#is just an effort to drive a wedge between our communities | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letmenvt0nyovrlipz · 4 years

Text

Do You Have A Higher Sex Drive Than Your Partner?

By Stuart Nugent

September 28, 2020

We often discuss dealing with a partner with a higher sex drive than you. But what if you are that partner? What advice is there for those of us whose sexual appetite isn’t being fulfilled?

LELO has compiled 5 tough-love tips to help cope with a higher level of sexual desire than your partner when you’re dedicated to making it work. Unfortunately, it means you might need to adapt your own behavior to compromise with your partner.

1. It’s Not All About You

It’s fairly normal for couples to have varying levels of sexual desire, and it’s hard not to take it personally when your advances are constantly rebuffed. But you need to remember that a partner’s lack of sexual interest may have very little to do with any of your attributes. It could be related to a hormone deficiency or physiological issue. More likely, it could be about their sense of themselves, rather than a reflection of you. It’s not easy for them to know that you want more sex than they can offer, so while it may be painful for you, it’s probably painful for them too. To improve the situation for both of you, you need to understand their perspective as best you can.

2. Change Tact

If you’re regularly frustrated by the lack of sexual activity in your relationship, and you want to do something about it, you need to approach the situation differently. Clearly your current behavior isn’t working, so it’s time to change your approach because it’s likely you have both slipped into opposite roles with each other. You pursue them for sex, they decline, you push harder, they feel pressured, tension mounts, nothing gets resolved. Back away a little bit, allow them a little room to be comfortable, and remember number 1: this isn’t all about your needs. Take a break from trying to initiate sex, and wait a week or two. Sometimes the pressure you’re putting on your partner is what’s pushing them away – they may respond more positively in time if they are simply allowed to respond by their own volition.

3. Masturbate

Masturbation is awesome. I honestly don’t know why we aren’t doing it all the time. It’s a wonder we ever get anything else done. But more importantly, it’s an important pressure valve for both partners in a relationship. It’s not reasonable to expect a partner to take care of each and every need, so use some time to focus and concentrate on yourself. There’s a good chance you’re already doing this more than you’re letting on, and as such, it feels secretive and shameful, and you might be resenting your partner for putting you in this position. But that’s the wrong way to look at it. Embrace it as a valid and nourishing outlet for sexual expression. It might take a difficult conversation with your partner to explain why you’re doing it so you don’t have to do it in secret, but honestly, if your masturbation has already led to resentment, it’s a conversation that needs to be had urgently.

4. Be Intimate Without Expecting Sex

Many of us don’t realize we’re doing it, but many of us only really touch our partners affectionately when we want sex. If the partner with the lower sexual desire learns to recognize these touches as representing a sexual initiation, it can lead them to resent the intimate touching, if they’re already aware of the discrepancy between your sex drives. That’s only going to compound the wedge between you. You need to show more affection without sexual implications. Affection and intimacy should permeate the relationship, not just be the hostages to sexual desire, and showing more affection separate from sex will reassure your partner that you’re in the relationship for more than the physical parts. Therefore, there’s less pressure on them, and they’re more likely to relax and be comfortable with you.

5. Be Honest

As the more sexual person in your relationship, the temptation to seek sex out beyond the limits of your current partnership without your partner’s knowledge or permission will inevitably cause more trouble than it’s worth. Cheating is cheating, whatever the reason. Before the temptation to step out of line and find another partner with whom you can indulge your sex drive, make sure your partner knows how serious the situation is. It goes without saying that you should remain honest and communicate openly in every point made so far, but this one, when it’s come so far that you’re considering the merits of cheating, is the point at which you really need to face up to your responsibility, and your partner needs to face up to theirs. Tell your partner, calmly, and not in the heat of an argument, that you’ve considered exploring sex outside the relationship to satisfy your needs, and that if things don’t change, you’re not sure what the outcome might be. If they are unwilling to put in the effort to see if they can compromise and accommodate you, perhaps the relationship has run its course. Perhaps they might even be on board with you seeking sex beyond the relationship. Perhaps they make you realize your demands are unrealistic. However it pans out, at least through honesty you’ll get some of your doubts answered.

#high sex drive #higher #sex drive #lelo #sex education

29 notes · View notes

clocktowncourage · 3 years

Text

@dcviated

Lifetimes after a young soldier named Atro disappeared in a mysterious mansion, a horse carriage pulls up to its front door. Its three passengers are tired. They must have come a long way, if the fresh layer of road dirt on the carriage and the sweat soaking under the horses’ tack is any evidence. But arriving at their destination seems to breathe new life into them, and they exit the carriage with an energy that wasn’t there before.

Kafei looks over his shoulder at Avver, the Clock Town soldier who’s on his way to tie up the horses. Avver nods back at Kafei. Kafei’s father, Mayor Dotour, is used to people doing things for him and walks on ahead, smiling slightly at the perfect weather. Kafei turns back and catches up to his father, who is ambling on with a combination of purpose and aimlessness that reminds him of an oversized bee.

He noticed that Dotour is treating Avver like scenery, and it doesn’t sit right; Kafei isn’t from his parents’ generation, and he certainly isn’t a politician. He doubts his father will ever change, there will surely always be tension between them. But somehow, this trip has been unusually pleasant. They talked about books and history, which had become a welcome topic of conversation for a trip focused on initial efforts to rescue a lost library. Kafei was surprised by how much Dotour knew about history, an interest he usually accepts as too niche to talk to most people about. And Dotour seemed surprised by just how much Kafei knew. Sometimes Dotour doesn’t like to learn that people know more than him about things. But that was okay too, somehow. Things have been going so unnaturally well that Kafei is almost waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“There it is,” Dotour says with satisfaction, crossing his arms and looking at the old mansion. “Let’s get your books.”

“Well, the town’s books,” Kafei laughs humbly. “It would be the opposite of helping your image for the election if people thought that I was taking the books.” He looks back over his shoulder at Avver again, for new reasons entirely.

But Dotour doesn’t answer him. Just bobs his head from side to side noncommittally. And suddenly, the other shoe is on the ground, and Kafei knows.

“You didn’t... you didn’t come here because of publicity that will help you win the election,” he says slowly, looking at his father. “People in Clock Town don’t care about books and they don’t care about history. This isn’t part of your campaign at all.”

Dotour makes a noncommittal noise and shakes his head from side to side again. Now he’s smiling. Kafei is not. Kafei was being caught in webs before he was trying to catch people in them. The feeling of suddenly finding that he’d been carefully steered into something of the old man’s design is familiar and humiliating, even if it’s well-intentioned this time around. There’s a memory of a child’s bafflement at trying to keep up with an adult, tangled up in the experience. Was his father smarter than him? Or just older?

“If you want to spend time with me, you can just spend time with me!” Kafei snaps, taking a step back and glaring. “Play the sad violin about Mom being too pushy to communicate with all you’d like, but I’m not her!”

“It is for the campaign,” Dotour says, suddenly serious. Kafei blinks. Dotour sighs, a warning tell that he’s going to cooperate but sees it as a special sacrifice he expects credit for. “I have been running a town that makes my son want to disappear,” he says quietly. “What would you think of that, in my place? You’re quite right that no one cares about history or restoring a library. But it will only be seen as respectable and mature if a mayoral candidate starts caring more about things like that. I want to make Clock Town a place where you want to live, Kafei.”

Kafei never could have predicted just how many people would really notice if he disappeared for a month without warning. For a moment, all he can do is stare at his father. He’s not sure how he feels about this. Then he thinks about it some more and decides he’s angry.

“No,” he says, finally. “You don’t get to do this to me. You can’t tie me up in a grand gesture that’s hidden behind twelve layers of secrecy and put the responsibility on me to magically guess what it represents and do all the work to make that heal our relationship. The minute things get hard when we have real conversations, you always tap out, you blame things on other people, usually me. And for the record, you treated me like I was invisible for a long time before I disappeared. Do you want this conversation? Do you really want this? Is this for my benefit at all, or just for you? If you apologize for literally anything, I’ll talk to you. Literally one thing.”

Dotour looks taken aback. “Well... well I don’t know what you mean by an apology,” he says carefully, not looking at Kafei. “I thought the day has been going pretty well so far...”

Kafei snorts like exactly, then storms into the old mansion by himself, leaving Dotour blinking in the sunlight. The worst part of this is, they have a trip of several hours ahead of them just to get back to town, and they’re probably going to spend it fighting. Or sullenly silent. Kafei runs the conversation over in his mind. Was he too harsh? Would Dotour spend half this much energy wondering about his impact on Kafei? The library, at least, is exactly what he hoped it would be. He almost forgets about the fight as he takes in just how many books are here.

Then he steps on an old bloodstain. And the one who’s been trying to be remembered crosses paths with the one who’s been trying to disappear.

_______________

When the horrible sensation stops, Kafei is lying on the floor of the mansion. There’s something on his face. He slowly reaches up to touch it. It’s cold and metallic, and he can’t get it off. Okay. He sits up slowly and inspects an awful swollen bite on his right arm. How? When? Why?? He doesn’t have to roll up his sleeve to see it, and his outfit doesn’t even have sleeves anymore, he’s wearing a loose tunic and sandals.

He’s just taken all of this in, and suddenly a group of soldiers with spears are running towards him, shouting Atro! Atro!! His days tangled up with the Curiosity Shop man’s little operation have left him with a strong impression that he’s got nothing to say to soldiers and policemen and the like. His thoughts immediately go to how guilty he might look, how he might talk his way out of the encounter. But this group treats him like a long lost friend. And then he realizes that they’re wearing the same outfit that he is. When that clicks, he smiles and acts like he recognizes them, mind racing, looking for clues about what in the world is going on. His ‘buddies’ help him stand and bring him back out of the mansion, supporting him between them no matter how much he insists that he's just fine (a lie).

The first major clue comes in the form of meeting Captain Keeta face to face. There’s no question it’s him. The other soldiers call him that, and he looks just like the illustrations Kafei has seen in books. Now his legs really do fail to support him, completely. What!! How is this possible?

The history books write Captain Keeta as quite the positive figure, like someone you’d want to be friends with. Face to face with the man, Kafei suddenly understands that a military commander from a country that actively wages wars is like, an ultimate kind of cop. Kafei feels guilty for lying to the soldiers and acting like Atro. He feels guilty for things he did back in his own timeline. He feels guilty for things he might do in the future. But Captain Keeta, it turns out, also cares quite a lot about looking out for his soldiers. He asks Kafei about the wound. He shows real sympathy for the injury.

But then he asks him why there’s a golden spider mask on his face. And then they try to get it off, and they can’t. And then Captain Keeta wants to know why they can’t get it off. And when Kafei doesn’t have a good answer, Captain Keeta arrests him.

Well, not really. But the Captain sure as hell knows that his soldier didn’t go into that spider-infested mansion with a mark of the enemy stuck to his face. The bite is suspicious too. He doesn’t say, You’re under arrest, but he does say that the mission will be delayed and that he needs to take Atro back to the capitol to be seen by a shaman. And until they can get a shaman to look at Atro’s situation, there will unfortunately be a possibility that Atro could be a danger to the other soldiers, so he’s placed under a sort of quarantine. ...Saying that Kafei got arrested sure does capture the gist while saving time.

The journey to the capitol is uncomfortable. Kafei is able to gain some sympathy and push away suspicion by maintaining that he has amnesia from his experience and can only remember his name. But Captain Keeta hasn’t been told any details that would explain amnesia from natural causes, so that simply makes him more suspicious about just how bad this curse might be. The two soldiers who come with them are friendly, but they mirror the Captain’s suspicions, which really drives a wedge. Kafei considers wryly that the universe heard that he didn’t want to ride back to Clock Town with his father just to fight or stew and gave him an alternative. No, yeah, this is worse. He also finds out that Atro is only eighteen, and he almost laughs out loud, at that. Is it just his fate, to keep getting cursed into some form of tater tot? He’s oddly calm...he’s grateful for it, but he has no illusion that it will last.

When they get to the capitol, there’s a huge celebration going on, and... could Kafei be blamed for slipping into the crowd at the first opportunity? That’s his go-to reaction to being arrested, at any rate. He genuinely feels guilty about stealing a keaton mask (Ikana had keaton masks!) from a partygoer who isn’t paying attention to their stuff. Unfortunately for the partygoer, having a big spider stuck to his face, and being seen in that state, and getting caught, is scarier to Kafei than the guilt. Artfully swiping some meat on a stick from a vendor only feels right, for completing the disguise of definitely belonging here. Then the music changes and everybody starts dancing in an area over there, and Kafei rushes over and slyly takes the hand of a silver-haired girl. He asks her how this one goes, bobbing to the music like he’s having a good time, like he’s a happy puppy who’s just met a new friend. He’d definitely forgive Anju for rushing to go dance with a boy if it was to distract people trying to arrest her again. Not that anybody would try to arrest Anju. Oh wow, he really pities the self who will have to deal with all of this shit that’s going on, once the shock wears off.

#dcviated #I write a lot..... we know this!!#pls feel free to write an equally long reply & really knock your socks off with that; alternately; no pressure to match length

0 notes

mst3kproject · 4 years

Photo

The Manster

Who has two thumbs and is back on terra firma with working wifi? This MSTie!

As for my chosen subject this week… I don’t think I have to justify this one. It’s called The Manster, as in a portmanteau of man and monster. It was directed by a guy who mostly made cheap-ass jungle movies, and stars a bunch of embarrassed actors who don’t know how they ended up here. It’s old and it’s dumb and it’s often pretty funny though never on purpose, and the perfect stinger moment comes very early in the film… you’ll know it when you see it.

So we have Dr. Robert Suzuki, who lives on top of a volcano. When people have ‘Dr’ in front of their names and live in isolation with a bunch of blinky light machines, that’s usually a pretty good clue that they’re mad scientists. Tragically our hero, Larry Stanford, is not that observant (Larry’s obliviousness would have been a constant target for Mike and the bots and he would have deserved all of it). He’s a reporter who wants an interview about Suzuki’s theories on the causes of mutations, but too bad for him, he arrives just as the mad doctor has run out of family members to experiment on. Under the influence of Suzuki’s injections he’s soon devolving into an animalistic frat-boy, drinking, carousing, and murdering… oh, and he’s growing a second head. Will that be a problem?

So basically this is a werewolf movie with a fake mustache on… or perhaps a Jekyll and Hyde movie of sorts, as discussed in the denouement. It wants to explore the dichotomy of good and evil in every one of us, using the very silly device of a two-headed man. I have to say, I understand the metaphor, but it wasn’t put to nearly good enough use. The movie would have been ten times more fun if we’d gotten to see Larry and his second head arguing over whether or not they’re going to kill somebody. Not better, mind you, just more fun.

As far as just being a movie goes, The Manster is better than a lot of things I’ve watched for this blog. The characters have names and look different enough that you can tell them apart, the story makes sense on its own terms and everything that happens is relevant to the plot. Photography is honestly pretty good and the actors are competent. All this happens to be in the service of a really silly story with awful special effects (I love Larry’s rubbery second head bouncing as he runs) but it’s engaging enough that you want to keep watching.

What I really like about The Manster, however, is that it offers a lot to analyze. I’m not sure much of it is intentional. The Jekyll and Hyde side of the story is elucidated in an ending speech, as Larry’s friend Ian tries to reassure Mrs. Stanford. He says there was good and evil in Larry, and they’ll just have to wait and see which side wins. This is not a very satisfying ending, really. We’ve just seen Larry’s evil side plummet to its death into a volcanic crater… and the surviving good side is under arrest as a serial killer. Dr. Suzuki and his assistant, the only people who could testify that Larry was not responsible for his actions, are both dead. This guy’s going to jail.

The really interesting thing in the movie, though, is one that comes up by accident. Dr. Suzuki’s work is on evolution – his theory is that cosmic rays can induce mutations, producing new species more or less overnight (this is called ‘macromutation’ or ‘the hopeful monster theory’, and lurked on the edges of the mainstream in the 40’s and 50’s) and he hopes to induce the same effect chemically. When he tries, however, his efforts invariably produce monsters. Emiko, his wife and former research partner, turns into something resembling the closet monster from The Brain that Wouldn’t Die. Kenji, his brother, turns into a yeti, and a similar fate awaits Larry. These mutants cannot understand human speech, and their behaviour is irrational and violent.

This implies a couple of things. We hear vague mentions of Dr. Suzuki experimenting on fungi, but his heart is mostly in his human experiments. That tells us that his goal is to speed up the evolution of humanity, and one presumes that this is intended to improve us somehow. Of course, this is not how evolution works. Evolution does not make things better – this is why biologists have mostly dropped the descriptions primitive and advanced in favour of the more neutral basal and derived. Dr. Suzuki’s quest is therefore quite misguided, as illustrated by his monsters. In no way could they be considered ‘better’ than humans – in fact, they’re significantly worse at surviving and reproducing (the thing natural selection selects for) than ordinary people are.

There’s another layer here, though. ‘Evolution makes things better’ is a misconception that’s been around since Darwin, and dates back to even earlier ways of organizing the natural world. When Linnaeus created the classification system for living things that we’re still saddled with today, he did it under the believe in the Great Chain of Being – the idea that you can order everything that exists into a hierarchy with mold at the bottom and god at the top, and that after god and the angels humans are the best thing that exists (as proved by our being the only creatures able to create classification systems). It’s an idea that appeals to human vanity and to our need to impose order on the natural world, and it isn’t likely to go away anytime soon.

With that in mind, perhaps there’s another reason Suzuki’s experiments fail. If you believe that humans are the best living thing around, particularly if you believe we are the image of god on earth, then maybe it’s not possible to improve on us. Any change you make to people that takes them away from humanity will automatically make them worse. This idea does appear to be manifest in the fates of Emiko, Kenji, and Larry, all of whom become more apelike, less ‘advanced’, as they change.

In that case, what does The Manster think makes for a good human? We see a little of Larry before he starts to mutate, so we can compare that with what he becomes. Rather surprisingly for a movie of this vintage, the fact that Larry is white seems to be pretty incidental. He is a foreigner in a faraway place, but this serves mostly to drive a wedge between him and his wife Linda. Except for a couple of rather troubling moments, the film does not present Japan in an exotifying light. We do see things like a bathhouse and a geisha bar, but these represent Larry’s personal slide into debauchery, rather than the country as a whole. We also meet normal working people among both the Japanese and the American expat community – reporters, police officers, and even priests.

There’s a very nice bit, actually, where Larry comes upon a Buddhist priest praying, and when he realizes this man doesn’t speak English, Larry takes the opportunity to unburden himself. It makes him feel better to talk about his moral quandaries aloud, and the fact that the priest doesn’t understand him means he cannot judge him. This is a very relatable and human moment, one of the best in the movie.

Unfortunately, it also segues into a couple of the most distasteful things in the film. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Larry does murder the priest, but before he does, he stares at a particular statue in the shrine – a representation of a three-eyed, fanged being that I am in no position to identify, although it looks a bit like Vajrapani. Before Larry grows a full second head he sprouts an extra eye in his shoulder, and the implication is that the three-eyed statue draws his attention to the monster within himself. I don’t know much about Buddhism but I do not like the idea of casting another culture’s religious figures as symbols of monstrosity. The west has done plenty enough of that.

But back to the question of acceptable humanity. We watch Larry get drunk, violent, antisocial, lazy, and promiscuous, which tells us that the ‘good’ man is the opposite of these things: sober, peaceful, friendly, hardworking, and chaste. The film pays particular attention to how Larry relates to women. The fact that he’s been faithful to his distant wife is established early on, and one of the first symptoms of his devolution is his willingness to discard her. First he makes out with a couple of girls at the geisha bar, and later he takes Dr. Suzuki’s assistant Terra (who has a tragic backstory but we frustratingly never find out what it entails) as his mistress. On the phone with his wife Linda at the beginning of the film, Larry tells her he loves her and promises to be home soon. Later, when she comes to Japan searching for him, he shouts at her and makes a show of preferring Terra.

One conversation he has with Linda is particularly revealing. He tells her he has no desire to settle down in one place and wile away his time drinking coffee and playing bridge when there’s a big wide world out there. She asks him what about her plans, and he declares he will ‘put her in her place’ and ‘slap her down’. Since this is when Larry is the opposite of what a good man should be, we can take from it that a good man respects his wife and takes her opinions and needs into account. For the late fifties, this is actually kind of surprising – I’ve seen films from a decade or two later that were far more backward about this. So hey, points for that.

All things considered, The Manster is a pretty well-made movie. It’s dumb and full of clichés, such as the man scientist destroyed by his own creation, the femme fatale who sacrifices herself for the hero because she’s fallen in love with him, theremin music to represent the monster’s appearance, etc etc etc… but it’s competently put together and whether intentionally or no, contains a lot of interesting material. It’s the sort of movie I can watch repeatedly and always find something new in. Definitely recommended viewing for the 50’s Monster Flick fan, although with the caveat that there is a scene in which one character urges another to commit suicide.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the manster #guys in gorilla suits #tw: suicide #50s

27 notes · View notes

shadowron · 4 years

Text

Shadows of Las Vegas: Sin City in the Sixth World for Shadowrun

[This comes our way courtesy of professional decker turned professional gambler, Lotus. Born in Seattle, he now lives in Vegas, and he gives us his particular viewpoint on his new city. – Captain Chaos]

Shadows of Las Vegas

by Lotus

Get it? Get it?

Anyone who’s been to Vegas knows that it’s so bright, everywhere, that there are no shadows. The same goes for our Shadows -- for a city more or less openly run by the Mob (or rather, three Mobs, more on that later), there’s no reasons for criminals to hide. That tells you most of what you need to know about Vegas. The following saying tells you the rest:

“To call Las Vegas ‘Sin City’ is an insult. Not to the City, but to Sin.”

Yes, yes, there’s gambling. There’s gambling everywhere -- the kind you find in the bright lights of the Core is just the meatspace version of the countless Matrix sites. But in Vegas you can gamble on *anything*. Your smoky OTB down the street is nothing compared to the intestine-inverting stench of the underground troll on dwarf death-matches that happen at derelict warehouses in North Las Vegas.

Yes, yes, there’s prostitution, which is the fancy Anglo word for “whores”. It’s been legal here so long it’s blase -- but remember that Vegas gets regular visitors from all around the world, and everybody has a different itch that can be scratched for a price. Like blondes? Come on, too easy. Blonde teenage ork teens? A dozen geriatric troll men? A cockatrice? Anything for a price.

50 ¥, Grandpa. For 75 ¥, the wife can watch.

Which is the real reason people like you and me come to Vegas -- anything can be bought and sold for a price. The desert around Vegas is a prime stopover on smuggling routes between Los Angeles (and the rest of the California Free State) up through Ute to Denver, and from there to the rest of North America. Chips, drugs, guns, slaves, telesma -- you can always find something if you know the right people. Right now the commodity of choice? Water. The Ute’s a desert, folks.

A lot of people (who skipped history in high school) think Vegas is like Seattle or Denver -- an independent or UCAS enclave that was carved out after the Great Ghost Dance. It’s actually full-on Ute territory, it’s just that the Indians knew that Vegas was never going to change and didn’t even try to eject the Anglos and take over. So, the Ute security force keeps a wide perimeter around the city, and basically allows it to keep rotting from within. Poisoned land, some of their shamans say -- best to let the infection run its course, then come back later and rebuild on the scab.

The real reason is much simpler -- money.

Both legal and illegal business account for a majority of the Ute’s tax base. When you next buy your ticket to Vegas (or if you’re feeling adventurous, buying a permit to drive in), zoom in on the various extra fees that get slapped on it -- one of them will be for a temporary tourist visa that lets you stay in the country. Every time you slot your credstick to get another drink, sales tax makes its way back up to Provo, and odds are every roll of the loaded dice can put the last of your nuyen into the fur-lined pockets of the Comanche Mob.

Crime

So, let’s talk about crime.

There’s the Mob, the Triclops, the three “I”s -- the Italians (Verontesse family), the Irish (Wynne family) and the Indians (Comanche tribe) -- who are the biggest players: they control the Strip and every activity, legitimate or otherwise, contained within. They work hard to keep their cash cow bright, clean, and tourist friendly -- any settling of vendettas must be done *quietly* or risk bringing down the wrath of all families (an excellent source of shadow work, by the way). I know some of you runners try to avoid mob runs, to avoid the risk of getting caught under the thumb of the local capo, but in Vegas, it is impossible to avoid their influence. Any bit of shadow biz involves the Mob in some way, so you might as well calm down and accept it.

The Yakuza are a solid, yet distant, second place when it comes to organized crime in Vegas, despite their best efforts to drive a wedge between the mob families. Other than the large casinos, the yaks dabble in everything, and it’s not too hard to find a discrete agent working any given block of the Strip.

Beyond that, it’s a smorgasbord of everyone else: the Triads (Chinese), Seoulpa Rings (Korean), and every type of gang and low-life you can imagine. Which reminds me...

Corps

The smarmy side of me is complaining that, in covering criminals, I have yet to cover the megacorps in Vegas.

Har har har.

More true than usual in Vegas, though -- the largest corps in terms of gross earnings and personnel run the casinos: The Flamingo Casino Group (owned by the Verontesse Mafia), the Wynne Conglomerate (Wynne family) and the Wind Speaker Corporation (owned by the Comanche Mob). None of them are multi-national (and are thus unranked by the Corporate Court), but since they only operate in Ute (Vegas and Reno), they can throw down with any other megacorp in town.

The only big boys (AAA ranked) in town with an auspicious presence are Aztechnology and Renraku. The Azzies are rumored to own the Luxor pyramid casino (along with rumors of blood sacrifices on the roof) and have their Ute HQ downtown (unique among the megas, who if they are allowed to do business in Ute, have to stay in Provo). Renraku performs a critical function in Vegas -- they are the primary supplier of gambling machine hardware and software. Yes, the mob runs the casinos, but they must buy their machines from Renraku.

A summary of the rest of the Mega’s presence within Vegas:

Ares: Ford, Weapons World, Knight Errant (private security)

Fuchi: Virtual Meetings Inc. (telepresence), Fuchi Simsense Studios

Mitsuhama: Sakura Studios (simsense), Black Lotus (software)

Saeder-Krupp: BMW

Shiawase: Shiawase Atomics Southwest (nuclear power)

A summary of the rest of the worst, along with their ranking and primary area of business:

Buce Talent (unranked, entertainment) – who helps book of those acts? They do.

ESP Systems (A, simsense) – based in Chicago, solid presence in Vegas

Istus International (A, real estate) – an up and comer, recently constructed HQ in Vegas

Lone Star (AA, private security) – they’re not the “cops” though, more on that later

UNLV (unranked, education) – they incorporated back in the 20s as a for-profit university

The above is by no means complete – but if you’re hired for some local shadow biz, and it isn’t through the syndicates, it’s likely through one of them. If not, it’s likely through the…

Las Vegas City Government

Spend a day in Vegas and it’s easy to forget that you’re technically a temporary visitor to the Ute Nation – remember the Ute is basically defined by their anti-Anglo sentiment – but if you look closely at the logos on the Strip Panicbuttons, you’ll see the LVCG. Depending on your viewpoint, the LVCG is either the token gesture to Ute Nation membership or just another branch of the Comanche Mob. Either way, no one gets elected to a LVCG position without approval from Provo.

The only respectable aspect (IMHO) of the LVCG is that they resisted corporate takeover of their law enforcement (Lone Star and Knight Errant stand poised to take over, should something change), so the other sign of the LVCG you’ll see is the Metropolitan Police (MetroPol for short, MP for shorter, the latter also a dig at their somewhat militant response in some cases). The MetroPol do a good job at keeping law & order on the Strip (anything else would be bad business), in exchange for that the mobs let the MPs make a token bust to show to the public that the casinos are “clean”.

Beyond the Strip

That said, MetroPol really only cares about keeping clean the pieces of Vegas that bring in money. While technically having jurisdiction over the entire city, you’ll see Halley’s Comet before you see an MP on patrol north of the city. Highway Patrol is the roughest division, as they form the front-line troops keeping the rabble from encroaching in the city. When they do venture off the interstate, it is only in armored vehicles and full riot gear.

It’s not really as bad as you might think, it only seems that way compared to the sterile streets of the Strip only a few miles away. Some areas of interest:

Chinatown (Spring Mountain & Red Rock) – center of Triad activity (natch) in Vegas.

Koreatown (Spring Valley & Rainbow) -- center of Seoulpa Ring activity in Vegas. Also borders Chinatown, meaning that border is a Triad/Ring battleground.

Henderson – corp burb, has experienced huge expansion in the past five years. All shades of high class, so dress like you belong. Middle to high class residential.

North Las Vegas Barrens – ‘nuff said. Most of you probably live here, so I won’t say more.

Enterprise/Spring Valley/Summerlin – if not in the Barrens, that means you’re a moderately successful runner/mobster and live here. Middle to low class residential. Boring.

Paradise – Just east of The Strip and just north of the airport, this area is home to UNLV, some up and coming nightclubs, and a good chunk of the Vegas magical community. Home to the only Vegas Wiz-Kid gang.

Boulder City – a Ute city, gambling free, meaning this is the effective southern border of the Vegas sprawl. Ute military patrols out of here, so watch your step folks.

Ute Air Station (formerly Nellis Air Force Base) -- the effective northern border of the Vegas sprawl. Ute military patrols out of here too, though UAS duty isn’t the most sought after (most injun flyboys prefer the former Hill AF Base near Salt Lake), and as a result have a permanent bad attitude. And by “bad attitude”, we mean would rather geek you than talk to you, given any excuse.

Getting in and out…

…by Air:

99% of visitors to Vegas come through McCarren International Airport. Nominally owned by the Ute government, its day to day operations are governed by a consortium of local corps (the mob, the megas, etc.). Security is typical for a North American airport, which is lower than you might expect. There are a few other places to land a plane in Vegas – there is a private airport in Henderson that caters exclusively to corp traffic (really, anyone with enough money can use the facilities). There is a similarly sized airfield in North Las Vegas, though regular air traffic left it years ago as the area degraded into the hellhole it is today. However, you still find the occasional black market panzer or VSTOL sneaking in at night.

And, of course, there’s the UAS, which keeps a pretty tight radar net around the area (one thing they actually can do fairly well). You can sneak in some unscheduled chopper flights within the city without a flight plan (or a bogus one) – what is Vegas without some spontaneity? – but try to make a break to the Hoover Dam and you might end up as target practice for the UAS SAM batteries.

…by Sea:

Don’t be an asshole. (still a desert, folks)

…by Land:

Since the rest of the Ute nation uniformly despises the people of Vegas, and Vegas is surrounded on all sides by Ute territory, road traffic is discouraged, to say the least. Few locals stop, but some drive through. You get a few more visitors that come from Cal Free through Ute, though they better be tribal or rich enough to bribe your way through. I-15 is the major thoroughfare in this regard – north to Provo, Salt Lake, and points beyond, south to Cal Free. Route 93 is the other road that cuts through the city, though not quite as active (who wants to go to Reno anyway?). The bulk of traffic heading in and out of the city are freight vehicles (and most unmanned and remotely controlled, which has led to some interesting encounters from bands of North Las Vegas ruffians); this includes the heavy rail lines running through town.

…Illegitimately:

Which is, honestly, probably what you were interested in in the first place, and, natch, is going to depend upon your resources and level of desperation.

What not to try – being a stowaway.

Ute is paranoid about Anglos sneaking in and retaking over the territory, so they’ve wised up to neo-hobos breaking into open train cars or sneaking into the back of semi cabs. Companies must file manifests for every train and truck passing in and out of Vegas, listing content delivered, content picked up, delivery times, and so on. These are verified by layers of drone sensor systems, both fixed and mobile, at the city boundaries. And for every camera the Utes have on your cargo, there are two guns aimed in case something is up. If you want to smuggle something in by land, make a mob contact with the myriad of trucking companies they control.

What to try – use the airport.

Seriously, the flimsiest of fake identities if usually enough to get you in and out of McCarren; Vegas makes it money through tourism, so as long as you’re not on the UCAS Ten Most Wanted List, expect an easy trip into Vegas (and if you are on the list, you’ll only get an extra pat-down). Somewhat harder to get out (people don’t spend money once they leave), but not that much harder.

Away from the strip and the highways, there is a small and tight-knit panzer community operating out of North Las Vegas, using the surrounding mountains as camouflage in and out. High risk, high reward, and high prices if you want to tag along. That is, if you can find someone willing to talk to you.

Finally, in a worst case-scenario, you can just walk in and out of Vegas – the Ute sensor net, while probably locating you, has bigger problems than a drunk Anglo wandering into the desert and dying of heat stroke. And there are enough hiding places within the mountains that you could make it to Cal Free undetected if you had enough water…

#shadowrun #las vegas

18 notes · View notes

queer-omens-in-the-archives · 4 years

Text

ok i'm seeing whiffs on my dash of The Good Old Exclusionary Rhetoric again, but this time packaged to drive a wedge between bi and pan people with "pansexuality is an inherently biphobic identity". i'm so sad and angry. when and where will it stop.

literally y'all. do you not see the problems with that statement? do you not see how this is exclusionary rhetoric, meant to divide the queer community where we stand united? don't you remember "these broadly overlap but the difference matters to some people and that's okay"? where has that solidarity and acceptance gone?

do you not see the similarities to ace discourse, to trans-exclusionary rhetoric? do you not see where all that is going? what the end goal is? do you not see that we need solidarity -- all of us, between all of us, no matter how we may choose to label our experiences for ourselves -- in the face of systemic oppression? do you really think we need to invalidate and nitpick each other's identities and experiences among ourselves, when cis- and hetero-normative society is already figuratively hungry for our blood, and will get it if we do not practice acceptance and tolerance within our own community? do you not see that?

like... as a personal aside. i've been on tumblr since 2012, and (clumsy as it could be sometimes) i miss those times when unconditional acceptance, unity and community support were much more widespread. as they should be. like the community was never homogeneous, but this is the space where i first felt safe questioning myself and everything i was ever taught, because i was given the space to do so safely, without judgement or hatred or fear. i want other people in the future to have that space, too. everyone deserves to have that space of community support for authentic self-discovery.

and im so sad and angry, seeing that very same space getting more and more divided, seeing exclusionary discourse getting bolder every year. it feels like every year more people fall for it. and it blows my mind, with how OBVIOUS the intent to divide is, and how predictable the evolution of ~the discourse~ is, that some folks still play into it. im so sad and angry. and tired.

another aside. if your community support does not already come from a place of compassion and understanding for fellow queer people and their experiences, no matter how unlike yours they are; if it comes from wanting to be perceived as "in the right"; if you want to be the one telling people what they are or are not allowed to experience or identify as. remember that, systematically, every time, every single time without fail, when people start accusing folks of not being queer "enough" and start pointing fingers and vitriol: remember that, sooner or later, when they decide to move the goalposts (as they will eventually), you will be next. first trans people, terf rhetoric. then ace discourse. now this bullshit. i hope that's where we make it end.

im so tired. just... love and support each other, be kind, be understanding, be compassionate, y'all. please. it takes effort and thoughtfulness but it's necessary. we need to stand united and preserve that unity, for ourselves now and for the next generations of queer people in the future. it's worth it.

#abby posts things sometimes #these are filler tags #assuming tumblr still works with the ''only the first five tags count for searches'' thing #i havent made a serious original post in a LONG while #but i am so angry and tired.#discourse #for those of u who don't wanna see that #this isn't directed at anyone in particular im just starting to see a lot of it and i am. so. tired. i am so sad and angry.#ok to reblog but i will not be responding to further additions bc this is first and foremost a personal post #to get the emotions out of my bloodstream #im not looking for a debate of ideas or a debate at all im just so tired.#anyway exclusionists fuck off fuck your exclusionary rhetoric fuck all of your fucking gatekeeping and identity policing we're SICK OF IT

6 notes · View notes

chaos-of-the-abyss · 5 years

Note

How can you like daenerys

Quite a lot of reasons, actually. For the sake of my time, I’ll limit my answer to ten of them.

1. She tolerates disrespect in her own court.

“We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom.” Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face.

Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghae’s teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him.

“Enough,” she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. “No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away.”

How many leaders and rulers in ASOIAF would have tolerated being spat on in their own court? Not many, I’m sure.

2. She’s witty.

“Little girl, another woman once tried to geld me with her teeth. She has no teeth now, but my sword is as long and thick as ever. Shall I take it out and show you?”

“No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.”

3. She’s a creative and resourceful ruler, despite having never received any sort of training, unlike the majority of other leaders.

“Not a hole. A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.”

Ser Barristan remained. “Our stores are ample for the moment,” he reminded her, “and Your Grace has planted beans and grapes and wheat. Your Dothraki have harried the slavers from the hills and struck the shackles from their slaves. They are planting too, and will be bringing their crops to Meereen to market. And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.”

4. One of, if not the most, compassionate ruler in ASOIAF who is determined to take care of her people, despite what her advisors might say.

“Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?”

“You can’t. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.”

Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. “No,” she said. “I will not march my people off to die.” My children.

It was time, though. A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her.

Daenerys considers the people under her rule her children. That says enough about her compassion for others.

5. She’s pragmatic and a great military strategist, again despite having no formal training in these matters.

“Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. “You told the sellswords-”

“-that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai’i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness.”

“They will have scouts watching for us.”

“And in the dark, they will see hundreds of campfires burning,” said Dany. “If they see anything at all.”

“Khaleesi,” said Jhogo, “I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses.”

“Just so,” she agreed. “I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki.” She smiled. “To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?”

The following is describing Daenerys’ conquest of Meereen. Meereen’s walls have no weak points, the Harpies heads can squirt hot oil, and all the trees were burned by the slavers to prevent Daenerys from being able to build weapons. Daenerys doesn’t want to order the Unsullied to assault the wall directly because it would lead to pointless loss of their lives (courtesy of the boiling oil from the Harpies heads). So instead:

“Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not a gate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellswords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes-formerly Joso’s Prank-that had broken the eastern gate."

6. She's willing to and makes an effort to learn, and learn she does.

Dany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. “Five thousand,” she said after a moment.

“A queen must listen to all,” she reminded him. “The highorn, and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.” She had read that in a book.

7. She’s brave. Anyone who has the balls to face a dragon with only a whip is far more courageous than a considerable number of characters. And before anyone says,“the dragons wouldn’t hurt her no matter how angry they get, she’s their mother,” yes they would. Drogon tried to kill her.

His head turned. Smoke rose between his teeth. His blood was smoking too, where it dripped upon the ground. He beat his wings again, sending up a choing storm of scarlet sand. Dany stumbled into the hot red cloud, coughing. He snapped.

“No” was all that she had time to say. No, not me, don’t you know me? The black teeth closed inches from her face. He meant to tear my head off. The sand was in her eyes. She stumbled over the pitmaster’s corpse and fell on her backside.

8. Her idea of what it means to rule is extremely idealistic, even after all the exploitation she’s suffered. By intentions alone Daenerys is already a far better candidate as ruler than most other leaders in the books.

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”

“Some kings make themselves, Robert did.”

“He was no true king,” Dany said scornfully. “He did no justice. Justice... that’s what kings are for.”

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself.

She believes it’s her duty as a queen to protect her people and bring justice. In Dany’s eyes, a queen must put her people first, herself second. You’d think someone who suffered under the hand of her cruel and abusive older brother, who she also considers her king, and then exploited and sold like an animal by him to a barbarian tribe, would make a thirteen-year-old girl quite jaded about rulers. But Daenerys still wholeheartedly believes that rulers should be selfless, protect their people, and bring justice, though the people who had power over her in the past did none of those things for her.

9. She’s intensely self-critical.

That morning she summoned her captains and commanders to the garden, rather than descending to the audience chamber. “Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. I will not march.”

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

If I look back, I am doomed. Dany told herself... but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart, We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

Bless me, Dany thought bitterly. Your city is gone to ash and bone, your people are dying all around you. I have no shelter for you, no medicine, no hope. Only stale bread and wormy meat, hard cheese, a little milk. Bless me, bless me.

Now we must keep in mind that Daenerys’ chapters are told from her POV. They are not objective by any means. The fact that she’s so self-critical in these quotes (and more) does not mean she can never be a good ruler. It’s a human thing to magnify your failures and judge yourself much more harshly than the others around you, and this is well-communicated on Dany’s POV.

Daenerys was trying to change a system that has been in place and served as the economic foundation of Slaver’s Bay for countless years. It’s an extremely radical - even revolutionary - change. There’s not a single character that would have been able to work that situation out smoothly and without bloodshed. Yet Daenerys never takes this into consideration, she simply blames herself.

The fact that she’s so self-deprecating reveals a lot about Daenerys. For one thing, she clearly doesn’t attempt to mentally shift the blame off of herself when things go awry. This means that she’s self-aware and willing to take responsibility for her actions. Being self-critical is also something I can very much relate to, so I empathize with Daenerys here.

10. She freed slaves.

I can already hear the storm of antis crowing that she did an awful job, which is ridiculous and I dare them to do any better. When such a revolutionary change is brought about, there is simply no way it’s going to go smoothly. Like I said before, there isn’t one character in ASOIAF who would have flawlessly handled the situation Dany was in.

The “white savior” argument is also something I find odd, because slavery in ASOIAF is not race-based. Among the slaves Daenerys liberated, there were Lyseni, who are blonde-haired and blue-eyed.

I love the fact that Daenerys, despite being a queen, empathizes with the lowborn. She’s experienced the same things they have - mistreatment, fear, exploitation, to name a few - in a time that she had no say about what happened to her, like them. When she does gain power, she does her best to use it primarily to help others.

“I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

“Enough.” Dany slapped the table. “No one will be left to die. You are all my people.” Her dreams of home and love had blinded her. “I will not abandon Meereen to the fate of Astapor. It grieves me to say so, but Westeros must wait.”

#asoiaf #asks #daenerys targaryen #dany defense squad #daenerys defence squad #daenerys defense squad

606 notes · View notes

blessedarethebinarybreakers · 5 years

Note

Opinion on asexual and aromantic people?

Hi there! It’s about time i reaffirm my stance on ace and aro folks, huh! (And you would think it would take me like two sentences to do so but nah, it’s me you’re talking to so naturally it takes multiple paragraphs)

They/we* belong in the LGBTQA+ community, 100%. The LGBTQA+ community is for anyone who isn’t cisgender and heterosexual and heteromantic, because if you don’t fit into all three of those categories your sexuality and/or gender are marginalized, invisibilized, oppressed. Asexual and aromantic persons have to deal with the heteronormativity and pressure to date and have sex with persons of the opposite assigned binary gender just like so many other members of the LGBTQA+ community do. They too are often made to feel broken or wrong or sinful, and to grow up not knowing others like them exist.

*i consider myself to be somewhere on the ace spectrum! Though it’s not a part of my identity i think about very often these days, discovering the word asexual and immediately realizing i was ace was the first part of my queerness i was able to embrace. finding support and encouragement in the ace community online was hugely important for my queer journey overall :)

________________________

To preemptively respond to one argument sometimes made against ace/aro inclusion: of course there are differences in the experiences of an asexual aromantic person and, say, a bisexual person – but the same goes for a cis bisexual person and a gay trans person, or for a Black queer person and a white queer person. The community will always be diverse, and that’s a wonderful thing, an asset rather than a reason to fracture ourselves! Different members face different forms of oppression with different justifications made for that oppression by our oppressors – it is still in all of our best interests to unite as one LGBTQA+ community. We should stand in solidarity with one another and join in one another’s battles rather than fighting amongst ourselves.

Fighting about whether we should “let” asexuals and aromantics into the community uses up time and energy we could be spending on teaming up to fight oppression. Whenever i read arguments about why asexuals and aromantics don’t belong in the LGBTQA community, i can’t help but be reminded of arguments i have read about why bisexuals, or trans persons, or nonbinary persons, or some other group should not be “allowed in.” And for each of these arguments, i can’t help but wonder how much more progress we could make towards winning justice for all of us if we focused our efforts upon fighting the cisheteronormative, classist, racist, sexist, ableist structures that oppress us.

In chapter 12 of Transgender Warriors (published 1996), communist butch lesbian and transgender activist Leslie Feinberg (1949-2014) discusses how our infighting only serves to benefit our “common enemies,” who depend upon a “divide-and-conquer” tactic to keep us all marginalized. The “enemies” Feinberg identifies are the institutions and individuals who enable any and all forms of bigotry, from homophobia and transphobia and queerphobia to racism and sexism and classism. For Feinberg, all of these forms of bigotry are interwoven; fighting one requires fighting all of them (think of the slogan “none of us are free until all of us are free”).

In that text Feinberg is primarily talking about the divide between the LGB and the T, but i believe that what zie says about those divisions can be applied to infighting between gay and bi persons, or between binary and nonbinary trans persons, or between asexual/aromantic and allo-sexual/romantic persons, and so on. And i believe that Feinberg would not be opposed to expanding the conversation in this way, because zie hirself affirms asexuality in hir discussion of the many sexualities to be found in the trans community: “we are heterosexual, bisexual, lesbian, gay, and asexual” (p. 98).

What Feinberg wrote back in 1996 about being both transgender and a lesbian really resonates with me as a person who is likewise both transgender and sapphic; but also with me as a person who is asexual and sapphic:

“I view the trans population as a broad circle and the lesbian, gay, and bisexual communities as another large circle. These two circles partially overlap. I am one of the people who has a foot in each of these communities, and, like a person with a foot in one of each of two rowboats, I have a deep personal hope that they don’t move in opposite directions. I hope that those of us who do overlap can serve as bridges, because I think our communities are natural allies and all our strengths are magnified by solidarity” (p. 98).

To use Feinberg’s metaphor, I find myself playing an awkward game of Twister in which i have one foot in the “trans” rowboat and another in the “LGB” one like zie did – and, when asexuality is forced into a rowboat separate from the LGB one, i also have to stretch a hand over to that boat too and just hope i don’t collapse into the waves.

In hir hope that the trans rowboat and LGB rowboat would not “move in opposite directions,” Feinberg spoke in favor of the “lasting coalition” that we call the LGBTQ community. Feinberg saw that attempts to kindle transphobia amongst cis LGB persons, and homophobia among trans persons (as well as racism in white LGBT persons or sexism in male LGBT persons, etc.), are all “an attempt to drive a dangerous wedge between potential allies.” Any attempt to kindle anti-asexual and anti-aromantic sentiments among other members of the LGBTQA+ community is also a dangerous wedge, fracturing us when we are stronger when united.

Feinberg closes hir chapter on solidarity by stating that “people who don’t experience a common oppression can make history when they unite to fight a common enemy” (99). The experiences of LGBTQA+ persons are as numerous as we ourselves are; and the shades of oppression we face vary. The solution to this diversity is not to try to kick out all the members who don’t experience the same exact things “i” do but instead to learn from each other and use our diverse perspectives to fight our common enemies together.

_____________

To close this post because i just remembered i’m a Christian blog haha, along with believing that asexual and aromantic persons belong in the LGBTQA+ community, i believe that God loves and affirms them just as they are. Asexuality and aromanticism are part of the incredible diversity God wove into the world. See my #asexuality tag, which has posts like this one, as well as my #aromanticism tag, for more on that.

#blog stuff #avery speaking #Anonymous #asexuality #aromanticism #asexuality tag #essays #transgender warriors #leslie feinberg #aromanticism tag

55 notes · View notes

wftc141 · 5 years

Text

Blackwatch Chapter 3: DedPersons

9:11 AM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

June, 2018

"Grazie." Amélie said as she took the hot cup of coffee from the young cashier.

She simply returned a warm smile before turning back to the long queue. Amélie turned away and headed for the door where Gabriel was waiting for her, leaning against the door frame with a cup of coffee as well. The cafe was quite bustling and full, especially during the morning. A lot of customers were either doing errands or getting themselves the newest arrival on the board. Once Amélie walked past Gabriel, he turned away and followed her out onto the crowded plaza.

"As I was saying," Gabriel started, continuing his earlier conversation. "I think we might be going back to Zambia."

"What makes you think that?" Amélie asked.

"The fact that the NSA scooped up some footage of a new leader taking over the Macaba militia camp. They don't know who it is but they believe it's someone from the Macaba family."

"How many relatives do you think he has?"

"Probably enough to run an army."

No words were spoken between them afterwards. Gabriel stared out at the glint of the scorching sun from a distance with his sunglasses reflecting the blinding light off. His frown, surrounded by the goatee, remained plastered on his face and he tugged the collar of his shirt sticking to his skin.

"What's with the long face?" Amélie asked, grabbing Gabriel's attention.

"What'd you mean?" He replied as he sipped his coffee.

"You look like somebody slapped you really hard."

"Isn't this how I normally look?"

"Gabe, you and I have been together since the first day Blackwatch was activated. I already know what you look like by now."

Gabriel sighed while tapping the cup with his fingers. He stared at what's in front of him without glancing at Amélie. His other hand slid into his pocket.

"I just found out my kids are about to graduate yesterday and when I asked Jackie if I could come, she wouldn't let me. Doesn't want me involved in their lives anymore. Guess that's what happens when I'm a dedicated soldier with no time for family."

"You two still haven't worked things out?" She asked.

"Sadly, no."

"C'est une honte. What about your kids?"

"We're still on good terms but my daughter still doesn't approve of the war and she probably hates my guts for it."

"Would you really blame them? Not everybody is into killing." Amélie said, adjusting her sunglasses.

Gabriel scoffed. "Says the woman who once murdered rich people and performed ballet as if nothing ever happened."

Amélie ignored him and took a sip of the coffee as they walked out of the plaza and into the street. As they stopped by a crossing light, Gabriel took out his phone from his pockets which buzzed in his hand. He answered it and lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was a brief pause, attracting Amélie's curiosity despite voices around them drowning each other out. Gabriel nodded shortly with his eyes flicking downwards.

"Alright. We'll be there."

The call finished and Gabriel lowered his phone. Amélie stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"Well, this is a surprise." He said, slipping the phone back into his pockets.

"Mission?" Amélie asked.

"Maybe. Sombra's in Virginia with the CIA and she needs us there tomorrow afternoon sharp."

Next Day

3:21 PM, Local Time

McLean, USA

George Bush Center for Intelligence

The team arrived at the headquarters after a long flight to McLean. As they entered inside, they were immediately greeted by the sight of Sombra reclining on one of the couches nearby. Several other people at the very back filed in back and forth across the reception area where the large CIA seal was plastered on. Once her eyes locked onto the team, she got off the couch and approached them.

"About time, amigos. You guys are really slow, ya know?" She said.

"Get straight to the point, Sombra. What's going on?" Gabriel replied.

"Blackwatch." A voice called out, attracting the team's attention.

They turned towards the source of the voice and noticed Salvatore approaching them. He wasn't alone however as there was a woman walking beside him. Blonde Hispanic with hair tied into a bun and a grey suit. Possibly in her forties.

"Glad you were able to make it, Reyes," he said before gesturing towards the woman. "Allow me to introduce you all to Mrs Alexis Morales, Director of the National Clandestine Service. Mrs Morales, this is the Blackwatch unit I was telling you about."

"I see," the director hummed as she glanced across the team. "Pleasure to meet you all. If you would just follow me to the debriefing."

She turned away and walked off towards the corridor on the right. Salvatore nodded towards them, prompting the team to follow her. Once they arrived at the conference room, they sat down facing the projector in front of them. Morales and Sombra stood beside it while Salvatore watched from the side.

"I would like all of you to open up the folders placed in front of you and read all of the contents thoroughly." Morales ordered.

The team picked up the folders and read through the documents in silence. Morales then started up the projector, presenting a PowerPoint on their mission.

"Last week, the CIA was hit by a DDoS attack for two hours and by the time the servers were back online, the data inside vanished. Thanks to the efforts of Sombra, we have discovered that the attack came from a group of hackers via a digital trail they left behind."

"You know, I actually found it funny that you guys were able to miss that one tiny detail. I mean, come on! Was that so hard to find? I thought your analysts were meant to be the brains of the agency." Sombra said.

"As Mrs. Morales was saying," Salvatore continued, ignoring the red-haired hacker. "Based on the emails Sombra intercepted, the hackers were hired by a communist mafia who call themselves the People's Republic of Romania."

"So, a communist mafia. That's new." Marvel commented.

"These men are loyal to the ideas of communism. Formed during the Cold War, they were known for many crimes of the states, mainly in countries that don't support their views. Money laundering, arms trafficking, murder, counterfeiting, anything that falls under the category of organized crime."

"What'd they steal?" Ray asked.

"Oh, you know. Just a buncha names and secret stuff that could be used against the government, the same old." Sombra answered.

"And it's best that we retrieve the data back and if possible, eliminate the mafia by all means. We cannot risk retaliation or worse, a conflict. The digital trail Sombra found led us to a ranch in Bennington, Vermont where satellite footage has reported sightings of what appeared to be the mafia taking over the ranch along with the hackers. We are safe to assume this is where the data would be at."

"Me, McCree and Sombra can take this one." Gabriel said.

"What do we do about the hackers?" Sombra glanced at the leader.

"Unless they try to shoot back, they aren't our main priority."

5:47 PM, Local Time

Bennington, USA

After touching down at the William H. Morse Airport, Gabriel and his group got off the plane where several agents were posted nearby. They made their way to a black Tahoe parked near the entrance gate where a pair of agents were. McCree took the driver's seat while the rest took the passenger seats. Starting the engine, McCree drove themselves past the gate and out to the narrow road.

As the drive progressed to the highway, Gabriel looked at the rear mirror and caught sight of Sombra at the back with purple headphones on and a phone on her right hand resting on her lap. God knows what she's listening to but it wasn't much of his concern and interest. He looked away and stared out of the window. The drab autumn trees tossed lightly, obscuring the sky while dark, ragged clouds close in. There was a report of wet weather on its way so the group brought in some jackets to keep them dry.

Few minutes later and they arrived at the road leading to the ranch. The entrance's gate was completely loose with its support wedged out of the terrain. Parking the Tahoe by the gate, the group hopped out with their weapons and backpacks and delved into the bushy forest next to the gate. Gabriel put on his ski mask partially like a beanie.

As they navigated through the forest, the leaves began to rustle and the shadows closed in completely. The sky by now was completely concealed by the clouds. The team stopped once they got close to the end of the forest where a fence was placed, leaving out the forest.

"Sombra, get your drone up."

Without a word, she went with it and took out her recon drone with an installed camera. After getting it airborne, she used her tablet to control the drone. Gabriel pulled out his binoculars from his backpack and scouted the ranch. There were fewer gangsters around the ranch than he had anticipated. The main entrance of the ranch was guarded by two armed men under a portable gazebo along with a white car parked near them.

"How many inside the house?" Gabriel asked.

"That's strange," Sombra muttered. "There's only like five guys and that's not including the hackers. Thought there was gonna be more."

"Maybe we're just overestimating 'em." McCree said.

"My guess as well." Gabriel replied.

Sombra glanced at the team leader while controlling the drone. "So how do you wanna pull this off?"

"If it follows the term 'stealth', then that's how we'll do it," Gabriel tossed his binoculars into his bag and pulled his mask on. "Lets go."

Once Sombra retrieved her drone, she held the custom MP7 slung around her shoulder and followed Gabriel and McCree out of the forest and over the fence. The lawn outside the ranch was overgrown with its grass rustling and waving to the breeze; It was long enough for the team to hide behind the foliage undetected. As Gabriel led the team towards the ranch, McCree and Sombra were at his rear checking back at the two men at the entrance.

The team reached the curved walkway, closing in on the house that stood in front of them. The dark brown paint and some of the wooden aspects of the two-floor house definitely stood out with the autumn forest around it. They can see the calm river behind the house as well.

As Gabriel approached the side of the house while crouching, he noticed a drip of water bounce off the rail of the rifle before continuous drips of water skimmed upon his body in a stable rhythm. Gabriel did his best to ignore it and pulled the hood over his head. By the time they reached the side, the rain was pouring on like wildfire. McCree and Sombra both pulled on their hoods from the oncoming rain.

Gabriel advanced towards the porch, walking up the stairs while aiming his rifle with the others following him and covering their rear. There, the team were shielded from the downpour with water dripping off the edges of the roof. They can hear the fierceness of the rain from the noisy impact from the roof.

"So, five hostiles inside, Sombra?" Gabriel whispered as he approached the door.

"Yep," She nodded. "Three upstairs and two downstairs."

Gabriel clasped his free hand over the doorknob. Turning it over, the lock clicked and the door slowly moved. Gabriel slowly pushed the door open with his right shoulder without bumping it hard and peeked through the narrow gap. Through the gap, he could see a defect washing machine stacked against the wall. There was no sign of anybody from what he could see. Gabriel pushed the door further and made his first step onto the wooden floor.

Once the door swung open, Gabriel made his move first while scanning the area with his rifle. Sombra was the last to enter and closed the door softly, shutting out the hailing rain outside. Gabriel glanced around as he headed out of the room and into the corridor, leading to what appeared to be a dining room.

He stopped once he reached the end and peered to his right where he noticed a stout man sporting a work shirt in the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge. Gabriel stepped back and held out his right hand curled into a fist while holding the foregrip tightly. Sombra and McCree stopped but still held their weapons. The man called out to someone in Romanian with whoever it was responding back.

Gabriel checked up on the man who closed the fridge door and walked back towards the living room with a beer can. Gabriel moved forward in a fast pace and aimed his rifle for the head, flicking the safety pin off. He had no reason to doubt whether that guy was one of the mobsters or not. Pulling the trigger, the suppressor flashed and the man fell in an instant with two bloody holes on the back of his head, tumbling over a chair. A loud hiss coming from the fallen can rang across the room.

"One down." Gabriel muttered, flicking the safety back on.

As he went around the table to check on the body, he heard the voice from the other room call out in concern. Gabriel jumped over to the right side of the arch and aimed his rifle at the corridor next to the living room, safety off again. Shortly, a slightly skinnier man in a worn sweater emerged from the corridor with a pistol in hand. Just as he noticed the body, Gabriel fired several rounds to the gangster's chest before he fell back.

"That's the second one down."

Sombra and McCree walked past him as he checked the fat mobster he meant to look at. After making sure both of them were dead, Gabriel caught up with Sombra and McCree where they were by the stairs. Patting McCree's shoulder, he advanced up the stairwell with McCree taking the lead. Once they reached the upper floor, they found themselves facing a door with a narrow corridor to their left, leading elsewhere. The lights were off, leaving nothing but shuttered shadows with drips sliding down.

Gabriel approached the door, closed and silent. A room with a closed door is more likely to be occupied by hostiles, which was something Jack Morrison taught back in the day. He still remembered how much he tried to one-up the Sergeant during their early years when he was still a Private searching for the thrills.

Gabriel stood next to the door and waved at Sombra and McCree, prompting them to stack up next to it. Once they were ready, Gabriel stepped in front of the door and kicked it open, boot making contact near the doorknob. As the door flung open, Gabriel stormed into the room. He noticed several people facing the computer monitors spin around, startled. His left eye caught sight of a gangster reaching for his gun on the table. Gabriel aimed and fired several rounds to his body. He fell onto the table forcibly before sliding off. Several suppressed shots were fired and more bodies landed on the floor.

"Room clear!" McCree barked.

Gabriel aimed his rifle at the hackers, still stuck to their seats. All of them had their hands up, keeping their backs towards them. They looked young and dressed in clothes young people would wear.

"Stay right where you are." Gabriel ordered.

The hackers remained frozen, probably already got the message. As his breathing kept a steady pace, Gabriel began to step away from them while keeping his aim at them.

"Sombra, get the data and everything they stole into this drive." Gabriel took out a hard drive from his pocket for Sombra.

"Got it, jefe." She replied, taking the hard drive and approaching one of the server racks nearby with a laptop on it.

"McCree, go outside and keep watch."

"Yessir."

McCree quickly left the room but left the door open. Sombra plugged in the hard drive into the laptop and began to make that computer magic. As she tapped into the network, one of the hackers began to turn around while still keeping his hands up. His hair was light blonde and a necklace hung in front of his maroon hoodie. Gabriel didn't bother to order him to turn back, unless he was armed.

"Wait a minute," he muttered with a Polish accent. "Y-you're Sombra? The actual Sombra?"

She turned around and pulled the hood off, letting her hair loose. "Who's asking?"

The hacker and the others exchanged glances of surprise, gasping and chatting amongst each other. Gabriel still kept his aim at them.

"Niesamowite! I can't believe it! You're a legend in the hacking industry!" The Polish hacker exclaimed.

"Aww, it's nice to know I have some fans," Sombra replied, turning away. "I heard about you guys too and how you managed to break into the servers with a DDoS attack. Took some bolas for you boys to rob the CIA."

"Wait, wait? The CIA?" The Polish hacker repeated.

Sombra wasn't too surprised since one of the emails she retrieved indicated that none of them knew who they were actually robbing.

"Oh? They didn't tell you?"

"N-No," he replied. "We were just told to steal some stuff from a rival mob and that was it."

"They were gonna pay us half the money we stole from the mob once we finished." Another hacker with a Finnish accent added.

Sombra hummed in a doubtful manner. "Take it from me, guys. Gangbangers nowadays don't play ball when it comes to money."

Gabriel wasn't into the conversation of any way. This was a mission, not a get-along group.

"How's the progress, Sombra?" He growled, glancing at her.

She tapped a key, displaying a loading bar on the screen and turned to Gabriel. "Gonna take a while, jefe."

"Reaper, you might wanna see this." McCree called out from outside.

Gabriel went out of the room and noticed McCree watching the window at the corridor. He was staring outside with his free hand holding the curtains aside.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Some of our Romanian buddies are back." McCree said, moving away for the leader.

Gabriel pushed the curtains away and glanced out the window overlooking the front yard. Two SUVs and the white car from the entrance were closing in on the house. Gabriel had a gut feeling that these guys now knew they weren't expecting visitors.

"Shit, they must've discovered our car." He muttered as the vehicles stopped and the doors opened.

"What do we do, boss?" McCree asked.

The front door opened and voices filled the floor from below. They heard footsteps advancing up the stairs. Gabriel got his rifle ready and aimed at the stairs while approaching it. McCree followed suit. Just as he reached the start of the stairs, Gabriel immediately caught contact of a large, bald man with a pistol in his right hand heading towards their direction. Gabriel opened fire first with three rounds to his chest. The pistol went off, hitting the ceiling as the gangster tumbled back down and slammed against a rail.

As voices began to escalate over the sounds of the hailing rain, Gabriel and McCree went down the stairs and got a glimpse of another gangster appearing from a room near the front door. Gabriel quickly put him down before he could raise his own gun. He approached the living room to his right, only for two gangsters to come into his way.

They both opened fire while backing up. Gabriel ducked below oncoming bullets while still aiming his rifle. The skinny gangster he was aiming for was really bad at aiming or even holding it properly, therefore allowing several rounds hit his body while the rest penetrated the slider doors. The other one was out of sight. Gabriel heard several suppressed shots from the other side as he entered the living room.

He turned to the kitchen where he found the rest of the gangsters holed up together. Gabriel counted three gangsters before taking cover from suppressive fire. He switched the rifle to his left hand and fired back without peeking over. The gunfire slightly ceased, prompting Gabriel to grab a stun grenade under his jacket. With a hard toss, he listened to the grenade bounce and slide on the wood before a deafening bang erupted.

When the groans and shrieks followed up, Gabriel moved out of cover and raised his rifle, taking out the two gangsters who moved away from the kitchen before approaching the last one. As he moved towards the counter, Gabriel noticed a gangster hiding behind the table too late before he made his attack.

They both shuffled and struggled as the gangster's hands gripped over Gabriel's rifle with the discharge hitting elsewhere being unhelpful. Gabriel kicked his leg with little effect. The gangster pushed Gabriel against the wall, knocking off something hanging on the wall. Just as Gabriel felt a fist slam across his face, his rifle was yanked off his grip. His left hand balled into a fist and it felt as if he had no control of the hand.

As soon as let his hand loose, it flung at the gangster's side and Gabriel let it continue until his muscles gave up. He lifted his fist and sent it flying to the gangster's face, hitting his jaw. With the gangster dazed, Gabriel punched the arms holding him, breaking himself free. He noticed the gangster's pistol tucked in front of his pants and pulled it out before he could. Without hesitation, Gabriel fired two shots to the chest and a final blow to the head.

As the gangster fell onto the chair, tumbling down with it, Gabriel scanned the rest of the room with the pistol. After making one last sweep and confirming the house was empty, Gabriel lowered the gun to take a look. A Mauser C96. Very old fashioned. Dropping the gun, Gabriel reached for his rifle and patched in.

"Main house is clear. Shadow 3, what's your status?" He said, holding his fingers on the earpiece.

"Clear on my position!" McCree huffed, sounding like he had a massive firefight outside.

Gabriel then ordered him to head back inside and went upstairs. He walked up to the door which was shut. Sombra would be at her defensive position at this point.

"This is Shadow 1, hold your fire." He called out.

The door suddenly opened and Sombra appeared in his view, holding her MP7. Gabriel walked inside where the hackers were still there. Shaken but fine overall.

"Is it done?" Gabriel asked.

"Yep," Sombra replied, holding up the hard drive. "Everything they stole is in here."

Gabriel nodded, ignoring the hackers. "Alright, lets go."

"What about them?"

He stopped and turned around where Sombra was facing. The hackers were still there. They may be tricked into stealing from the world's well known agency but their crimes can't go unpunished. Unless they were willing to accept. The CIA or Salvatore could give zero shits if he puts them down or not but they were lucky he wasn't given that order. Gabriel approached them and aimed his rifle at them, startling the hackers and prompting them to raise their hands.

"Jefe, what the hell are you doing?" Sombra called out.

He ignored her and remained fixated at those young men, aiming across them with a sight focused on each of them. For the next few seconds, it was silent except with the frantic breathing.

"You do know the rifle's safety is on?" Gabriel said, still aiming his rifle. "That means I can't shoot anything out of it unless I flick it off. And you know what happens when it's off?"

No response.

"R-Reaper, we got what we came for. You don't have to-" Sombra tried to say.

"I can kill all of you right here, right now. In fact, I wouldn't be here to waste my time talking to you kids. I can just pull the trigger and get this over with...but you're lucky I don't have the order."

Gabriel moved slowly towards the Polish hacker and held his glare at him.

"What you've done and how you did it can't be left ignored. And I don't give two shits if you were hired by the mafia or whoever that was. You pay for the price, no matter the circumstance. But I'm not in the mood of taking a life of another man so I can tell you this and you better listen closely cause I won't repeat myself."

The Polish hacker was on the verge of breaking down, trembling non-stop. Gabriel glanced at the rest of the hackers. He already had their names way back at Virginia from the leaked trail.

"Daniel. Antero. Miles. Noah. Roman. You leave this house and you don't speak of this ever again. I don't care how, just as long as you're outta here. And don't try anything stupid on the way out cause we will be watching you. But if I hear another mention of any of your names, we will hunt you down and once I find you...this safety won't be on. Do I make myself clear?"

The whole room was dead silent with fear. Roman was already petrified with the barrel of the rifle pressed against his chest as well as the others. Everybody nodded frantically.

"SAY IT." Gabriel barked.

The hackers all said 'yes' hastily and between squeaks and mumbling. Gabriel sighed and lifted his rifle away from Roman.

"Good," he began to dig into his pockets and took out the keys to their car. "The car's at the front entrance down the forest. Black Chevrolet. Take this and get outta here. No smart moves, got it?"

All of them nodded beyond normal and Gabriel handed the keys to Roman. As soon as the keys were off his hand, the hackers began to gather their things with the backpacks and they dashed out of the room. He turned around where Sombra was standing outside, bewildered and surprised. Gabriel got out the SAT phone and dialed the number.

"Jesus, Reaper," She muttered. "Was this part of your Scaring Kids to Death initiative or something?"

"It's done," Gabriel said, ignoring Sombra. "The data is in the drive."

There was a pause before Gabriel nodded and finished up the call. He slipped the phone into his pockets and went down the stairs.

"We're leaving. The cops are already on their way," he tapped the earpiece. "McCree, find a car that is still running because we'll be using it."

"Got it."

As Gabriel and Sombra left the house, they walked off the porch to the sight of bodies scattered and sprawled around the field with bullet-ridden cars left behind, smoke rising from the front. A white SUV backed up to where Gabriel and Sombra was and turned to the side with McCree driving. The two stored their equipment and backpacks in the boot and got in, staining the seats with soaked clothed. Just as they did so, the car sped off and drove around the dumped cars before reaching the front gate, hearing nothing but the raging downpour.

#blackwatch #overwatch #overwatch blackwatch #fanfiction #black ops au #fanfictions #fanfics #fanfic #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my fanfictions #my fanfics #wftc141's fanfic #wftc141's fanfiction #wftc141's fanfics #wftc141's fanfictions

5 notes · View notes

a-woman-apart · 5 years

Text

Don’t Go Alone

I’ve been thinking about Ecclesiastes recently. Yes, the “Vanities of vanities, all is vanity” and “there is nothing new under the sun” Ecclesiastes. Pretty much the most nihilistic book in the entire Bible, even though it tries to redeem itself in the end by saying that obeying God and keeping His commandments is “the entire duty of man.”

There are a lot of interesting concepts presented in the book, though. I will go ahead and quote some passages here from the 4th chapter (emphasis added by me).

Then I returned, and I saw vanity under the sun:

There is one alone, without companion: He has neither son nor brother. Yet there is no end to all his labors, nor is his eye satisfied with riches. But he never asks, "For whom do I toil and deprive myself of good?" This also is vanity and a grave misfortune.

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up. Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm; But how can one be warm alone? Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken. (Ecclesiastes 4:7-12)

While it is true that you remain the person primarily responsible for your own life, that self-love is important, and that when it comes down to the quality of your life, your choices matter the most, there is a reason why human beings have a general tendency towards forming groups. Human babies who were deprived of human touch can experience poor health outcomes and even death. Even if many of us need far less interaction than others (i.e. introverts), we still need to bond and connect with other human beings on some level.

We live in a highly individualistic society that is ruled by capitalism. Profit—and by extension, individual productivity—is prized above all else. This fosters a spirit of unhealthy competition that can often drive a wedge between us and our peers. Our worth is based on our physical, academic, or corporate achievement. We are expected to sacrifice our health, time, and current desires in order to one day earn the right to lead our own lives. This right—known for many years as “retirement”— has grown further and further out of reach for most Americans. This isn’t that one bicycle-riding-electricity-generating episode of Black Mirror, but sometimes it really feels like it.

What I am starting to realize, is that without a sense of togetherness and belonging—regardless of whether it is experienced in a small community or a big one— life quickly begins to lose its luster. It’s great to keep yourself as no. 1, but in the end, we all need to depend on others for support. It doesn’t matter if that support is financial, emotional, or physical.

Also, let’s talk about the Happiness dilemma. It feels like the more your try to pursue things that make you happy, the more elusive happiness becomes. Mark Manson discusses this at length in “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck”. He came to the conclusion that Happiness is not something that you “arrive” at through achievement or by acquiring a predetermined number of things or a specific assortment of relationships, but rather happiness is in the small moments. You feel happy when you are having ice cream with your kids, feel the wind on your face in autumn, or you’re allowed to leave work early. It isn’t a destination that can be reached through pure effort. It comes effortlessly. You just have to enjoy it while it is there and then be prepared to move on from it. It is temporary and fleeting, but it is tangible. You know it when you feel it.

Learning to recognize and embrace the joy in small moments helps make the long stretches of sadness and mediocrity more bearable. When I look back at my own life, I see how many of those moments were shared with other people. I remember my brothers and I making dumb jokes out of serious movie quotes, playing video games with my sisters, family movie nights, etc. My childhood was far from ideal, but, if I look back there are still joyful things to remember. There are highlights. Getting my first drivers’ license, passing the GED, and so on; these were things that would’ve been much harder without the support of my parents.

We live in an imperfect world with imperfect people. Until we can learn to accept the imperfections in others—and in ourselves—we may find ourselves feeling incredibly isolated from other people.

Even as I emphasize the importance of human relationships, I am aware that throughout history there have been those who have sought to isolate themselves for others for religious or spiritual reasons. Even many of these people, however, still interacted with other humans on some level. In fact, I would almost venture to say that the stereotypical view of hermits who stayed in caves and did not interact with anyone else for the remainder of their lives, is somewhat of a mythological concept. Even the most strictly disciplined monks and nuns of varying religions still form groups or look to the outside world for support. Their stories demonstrate to us that even when we are deprived of most of the material pleasures of life, we can still find meaning through sharing a spiritual practice with others.

As an atheist—who is also wrestling with whether or not to have a spiritual practice—I have found myself feeling incredibly othered by my peers. While around 22.8% of the U.S. is “religiously unaffiliated”, only 3% of that group call themselves atheists, with another 4% claiming agnosticism. The world as a whole is only 16% “nones” (religiously non-affiliated) with an unknown—but lower—number being full atheists (Stats from “Irreligion in the United States” and “Demographics of Atheism” on Wikipedia). I am already in a very small minority, but it is further complicated by the fact that my atheism still involves some belief in unseen forces (e.g. chi or some other inexplicable life-giving force in the universe).

My saving grace is being able to absorb some atheist content on YouTube, talking to atheist and agnostic friends and family members, and the increasing openness of [some] religious people to at least consider the concept of a world without God. Sadly, though, I haven’t been able to find a community as wide as the community I had when I was an actively practicing Evangelical Christian. I am, however, learning to compromise and practice gratitude for the equally strong—albeit smaller—community that I have now. I have people in my life who love, accept, and support me, and every single one of them matters to me.

A lot of people find their community online. There are people in fandom communities, online gaming communities, etc., who have found lifelong friends and even spouses by participating in online communities. Hell, I found some of my closest friends—two of whom I am still in touch with—on sites like Fanfiction.net, Fictionpess.com, and Gaia Online. Yes, it was years ago, and yes, those sites aren’t what they used to be, but without those friends I would not have made it through my teenage years.

Your communities can form around literally anything—games, knitting, quilting, coffee, whatever. You just need to go out there and find your tribe. You may even have an online tribe already, and while there is no substitute for face-to-face conversation, your tribe is valid.

Anything that gets you outside of yourself—as long as it isn’t hurting anyone—is good. While having people physically near you is ideal, sometimes just having them be a part of your day remotely is a big help. My best friend and I live thousands of miles apart, but something as simple as being able to text him a screenshot of something I think is funny or rolling my eyes when he sends another YouTube video to me in the middle of the day, really makes my day much easier. Same goes for going with my family’s group chat; we post some pretty cringey memes on there and it’s life.

Look into yourself and see how you feel when you’re participating with others. If you’re happy, that’s good. If there’s another emotion going on there, it may be something to look at. You may not be receiving the support you really need.

P.S. If you’re tired of living alone, but you don’t know anyone who you can move with, there are still options for you. Lots of millennials have been moving into rooms that are rented out by older homeowners, and while this sounds like a net loss, the relationships that form in these kinds of situations can be beneficial. The millennial has an affordable place to live and someone to share meals with, and the senior has someone to help with chores and keep them company.

Also, more and more cohousing communities are popping up throughout the country. They allow families to live together in a close-knit community. There are also other communal living situations in which one rather large home is rented out room by room. Each person has their own bedroom and shares bathrooms with a limited number of fellow housemates, but the living areas and kitchen are shared by everyone. These “non-college dorms” allow people to support each other socially and financially and live together affordably.

Of course, safety first! Do your due diligence and make sure that the place you are moving to is safe and that your rights are being respected.

Happy hunting!

#loneliness #building a community #fighting loneliness #the importance of human connection #individualistic society #getting to know people #finding your tribe #dealing with isolation #moving outside your comfort zone #living with other people #cohousing #communal living #capitalism #anti-capitalist #Living with Depression #online communities #AngieSpeaks

1 note · View note

thataspdfeel · 5 years

Note

what do you think abt aspd/bpd or aspd/empath relationships? any thoughts or experiences?

ok so alex and i have talked about my disorders and we’re pretty sure i have bpd and a conduct disorder as opposed to aspd like i was diagnosed. i’ve been debating about if i should continue this blog since i don’t necessarily have full-blown aspd myself but just the conduct disorder. but there isn’t really anybody on tumblr other than alex i’d trust with this blog because there are way too many Edgelord Pure Psychopath™ people floating around. y’all can draw blog names out of a hat and probably find one, frankly

that said, my wife is an empath and it’s absolutely debilitating for them. it’s kind of refreshing for them to be around me, someone who has no empathy because they’ll describe a problem or situation they’re having socially and i’ll respond in my usual way (fuck that guy, he’s a dick; i’m going to steal her kneecaps; why is that bothering you exactly?) and they’ll realize when they’ve been treated poorly versus when they’re overreacting to things and when they needs to disengage. instead of trying to process their emotions like somebody else with empathy and then “respond accordingly” ie filter it in a way i think would be best for them, they can tell from my blunt responses what the truth is by seeing the middle between their reaction and mine

alternatively, i’ll be bothered by something but not care enough to say or feel it’s not important and they’ll be able to tell and tease it out of me. i’ll also encounter a situation where i’m PRETTY SURE someone is treating me poorly, but won’t be sure due to autism or a slew of other issues, run it by them and they’ll be able to confirm or deny. or i’ll be having a tense situation with somebody, they’ll sense our emotions, see both sides, and mediate effectively. that tends to be more exhausting for them but like it’s a huge boon for the other people involved

this is a double-edged sword, however. i have SO MUCH TROUBLE filtering things to sound non antagonistic just because i’m very blunt about how i feel. i’ve been slowly working towards saying things like “i feel neglected lately so maybe we should spend some time together” rather than “i feel neglected when you don’t spend time with me” which places the blame on them for my own feelings “you need to spend more time with me” which doesn’t explain how i feel but commands a solution that, to my wife, feels like i’m just rudely demanding something of them

this has led to a LOT of fights especially recently after i moved in with them. part of it is indeed my own inability to communicate in a “polite” manner (which i’m working on with my therapist!) but part of it is their empath sensitivity feeling like i’m purposely attacking them whenever i try to bring up an issue. it’s a complex problem but because my wife can’t turn their empathy/sensitivity off, it’s up to me to make sure i’m communicating as effectively as possible in order to minimize conflict with each other and maximize effort towards a solution

so like, as far as my own experiences go, it’s both good and bad like most other things. if i’m not careful, i can be not just toxic but outright abusive if i’m not curtailing my own blutness and words. in turn, my wife can easily miscontrue how i feel and drive a wedge in our relationship. if we’re not very careful with how we interact with each other, our relationship can turn into a toxic waste dump of nuclear power

so far though, we’re both hyper aware of this as we’ve both been in abusive relationships. i myself have been both victim and abuser so i’m especially aware of how easily i can turn into something i don’t like. but we’ve known each other for almost 10 years now, and been together romantically for somewhere in the vicinity of almost half that. we’ve grown apart then back together again over the years. we’re imperfect individuals but our love has kept us going, cheesy as that sounds, it’s very much true

anyway, i hope that answered your question! i feel that, overall, that these relationships can be the most wonderful, fulfilling things you could ever experience or the exact opposite. it all depends on the personalities of the people involved as well as how self aware they are and willing to work to be better people

#mod vann #long post #sorry about that i can finally answer things with ease so i'm doing my best to catch up #Anonymous #anon #vannswers #vann speaks #thataspdfeel

14 notes · View notes

dracusfyre · 6 years

Text

Square K3: Abberant Outcomes

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Rape/Non-Con

Relationship: Tony/Bucky

Tags: Steve and Bucky are Not Friends; no actual rape but definitely non-consensual activity, Bucky Barnes’s Trigger Words

For @tonystarkbingo Square K3: Non-Con

Summary: James inadvertently followed Captain Rogers into the jaws of a trap and has his own body turned against him. This is a continuation of the Operant Conditioning series, which starts with Positive Reinforcement and Rewards for Good Behavior, but can be read as a standalone.

After hours of waiting, hidden from sight by the digital camouflage screen Tony had given him, James finally heard the rumbling arrival of the personnel carrier, only a few minutes off from the arrival time that Tony had predicted.

“We’re a go,” he said almost voicelessly to Tony, who was listening in to the operation through the communicator in James’ ear. He crawled backwards from the road and started to lope towards the base, intercepting the truck as it slowed down to navigate the barricades leading into the entrance of the base. He dug his metal hand into the underside of the truck and braced himself in the chassis, holding himself stiffy away from the axle until the truck finally came to a stop. The truck shook as the men climbed out and as he watched their feet hit the gravel, James frowned as one set of boots didn’t match the rest.

“Where are we?” A familiar voice said, suspicion clear in his voice as he slammed the door to the cab of the truck.

“You know we can’t tell you that, Cap. But we’re not going to get anywhere without a little bit of trust, are we?” ‘Cap’ grunted but didn’t argue as he followed the speaker, gravel crunching under boots. James risked a glance sideways from under the truck and sure enough, there was a distinctive metal target on Cap’s back as he went inside the facility.

“We’ve got a problem,” James said over the comms as soon as everyone was out of earshot. “Captain Rogers is here.”

beware the read more

“Really?” James could hear Tony’s frown in his voice. “Kind of slumming it, isn’t he?”

“Enemy of my enemy?” James rolled out from under the truck, stepping carefully on the noisy gravel, and took a look around the base. He spotted two guards per tower, moonlight glinting off nightvision goggles, and quickly moved around to the other side of the truck.

“Yeah, I guess. Must be pretty desperate. Be careful,” Tony warned. “I don’t like this, something feels off.”

James took a moment in the dark shadows of the personnel carrier to consider his captain’s warning. Behind him, the vehicle’s engine was still ticking and giving off heat; far away, he could hear the footsteps and hushed discussions of the men that had climbed out of the vehicle but couldn’t distinguish Rogers’ voice from the rest. This was supposed to be a recon mission – discover the alignment of the facility Tony had discovered in the barren wilds of the Arizona desert and report back. Rogers’ presence made the mission far more risky, but also more valuable. “If we disengage now, they may move somewhere else,” he said finally. “We need to know why Rogers is here.”

There was a long exhale over the comms and Tony finally said, “You’re right. Fine. Do what you do best, Terminator.”

“Roger that. Comms going dark.”

“Yep. If I don’t hear from you in six hours, there’s going to be a loud and flashy exfiltration whether you are finished or not, got it?”

“Understood.” James powered down the comms and took the battery out to avoid being picked up by any counterintel measures Hydra had around the base. He checked the placement and ease of access for all of the weapons he was carrying and combat crouched to the next piece of concealment, working his way deeper into the facility, all senses alert for the sound of guards. He found one as he cleared his throat and crushed his larynx before he could sound the alarm. The next one he smelled before anything else; the guard was well hidden, still and silent, but stank of his last cigarette break. A knife between the cervical vertebrae neutralized him noiselessly. James circled the building, noting that the doors were secured with keypads as well as the electronic door locks, so in the end, he ended up scaling the building, slowly and laboriously digging out hand and foot holds using his metal hand. In the back of his mind he was acutely aware of the passage of time; an hour and a half wasted already and he wasn’t even inside the facility. The original plan, the pre-Captain Rogers plan, had been to be less covert – the senses of the Hydra agents were far less acute than a fellow super-soldier – but he had no desire to provoke a confrontation with Rogers tonight, so here he was. Crawling up the side of the building and feeling like a sitting duck, tense for some sharp-eyed sniper to shoot him in the back.

But he made it to the top intact and the security on the roof was far less robust than the ground floor. Two hours thirteen minutes into the mission and he was finally inside, moving silently from room to room and searching for relevant intel along the way. Two floors down he remembered Tony’s recently developed, supposedly undetectable eavesdropping devices, so with a mental curse he backtracked and started placing the bugs at regular intervals.

He was exiting a stairwell when the light and sound of a flashbang grenade blinded him, sending him stumbling backwards. A bolt of electricity to the nape of his neck brought him to his knees and then a savage kick to his chest landed him on his back, gasping for breath.

A flashlight shone in his eyes, ruining his vision. “Looks like you were right, Cap. We did have an intruder. Friend of yours?”

James rolled and kicked out, aiming for the speaker, but a stun stick got him in the temple and left him dazed. A kick to his ribs left him struggling for air again, and then there was a foot on his metal wrist and another on his opposite shoulder, pinning him to the floor.

The last thing he heard, in Rogers’ voice, was, “Not anymore,” and then there was the high pitched whine of electricity and everything went dark.

***

Cold water in his face woke him up and he inhaled sharply, blinking against the flood light aimed at him, creating stark shadows in the room. He tried to stand but was brought up short by the rattle of chains; his flesh arm was cuffed to metal piping on the floor while his metal arm was a terrifyingly dead weight, dragging the left side of his body down.

“Hello again, princess,” a voice said from the darkness on the other side of the light. Footsteps approached, but the person was too shadowed by the bright light for James to get a look at him. “Thanks for joining us.”

James tightened his jaw, wondering how long he’d been out and angry at himself for being ambushed. Now Tony was going to have to rescue him and that was wrong; James was supposed to protect his captain, not the other way around.

A man stooped next to James, features hidden behind a mask and goggles. “I’m surprised to see you without your BFF,” the man said, voice distorted by the mask. “Where is your precious Iron Man now? What do you think, Mack, think Stark’ll even come for our friend here or just write him off as a pet that ran away from home? Cap says he’s not the sentimental type.”

James gritted his teeth and refused to respond to their taunts. The man was just far enough away that James knew he couldn’t reach him, so he curled his legs up to his chest, trying to draw the man closer.

"On the other hand, Tony Stark is rather possessive, isn’t he? Doesn’t like people touching his stuff,” ‘Mack’ said from across the room.

“That’s true,” the man close to him said. “Do think he will still want you when we break you? Nobody likes broken toys."

James sneered at that. “It will take a stronger man than you to break me,” he growled. “Better men have tried. Especially before Tony Stark finds you.”

“Yeah, ok,” the man allowed. “But we’re really just gonna dirty you up a little to drive a wedge between you and Stark.” James jerked hard when a hand patted him on the cheek, a mockery of kindness. “Jumpy one, ain’t he?”

“Almost like a virgin,” another one said, amused. James made his face stay blank as their meaning sank in, a sharp stab of fear making him feel cold inside. Would his captain still want him if these men followed through on their threats, if they put their hands on him, if they used him-

“Aww, yeah. Like a blushing virgin.” The gloved hand caressed his face one more time before the soldier knelt and started tugging at James’ belt. He kicked out at the guard and earned the zap of a stun baton to his inner thigh, making the entire leg go numb. “We all know that’s not true, don’t we? You give it up for Stark all the time. Now don’t fight it, I’m just gonna make you feel good,” the soldier said as he opened James’ pants and pulled out his cock, kneeling on his other leg to keep it immobilized. “Let’s see what Stark thinks about finding you with come all over yourself, looking like a good time.”

James closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, recoiling as far as possible from the man’s touch. His gloved hand was nothing like Tony’s rough callouses, making it easier to will his body not to respond. The room smelled of wet cement and piss and the man of leather and gun oil, where his captain smelled of coffee and cologne and metal. He bit the inside of his cheek, focusing on the pain to distract from the gentle touch at his groin.

“Use your mouth,” the other guard goaded, the smirk clear from his tone.

“Fuck off, I’m not doing that,” the guy groping him said. “Intel says he gets off on pain, maybe I’m being too nice.” The hand on his cock tightened and James jerked, rattling the chains on his wrist. He tried to headbutt the man next to him but the man was fast enough to dodge and clocked him in the jaw for his efforts.

“Stubborn bastard, isn’t he? Should we try the things now?” Across the room James could see a phone screen light up as the watcher pulled out a phone and waved it at the man kneeling over James. “The commands or whatever?”

Commands? An trickle uneasy dread made James’ stomach sink even as the man sat back on his heels, hand leaving James’ cock limp against his thigh.

“Shit, yeah, I forgot about those.” He gestured for the watcher to come closer so he could see what was on the phone’s screen. “Did he say anything about how they work or what they do?”

“He didn’t know, something about making him more compliant.” The watcher shrugged and went back to leaning against the wall. “It will be interesting to find out.”

“Alright, let’s give it a shot.” The man cleared his throat and said, “Reign,” and James swallowed a noise of distress as the effect of the word cut through the fear and anxiety, making him sag weakly against the wall. He could feel the men’s eyes on him, watching him with interest, but he felt drugged by his own body. “Kinetic,” the man continued after a moment, and James tried to suppress a shiver as his skin became sensitive, heart speeding up even as his limbs felt languid. This was normally where he’d be rubbing against Tony like a cat, craving physical contact; here, he was just acutely aware of the rough clothes against his skin, the cool concrete walls against his back and legs. He’d never tried to fight the feeling before, but when the man said “twilight” he slammed his head back against the wall, trying to fight the thick, honeyed warmth as it spread through his veins, but he was far gone enough that the pain felt good. “No,” he said, before he could stop himself, feeling his cock respond to the sudden rush of endorphins flooding his system.

“That kinky fuck,” the man said, his laugh low and mean as he watched James turn into a shuddering mess. “Stark programmed a Viagra trigger into his pet, like an on-call boner.”

No, James wanted to protest, it’s not like that, but his breath was catching on moans in his throat as he tried not to make any noise. They were taking something beautiful, something meant to be just between him and his captain, and they were making it ugly and cruel. “Stop,” he croaked, panting shallowly, flesh hand balled into a tight fist.

“No, this is fun. What’s next?” The man checked the phone screen again. “Oh, yeah. Forty-two,” and that’s when James lost all sense of time, brain sliding sideways with a slow surge of pleasure. He distantly felt hands on him again and he thought he tried to struggle, tried to protest, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Please,” he gasped, and at this point he was ashamed that he couldn’t have said what he was pleading for, for them to keep going or to stop.

Suddenly he registered the distant sound of gunfire and explosions, and the relief James felt made tears come to his eyes. The words stopped, the hands stilled, and James was thankfully left alone in the cold and harsh white light. After a few minutes he heard the door to the room being wrenched open and thrown down the hallway, but pulling himself up from his daze was like swimming against the tide.

“James?” James opened his eyes with difficulty and saw his captain staring down at him in concern, suit standing guard over his shoulder. “Are you ok? What did they do to you?”

“They knew – they knew the reward,” James said, trying to touch Tony but brought up short by the chain still on his wrist. Tony scowled and went to find something to break the chain, making James protest as his captain moved out of his sight. “They knew reign and kinetic and-”

That made Tony stop in his tracks and come back to James’ side, face pale but eyes bright with fury. “Do you know how?” he said, voice hard.

James shook his head and tried to cover himself, but his captain was already there, tucking him back into his pants and shifting so he could cradle James’ head in his lap. One hand carded through James’ hair while the other trailed down the metal arm to the device that was disabling it. He could have sobbed with relief when he felt the arm go live again, snapping the chain on his other wrist and curling around Tony as close as he could.

“I’ll fix this,” Tony promised, wrapping his arms around James as he shivered and came down from the hormone high. He rested his forehead against James’ temple, surrounding his senses with his smell and the sound of his breathing and the arc reactor and blocking out everything else. “I don’t know how it happened, but no one will ever be able to do this to you again, I promise.”

#tony stark #winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark x bucky barnes #tonystarkbingo2018 #non-con

15 notes · View notes