, what people do is the opposite. They look around, and they just can't believe that good things really are happening, when they are. An example: I always get, is Kurdistan, where I just got back from a few weeks ago.  (2018)

David Graeber: And this is where the YPG is fighting against against the remains of ISIS, and now against Turkey, which basically had been the sponsor of ISIS all along, but now kind of dropped the pretense and attacked them directly.  

Sasha Lilley:  and have embraced a radical ideology. Radical politics.

David Graeber: Yes. The philosophy which has largely developed, has emerged from the PKK and the sort of movements of women within the PKK challenged its old marxist ideology and gradually Ojalan, the sort of intellectual leader of the PKK, embraced this stuff and especially while he's been in prison, he's been reading a lot of Murray Bookchin and took up the ideas of social ecology, democratic confederalism, but doing a Kurdish version of that, with a very strong emphasis not just on ecology but on women's rights and replacing those proletarian revolutions as women's revolution.

Gender has to come first. So basically, when I was (unintelligible), people said quite frequently, it's that, well we're anti capitalists, but we've learned from the 20th century that you can't get rid of capitalism without getting rid of the state. And you can't get rid of the state without getting rid of patriarchy. How to get rid of patriarchy? It's going to be long and complicated process. But making sure all women have access to automatic weapons, that's a start. You know, all those images you see of women with machine guns, that's not a coincidence. So that's also not just like, oh, they're desperate to harm anybody. No, it's very, very self conscious feminist ideology going on there. And the fascinating thing to me is why, aren't people all over the world, saying “Oh my God, it's Spain 1930s all over again!” I mean, some are, right? But the reaction on the part of probably the majority of leftist organizations is “This can't be real. They're faking it. They're pretending to be like libertarian communists and eco-feminists, just to get our attention.” Which is of course, first of all, deeply racist. But even aside from that, I mean, it's like the most narcissistic, absurd position I ever heard. It's like “that's right. Really they are a bunch of stalinists. This is the line. But in order to get like Western left support they're pretending to be anarchists. Like sure. If I wanted to fake an ideology to get international support, I choose anarchism. That's going to happen! Total idiots.  If you’re going to fake an ideology you’re going to be liberal or an islamist, those kind of guns tanks and planes ideologies. But to show something about the sort of defeatism that people just can't believe it's really happening. 

https://kpfa.org/player/?audio=298917

#radfem #women with submachine guns #PKK #Kurdish #David Graeber #Dawn of Everything #feministdragon

[umbra-regina]

Immortal

Oh, this one should probably have a trigger warning for mentions/discussion of suicide.

Of course I'm not suicidal. I'm the only person I know who isn't at least a little suicidal, and it's so strange. I'm the only one of my friends who doesn't want their "miserable existence" to cease. The only one who isn't just barely surviving, who isn't just barely keeping the demons at bay long enough to go to bed and wake up again. I'm the only one angry at how little time we have.

I mean think about it - at best, you've got what, forty good years? The first twenty suck. You're too young to know how stupid you are, and you're too enamored by your own perceived greatness, your own invulnerability that you don't even realize how much time is flying by you. And by the time you've figured it out, your body is no longer growing; no longer repairing itself the way it used to. By twenty-three, you have to be careful because these injuries? They're going to last. They're going to alter your ability to function for decades. And all the dumb shit you did as a kid? It's starting to catch up with you. But at least you're finally (typically) done with the bullshit hormone dumps and crazy mood swings, right? So the good years finally start, because you can finally think clearly.

Then you're thirty, and statistically this is where the decline of the body really begins. Your metabolism slows, your tissues don't repair themselves at anywhere near the same efficacy they used to. Worse if you've got any kind of chronic illness and, let's face it, most people do. More than we realize, at least.

Forty, and if you had kids at 20 (I hope you didn't; you were still a kid yourself) your kids are now twenty. Maybe they're leaving home. Maybe our economy is so ruined that nobody can afford to leave their parents homes anymore. Maybe our parents can't afford their homes without the additional income. In this economy, you basically need three or four incomes for a good house, much less a proper diet. And dear gods, but isn't that infuriating? One used to be able to fuck off west, into nowhere, and build a home. Claim a homestead. You can't do that these days. And maybe, maybe, given enough time, you could change something. Given enough time, and money, and influence, you could begin to change things for the better! but -

Oh, that's right. You don't have the time. Between trying to make enough money to survive, and trying to be able to spend time with your family, it's been twenty years. You're sixty. If you've managed to make it that far without offing yourself or enduring a major injury, congrats! Now the physical decline begins to seriously accelerate. Despite best efforts, our bodies simply don't hold up the way they did when young. The process of aging is inevitable, and we still haven't found the fountain of youth. You got forty good years, physically speaking, and now you might (might) get to retire. Just in time to spend the (statistically) last 15-20 years of your life likely in assisted living or long term care because our society no longer holds value on the elders. They cannot as effectively contribute to our capitalist hellscape. Best to relegate them to forgotten corners and let them stagnate (literally, because how can one have integrity when forgotten and pushed aside? all that is left is stagnation and despair).

So no, I'm not suicidal. I'm angry. There is so much of the world that I want to see, so many things I'd like to do and experience and I don't have time. I don't have time, because we have such short lifespans - whispers of dust amongst the stars - and there is so much to appreciate. There are so many myriad things that make this life beautiful, and painful, and in that pain there is always eventually beauty because if it did not hurt, how could we know what it was like to be happy? If I had never known heartbreak, I could never love as freely and recklessly and deeply as I do. Heartbreak is not a pretty thing; I've discussed it before. But if all I focused on was the heartbreak, I would always miss out on the sheer joy of loving my husband. The euphoria of interacting with my friends. I would never notice how good the leaves smell in autumn as they crunch underfoot. I wouldn't be able to appreciate the crisp cold breeze that smells like the promise of snow. I wouldn't giggle at the snowflakes getting caught in my husband's beard, and I wouldn't eagerly call my friends over to look at the amazing sparkly rocks I find. We wouldn't travel hundreds of thousands of miles to vising the American National Parks and gawk at the glory of the ancient waterfalls that've been here longer than we have and that will be here long after we are. If all we focused on was how many things hurt, we could never see the beauty of a work of art, or appreciate the ancient graffiti that is so similar to ours.

There are as many infinite, tiny, myriad joys as there are myriad pains, and please, why can't you see them? Living requires as fierce and wild a joy and fury as being sad requires a determination. It is a difficult thing, both to be happy and to be sad. Why is it so difficult to also notice the things that make this life worth living?

Be furious. Be angry, because there is so much life to live in too little time. There is never enough time to notice all that should be appreciated. Love life with a relentless joy, with a passion equal to your hatred of living.

And please stop telling me paw prints in the snow aren't a good enough reason to be excited.