#who both happen to be on the far right of the graph

[maeljade]

I present to you: Blorboposting about my niche interest game maybe a few hundred people know.

#women of xal #asking me to elaborate might cause you to get stuck in an unskippable cutscene for several minutes #WoX #okay only if asked about Xuna and Velvet #who both happen to be on the far right of the graph #Valimer is simply Gender (TM) #and Joy is there cause I needed someone for the other side and he is great

[i-am-dulaman]

Okay I'm riled up about this rn so time for a history of economics lesson (rant) from me, a stranger on the internet

I'm a communist, I hate capitlism, so lemme just put that out there. But capitlism had its moments. Even marx had some praise for parts of capitlism.

And by far the most successful form of capitlism was Keynesian economics, as evident by the enormous increase in living standards in those countries which adopted it between the 1930s and 1970s.

What's Keynesian economics? The idea that capitlism can't survive on its own, and must be supported by government spending at the poorest ends of society and taxes at the richest ends of society (essentially the opposite of trickle down economics) as well as strong regulations on certain industries like banking.

It basically started in 1936 with President Roosevelt who was a personal friend of John Keynes (who the theory is named after).

Roosevelt implemented Keynesian economics to great effect; he raised the top tax rate to 94% (he actually wanted a 100% tax rate on the highest incomes, essentially creating a maximum wage, but the senate negotiated down to 94%) and similarly high corporate tax rates, he created the first ever minimum wage, created the first ever unemployment benefit, created social security in America, pension funds, and increased public spending on things like public utilities and infrastructure, national parks, etc. Which created about 15 million public sector jobs.

This ended the great depression and eventually lead to America winning world War 2, after which many countries followed suit in implementing similar policies, including UK, Australia, and NZ (apologies for the anglosphere-centric list here but they're the countries I'm personally most familiar with so bare with me)

Over the next 40 years these countries had unprecedented growth in living standards and incomes, and either decreasing or stable wealth inequality, and housing prices increasing in line with inflation. Virtually every household bought a car and a TV, rates of higher education increased dramatically, america put a man on the moon, and so on.

Then it all abruptly ended in the 80s and the answer is plain and obvious. 1979 thatcher became UK prime minister. 1981 reagan became US president. 1983 the wage accords were signed in aus. 1984 was the start of rogernomics in NZ (Someone link that Twitter thread of the guy who posts graphs of economic trends and points out where reagan became president)

(Also worth noting those last two in NZ and Aus were both implemented by 'left' leaning governments, but they are both heavily associated with right wing policies.)

This marked the beginning of trickle down economics: tax cuts, privatization of publicly owned assets, reduction in public spending, and deregulation of the finance sector. The top tax rates are down to the low 30s in most of these countries, down from the 80s/90s it was prior. Now THATS a tax cut.

And what happened next?

Wages stagnated. Housing prices skyrocketed. Bankers got away with gambling on the economy. Public infrastruce and utilies degraded. And wealth inequality now exceeds France in 1791.

I don't know how anyone can deny the evidence if they see it, but there's so much propaganda and false information that a lot of people just don't see the evidence.

Literally all the evidence supports going back to Keynesian economics but now that the rich have accumulated so much wealth it's virtually impossible to democratically dethrone them when they have most of the politicians on both the right and the left in their pocket.

Unfortunately it was the great depression and ww2 that gave politicians the political power to implement these policies the first time around. Some thought the 2008 crash would spur movement back towards Keynesianism (which it actually did in Iceland, congrats to them), I hoped covid would force governments to now, but nope.

All these recent crises' seem to have just pushed politics further and further right, with more austerity and tax cuts.

I don't really have a message or statement to end on other than shits fucked yo.

#also this is purely talking about the economics side of things #i know pre-80s the social side of politics was fucked despite the increasing living standards #with jim crow laws ans segregation and countless anti-queer laws etc. #and i know you canr seperate the economy entirely from social aspects of politics #but for the purposes of this post this is about the theoretical implications of different forms of capitlism #thats also why im not mentioning the recent descent towards fascism even tho it is closely tied to the economy #anyway #so yeah ive been reading a lot on economics lately #capitlism #economy #Keynesian economics #communism

[lixxen]

can you tell us more about luvbug and their members?

Omg of course!!

Link to my Instagram, which will let you find the owners of the other trollsonas

So, LUVBUG is one of two fanmade music groups for Trolls, the other being Alpha Centauri. The two groups are collectively 10 or 11 artists on Instagram who came together to make the groups. Each member, and the manager, are all trollsonas of each artist participating in the AU. LUVBUG happens to be the group I am part of, so I draw them. We are a silly little group chat of 15 people and some of the others aren’t participating, but enjoy it

The AU is a 2000’s boyband one (think *NSYNC), where LUVBUG and Alpha Centauri are rival bands. It started with Amour and JD (who is a kinsona of John Dory) being a music duo in a relationship. They break up and Amour makes LUVBUG while JD makes Alpha Centauri. The groups are both managed by the same person, Banana. Banana was their manager when they were a duo and now manage their groups. The two groups, other than Amour and JD, don’t actually have bad blood for the most part. It’s more for show for the most part. There’s two members, one from each side, dating also.

Now, to the members!

I’ll be using this to explain whose who

Top left: Amour (The Diva, she/her). She is the leader

Second to top left: Grayer (The Bimbo, he/him)

Top third: Reese (The Baby, they/them)

Far top right: Riot (The Daredevil, she/her)

Middle left: Banana (Manager)

Middle right: Apricot (The Odd One, he/him)

Relationship dynamics

These are little graphs we all made to give a really basic understanding for things. These were created separately and overtime, so they might be a little off. Apricot’s owner made the little icons

Other

We also have a Notion page that we’re slowly putting together to collect everyone’s backstorys, information, and a ton of other things. We are also making playlists and albums for them!

They are pop! Literally think of NSYNC mixed with Britney Spears and that’s kinda just them.

They have two regular studio albums, then three member focused albums after so far.

This is Grayer’s focus album. This is the CD front and back!

This is an art trade I made for Amour’s owner! It’s a magazine cover!

Please ask away if you want anything specific!

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls 2 #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls world tour #trolls oc #trolls ocs #trollsona #trollsonas #luvbug #trolls John Dory #John dory #my art #brunch art #boy bands #y2k

[mako-neexu]

please do give a summary!! and thank you 🥺❤️

i got busy with dream striker asdsjkfh but heres the summary:

basically 80% of the Servants take their leave and return to their home countries- or at least where they're located considering the earth is bleached. And Santa Martha picks Nemo to be 2023 santa this time so he's named Nemo Porter. After taking on the role of santa, Nemo insists on guda and mash to stay and fully relax in the border then after nemo leaves BB helps guda and mash secretly assist santa nemo by making sure his route is safe wherever he goes.

over the week, we get to learn that nemo took on being santa because he wants to give someone a gift. you see how even king hassan himself warned nemo about it then later on merlin stops nemo for a while because of just how risky the operation is and tells them that its practically near-worthless given what they're going to do, then BB with guda and mash not to ask nemo about what hes planning.

nemo's objective all along is to gift guda their chaldean uniform- the very Master from years ago who collapsed right after a battle simulation as soon as they came to Chaldea. its really sweet...

it was a highly risky voyage considering time travel itself is near impossibility and could absolutely destroy Nemo's saint graph into nothing should he even breathe wrong during the Zero Sail or during his time at 2015 chaldea. so "no changing the past" is something that was absolutely integral to the time travel. even telling past-ritsuka about how special the uniform is would cause everything to fall apart. (this is also why the event is named like this btw 7 days of preparation and delivering presents and 8 years of traveling back far into the past)

after going through against the harsh upcurrent (and even seeing guda's nightmares especially Garden of Lostwill), nemo and the crew eventually safely travel back to the past, with nemo wearing meuniere as a disguise. there, he sees cerejeira, some old staff... and finally Romani Ar- "Man in a Lab Coat".... which the Man almost instantly realize its not "Meuniere" beneath but maintains friendliness regardless. they have a chat- a small chat of world fighting for survival to which the Man in a Lab Coat expresses his opnion that there is no right and wrong in a battle for survival. that the victor only gets to have the right to see what happens next.

then the conversation finishes and "Meuniere" asks the Doctor for two pairs of white gloves. to which santa nemo gives to the present guda and mash as his christmas present for both of them, after having delivered past-guda's uniform for them to use later on.

ok cut now for lore stuff

basically the most striking detail albeit small, changes everything.

"Announcer" - Prologue of the Fuyuki singularity

"CHALDEAS" - Christmas 2023 event

this basically means that it wasnt an accident that Fujimaru Ritsuka became Humanity's Last Master that day. it means that CHALDEAS itself literally planned for fujimaru to pass out in the simulation to delay their arrival from the bombing, setting the battle simulator to "Senior" or highly difficult on their first day.

CHALDEAS. CHALDEAS itself chose ritsuka that day. it could probably be because no one was highly as compatible with servants as much as Fujimaru Ritsuka themself. and considering its true purpose is to fulfill marisbury's grand order, it must have chosen them for that reason? theres not much info on chaldeas that i remember but if you consider this, then that changes everything from the start.

#ask #fgo #fate grand order

[fayrobertsuk]

Cease and Desist

I really need to rant about the state of UK politics, but also I'm so literally tired of living in an increasingly fascistic, villainously late-stage-capitalist state that I don't know if I can summon up the energy to properly describe (let alone explain) the shitshow that this country is turning into, reminiscent of the worst nadir of the 80s.

Like... have you read Suella Braverman's fuck-you letter to Rishi Sunak yet? That was... certainly something, and honestly looked, to my mind, tantamount to a call to arms for the far-right and offering herself up as a rallying point, probably leadership.

And yeah, it was disturbing.

Her four points which formed part of her conditions to support someone she's now publicly labelled, essentially, a weak leader with little support and reliant on what bigots she can muster to his back... are genuinely troubling stuff. Aggressively regressive and deeply misanthropic. She attacks migrants and refugees, trans people (especially trans youth), and lays it out as though she's being the reasonable one. She's managing to make Sunak look centrist. No mean feat.

Go look at "small boats" as a topic on Twitter, just for an example of who she's representing. Trust me: it's not just progressive folk being sarcastic and/or appalled by the anti-refugee rhetoric, there are a shit-ton of people complaining that not enough is being done to curb "the problem of the small boats". Who've bought into this propaganda wholesale.

If you're not concerned, I'm going to suggest that either you're not paying enough attention, or you consider yourself one of the people her priorities serve.

Either way, you have to know that there's only one real way this shit can go if we don't find a way to stop it.

Because it gets worse, for my money. Tonight (well, 15-Nov-23), the House of Commons had the chance to vote on a proposed amendment to the King's Speech put forward by the Scottish National Party: for the UK to call for a ceasefire in Gaza. And not only did the Tories overwhelmingly vote against that (which we would obviously have expected), but the Labour Party were told: if you're a Shadow Cabinet member and you vote for the ceasefire, you're out, we'll give your job to someone else. Obviously I paraphrase.

Turns out you can go to the Government website and download the raw data about the way the MPs voted (or failed to vote) on the matter of the ceasefire, which gets you the names and parties and which way they went. So I made a graph. And I'm honestly sickened.

(Image description in alt-text; let me know if you need the data in a different format up-front.)

Now, it's not like if all the Labour MPs who'd abstained had voted yes it would have swung it (it would still have been 266 vs. 294), but I know I'd be feeling a lot better, and a lot more confident in our so-called Opposition.

See, the thing is that, to my mind, unless you're genuinely all-for the extermination of all Palestinians in the region, a ceasefire is the only means to an actual solution. I just keep remembering how much progress was finally made in Northern Ireland in the 90s, but that (and I wildly simplify here, I suspect) it took a ceasefire to give stability and space and time in which successful negotiations could happen.

Just as I condemned, and still condemn, both IRA and UDA, and every politician and financier egging them on, so do I condemn the violent extremists on both sides of the equation in Gaza. And I strongly suspect that, if nothing changes, thousands upon thousands of civilians, mostly Palestinian, are going to die through no fault of their own until there's no-one left to annihilate. To dicker about the Right Kind of Cessation of Hostilities is demonstrating a casual disdain for human life that chills me even as I rage.

We all like to think we'd be one of the good guys when we look back at pivotal fascist moments in human history. The truth is that, right now, people's lives are being destroyed while people with unimaginable amounts of power are more concerned with jockeying for more than attempting to stem the tide of dehumanisation we're seeing rising across the world, simultaneously in pretty much every nation this time. I don't see anything like enough happening to stop it, and I'm genuinely scared.

#fay speaks #fay rants #uk politics #world politics #image #image description #twitter #fascism #late-stage capitalism #suella braverman #rishi sunak #keir starmer #rise of fascism #historical conflict #ira #uda #palestine #ceasefire #israel #ceasefire now #graph #image description in alt text #long post

[enstarstracker]

I know I said this blog won't have any fancy graphs, but...

I put together a quick overview on who will get a center song next rotation! I also have elaborations on some less obvious ones.

Here it is:

First of all, let's get the ones who are guaranteed out of the way. Trust me, it's a lot of them. In fact, it's almost all of them.

"what makes them guaranteed?"

Basically the ones who are guaranteed are the characters who are the only ones left for their unit for a center song! Whether it is the unit's first cycle (four person units) or their second cycle (two person units), they are the only ones left for their units.

v Continued below the cut v

these characters are:

Tori, Hokuto, Tatsumi, Rei, Tomoya, Nagisa, Shu, Yuta*, Rinne, and Kohaku*.

*We are still awaiting the upcoming 2wink event after valk, but Hinata is 1st most due for a 5 star so it is basically guaranteed that he is getting the center song. If for whatever reason, it isn't him and Yuta gets the upcoming event, ignore Yuta on the overview and replace him with Hinata.

*I know the last Madara event was technically a MaM one, but MaM and DF usually get counted together which leads to Kohaku being next.

That's ten characters that are guaranteed to get a center song (I said it was almost all of them-).

For the ones not guaranteed, I will provide an elaboration on why it will be them (or in Knights' case, why I have no clue at all).

-Kanata: Ryuseitai's center is between Kanata and Midori. However, Midori has already gotten two events in his shuffle center and the recent 1.5 tour event. On the other hand, Kanata has so far only gotten one event in his SS tour. To keep balance within the numbers of the unit, Midori won't get his third event before Kanata gets his second one. Not to mention that Midori has had a center song with his shuffle and therefore takes priority over Kanata in the next Ryuseitai center song.

-Keito: Akatuski is going to start a new cycle of center songs in the next rotation. So you would think that it could be all three of them to get the center song, however this is not the case. All three of them have gotten two events. However out of the three of them, Kuro has gotten two center songs so far: Akatsuki center and shuffle center. This means we can leave him out as he won't get a third center before the others get their second. Which leaves Keito and Souma. Considering Souma only got his center song recently, it seems unlikely that he will get one so soon afterwards.

"but Mika-" I KNOW. However, Valkyrie is a two person unit which leaves for very little choice, especially when they want to switch things up. Considering Keito's center was longer ago, it would make more sense for HappyEle to go with him over Souma for next rotation.

-Knights: I am gonna be real with you, I DON'T KNOW. I can give arguments for both sides here. Let me explain: Izumi's shuffle center was alllll the way back in the first rotation, meanwhile Tsukasa had a tour for the SS. So you'd think Tsukasa will get the Knights center because Izumi already had a center song, right? WELL, we all know what happened with Kaoru, he got his center song last rotation even though he had a shuffle center in the first, leaving Rei in the dust. The same thing can happen with Izumi. Not to mention both of them have only gotten ONE event, it can go either way here. Frankly, I think whoever doesn't get the center song will get a tour anyways, but we can't be certain.

"but they wouldn't give Tsukasa another tour, right?"

Yeah they would, look at Tatsumi and Tomoya. I can't use the 5 star due list either because:

they are so close to each other that it can still go either way

the due list will change sooooooo much overtime that you can't tell the far future from it

In my opinion, both sides here are on equal grounds to get the next center song. Even though I feel like it will be Tsukasa, I can't be sure of it. So instead of putting one of them in the quick overview, I am leaving it open and advice that both IzumiPs and TsukasaPs prepare for an event. Just remember that they both only have gotten one event so far and that it's therefore likely that one might get a tour.

Now onto the last one:

-Sora: you could say that this one is kinda easy to determine. Tsumugi already has gotten three events, so he is definitely out. Natsume has gotten two events, while Sora only has gotten one. Since Natsume had his center song recently, while Sora had his event in the first rotation, it is easy to assume that Sora will get the next Switch center as well. Not to mention that in the current gacha round, neither Natsume or Tsumugi have gotten a 5 star yet. When they do, it will bump them way down on the due list, leaving free game for Sora to get the Switch center (or an event in general). Even in the off chance that Natsume (or maybe even Tsumugi) will get the next Switch center, there is a big chance Sora will get a tour or a shuffle center to get him up to two events.

So yeah, there you have, an overview on the next rotation + my elaborations. I don't have much to say as a closing statement other than just prepare. Prepare for anything, HappyEle is full of surprises. The guaranteed ones are likely to not change, so I wouldn't worry about those?? Just prepare for worst case scenario for the not guaranteed ones and also for the tours and shuffles!

I am hoping to get out a quick overview on who to prepare for for shuffle units next rotation as well once this gacha round is over, so be on the lookout for that!

#I hope it doesn't look rushed I just don't have that much time #maybe I should've waited for 2wink event announcement but nahhhh #enstars #ensemble stars #event tracker

[saintadeline]

(don't remember if this was answered in game!) how long do you think the entire process in research hall was? + what do you think she was like before her time in there?

GOOD QUESTION TBH bloodborne timelines in general are extremely vague and confusing aside from a few events, its less about being hard to place in order (thats usually fine) and more who the fuck knows how much time passes and when. Like how the old hunters and the events of the dlc couldve happened 5 years ago just as they might have 80 years ago. So that doesnt really help theory making LMFAO. The way i see it, the rh timeline is kind of cut in two where the waking world has its own timeline of events and then when the nightmare took it, it was brought back to a mix of specific times in the past, resetting some of the timeline of events and mashing it together to put them in stasis. So to make it easier ill just talk about the waking world LOL i think its like... we know for sure adeline was part of the early experiments, i wouldnt say the first because of the timeline of the healing church itself, the rh was created fairly soon after the healing church actually took position (after the hamlet incident) and we know adeline likely became a saint around its creation as well, so the way i see it she helped in the rh as a saint/nun before actually joining the experiments. So not the first (few?) batch(es) of patients but still early on relative to the rest. I also think her waking world self died a few years after the start of the actual experiments? She seems to have been a bit more resilient than most patients at least in terms of what she could take, but the her we see in the nightmare is definitely not the same way she was in the waking world but thats a whole other can of worms. What im getting at is i think she was possibly already gone by the time the experiments advanced to the stage of the living failures which are definitely more developed in terms of manmade ascension. Its hard to tell when and how the rh transitioned into the orphanage but the way i see it, either the living failures marked the end of an era of trial and error, or the nightmare had a physical effect on it somehow. Maybe both. ITS HARD TO EXPLAIN what i mean about the nightmare id have to make like a timeline graph but i think there IS a physical and timestamped event when a certain place is brought into the nightmare (see: yahargul and mensis), however the nightmare realm itself isnt bound by the law of time and can bring things back in time inside itself when twisting them. I completely lost what i was talking about but i think there was an off time between the official "end" of the rh, (possibly because they could tell something about water wasnt working right. And laurence and maria probably died in between.) and what was later known as upper cathedral ward. I dont *think* the orphanage is directly the rh? Id say the orphanage is a subset of the choir and we can see its not the exact same area as the rh it just overlaps in one place. What i mean by that is the orphanage didnt Replace the rh and there is still very much likely an active equivalent of the rh still working nowadays that the orphanage is attached to. We just dont get to see it but i highly doubt the choir was just concentrated in the orphanage and that wasnt just a smaller portion of upper cathedral ward. Anyway all that to say ummm i have to clue as to how long exactly but id say the rh as a whole had a span of over a few years, maybe something like 5-7? Could be more or less depending on how close to present time you see the dlc. Not extremely long, you can tell the research didnt manage to get pushed very far compared to the emissaries for example. But these did have the backing of ebrietas so its hard to say how much of it comes from pure research and how much is an outside influence. Overall id say it kind of depends on when you think laurence died compared to when he created the church. I dont think he had a long lived vicarhood

[the-empress-7]

Here is the Raynor article: https://archive.ph/Jex86

Both anons are right- it is pretty laudatory to WK AND it says that having to obey is a thing....

Thank you for the article, I have mixed feeling about this. There is a lot to unpack in this article.

Personally I think this is Palace PR. It's basically an intellectualized version of Lazy Waleses with just enough flattery to throw people off the scent.

As much as I love royal tours, we need to accept that we live in modern times. Back when Charles was William's age, there was no 24/7 news cycle, there was no internet, there was no social media. Overseas tours were necessary as a means of communication and engagement, but times have changed. Yes I know that representing the BRF is a primary responsibility of the working royals, but that model of representation needs to be adapted for the 21st century. Updated, not eliminated.

If there is one thing I could impress upon these commentators and royal watchers it's this: Activity does not equal results. It did not pass my notice that instead of using a graph for the most popular royals, the article went with the hardest working royals. Which btw is a misnomer, most engagements that are undertaken do not equal hard work. Am I happy to see the Waleses at garden party today? Yes. But I am not going to sit here and praise them for working so hard simply because they are at a garden party.

Not only is Anne's level of activity impractical, it's also unsustainable. If they really want to force the Waleses to go out on two tours a year just because that's what Charles used to do, it's going to fail. For a myriad of reasons, the biggest of them being that it will take away from the strategic work that the Waleses do, the kind of work that we don't see. Raynor praises their social media efforts over the coronation weekend. Guess what? That didn't just happen without any forethought and planning on their part. Same goes for how the family does practically everything. They make it look easy, but anyone who is paying any attention can see that there is TON of work that goes into the final product aka the public engagement.

Also who wants to remind Charles that when the late Queen was his age, she and Prince Philip still went on overseas tours to far off places like Australia. Charles is more than welcome to take on more overseas tours with his Queen and follow in his mother and father's footsteps, just like he expects William to follow in his.

Lastly, it's really weird to end the article on the note that the author did. It almost sounds like a threat.

[fluffy-critter]

#crosspost #busybee

[takiki16]

so what’s the deal with your new blorbo? assume 1. i know how football works (used to actually watch) but not how/why some players get famous; (2) i know nothing about messi except that he. exist; (3) feel free to go bananas to your heart’s content if you decide to answer this.

fuuuuUUUUUUUQ ME. Can litchrally any Argentinian, any FC Barcelona supporter, ANYONE who has followed fuutyball for more than *checks watch* TWO WEEKS spot me for this one?!?! I am GROSSLY underqualified to answer this question Cunningham's law is about to hunt me for SPORT.

Okay. LIONEL MESSI. I can't summarize everything about this Guy who is currently one of the Main Characters of the most watched sport in the world, but I CAN summarize how he has started cooking my brain!!!

(that is him!!!! my guy!!!! HIM JUMP)

I have been trying to read a book with @rhaeneystargaryen for at least a couple years now, but somehow never had the spoons or the right overlapping interest. And then she told me that she was reading this:

I figured I would give it a try! I wanted something low effort, low investment, something I didn't care a whole lot about that I could put down at any moment bc work has been hell lately. And then I hit THIS line in the introduction, and I could literally FEEL the cursed hyperfixation key in my brain start to turn:

GUESS WHICH ONE IS MESSI!!!!!

I'm not a twitter stan, I swear. I am AWARE there is a media layer here. These people are real, actual human beings with documented flaws and mistakes, I am WELL AWARE that they are ungodly wealthy pro athletes and not "stars who are just like us!!! ✨✨✨." It's also obviously reductive and unfair to view anyone solely through a comparative lens - no living being could live up to the marketing hype that has been generated around Messi, Ronaldo, or indeed any pro athlete in the elite leagues.

BUT GOTDAM IF THIS FUCKER DOESN'T MAKE IT HARD!!!!

Bare bones: Lionel Messi is a football player born in Rosario, Argentina, who at 13yo moved to Spain to play for FC Barcelona. He joined the adult team at a whole ass 17 years old. Ensue absolutely RIDICULOUS teen prodigy meteoric rise, with both Messi and Barcelona winning all the Best Football Awards ever and Best Individual Sports Achievements in Everything. I have spent the last two weeks spending FAR too much time reading football books, and all the gotdam graphs look like this:

People talk about Messi being the player who made them fall in love with "the most beautiful game," and I can SEE WHY!!! HERE I AM!!!! A CLOWN!!! ALSO FALLING IN LOVE!!!! I am googling sports highlight reels of his plays like a CHAD FOOTY HOOLIGAN!! WHO AM I, I AM HAVING AN IDENTITY CRISIS. It is just so much fun to WATCH him! Listening to commentators screaming "Eight, ten, IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW MANY DEFENDERS THERE HE GOES THROUGH THEM!!! MESSI GOAAAALLLLL"

What makes it WORSE is the whole fukken rivalry business the book was about. Cristiano Ronaldo was another super-gifted player who debuted at about the same time and had a similar prodigy teen genius rise. He signed for a rival club in the same league at the same time Messi was playing with Barcelona. The story reads like a gotdam Hollywood sports drama, on both an individual and a team level!! I cannot IMAGINE what it was like watching this unfold as it was happening!

For starters: on an individual level, they were constantly thrown up against each other for every award imaginable. The Ballon d'Or awards list, which crowns you King of Soccer for the year, has looked like this since 2008:

(there is obviously talk that Messi is up for an EIGHTH award this year, but I don't think about the future bc it is bad for my cooked brain 😊)

On a team level, there was (and IS) of course the clubs. I am ABSOLUTELY not qualified to get into the weeds on this, but the rivalry between Barcelona and Real Madrid has deep, deep political, historical, and cultural roots going back (among other things) to Catalonian oppression under the fascist Franco regime in Spain. Josep Suñol, then-president of FC Barcelona, was shot in 1936 by Francoist troops.The matches between the two clubs and the two players with their drastically different teams and styles at the time were super-charged - an ACTUAL QUALIFIED Barcelona supporter is going to have to get in here and explain the history and emotion behind the Clasicos bc THAT IS SEVERAL BOOKS IN AND OF ITSELF!!!!!

The whole point of THIS particular book was not, in fact, a blow-by-blow comparison of the players. The point was that by being WHO they were and WHEN they were, Messi and Ronaldo changed the shape of the game forever in terms of marketing, branding, team strategy, finances, etc etc etc. It's an interesting read (if not entirely unbiased on all points), if you enjoy the absolute blood and oil-soaked clown show that is professional football money!

But ANYWAY.

AFTER I finished the book Messi ended up cooking my brain bc (1) all of the context above re: rivalry in league football, and (2) his PERSONALITY. Someone made him in a lab to ruin my life!

I mean, the club loyalty gets me. For his entire professional career, Messi has played for exactly two teams - Barcelona and his homeland Argentina NT. He only left Barcelona in 2021, VERY much against his will (per him, his agent, his friends, his family, AND FC Barcelona) due to an absolute hot mess of a league financial situation that is apparently still sorting itself out. I don't know how common it is for pro athletes at his level to move around, but I feel like it's more common than that!!! THE CLUB LOYALTY gets me, the HOME LOYALTY gets me!!!! Especially as he's gotten better and better, and there's been more and more pressure on him to keep delivering even in the absence of anything else!

The gotdam STOICISM also gets me!!! Call it shyness, call it humility, call it down-to-earthness or reservedness or whatever you want - what everyone kept mentioning about him in the books (and what certain French marketing departments are still probably saying about him) is how QUIET he is. Journalists would complain about how he "made it to age 30 without ever uttering an interesting sentence in public." A Nike exec who lost a bid with his agent for a sponsorship waved it off by saying "Imagine how much trouble we would be in if Messi had a personality." Relative to his peers in the elite football world, he doesn't have a flash lifestyle with a huge entourage. He doesn't do a lot of press. He doesn't try to push a personal brand, even though it's a big chunk of income for wherever he plays. Even though he obviously COULD, he doesn't go around talking about Greatest Of All Time (TM). When he DOES give interviews he doesn't even talk super loudly. He keeps to his immediate family and his closest circle of friends.

AND YET. AND YET. ON THE PITCH, HE PLAYS LIKE HE DOES. He creates not just for himself, but for his TEAMMATES the way that he does! I realize that NO ONE gets an award for being a team player in a team sport, or for "not being as much of a dick as you could have been," but HE STILL HAS HIS HOMETOWN ACCENT!!! He dedicates his goals to his GRANDMOTHER! He met his wife when he was FIVE YEARS OLD, he has never had a relationship with anyone else ("It has always been Antonella, for me"), he has three beautiful kids, his teammates keep apparently falling in love with him and doing Intricate Rituals, I AM ENDEARED I AM ENDLESSLY ENDEARED

Did I mention he is also very short? Allow me to mention that. 5"7 / 1.7 meters in pro-athlete world is PICK-UPABLE SIZE. Multiple reels out there of his teammates celebrating goals just by PICKING HIM UP it MAKES ME SO FOND

(on an Intricate Rituals note, Messi's size and his evasive style of play has caused a lot of opposing team's strategy to be "make a cage, kick him as soon as you can and tackle often," which has in turn prompted a lot of specific protection strategies for him as a forward and also over-protective teammates :)))). WHICH OF COURSE COOKS MY BRAIN EVEN MORE YOU KNOW HOW IT IS.)

And that isn't even STARTING on his saga with the Argentina NT, which reads like YET ANOTHER HOLLYWOOD SPORT DRAMA that I cannot believe actually happened!

Again, I am begging ANY Argentine to jump in here, I AM GROSSLY IGNORANT as to the history of this sport I got here two whole weeks ago how is this HAPPENING to meeeeeeee

My very basic understanding of the situation is that Messi has played for the national team ever since 2004, whenever he was on break from Barcelona. Over the years since then, Argentina (with Messi) has tried again and again to win the World Cup (and the Copa America), but consistently failed despite regularly advancing to finals. BECAUSE Messi was on the team, Argentina routinely and perhaps unfairly got billed as "favorites" to win, with criticism in the press being focused disproportionately on Messi when they didn't. I don't know how bad the situation in Argentinian media got, but even the western English outlets were picking it up. "Messi plays better for Barcelona than for his home country, Messi isn't Argentinian enough, Messi keeps too much to himself and doesn't sing the anthem,etc etc etc". Maradona famously commented that Messi was "a great person, but had no personality," and that it was useless to try to make a leader out of him because he caved under pressure (referring to Messi reportedly being sick from nerves before the world cup games).

(note: gotdam rivalry. Of the people named who would be better and more stylish leaders, Cristiano Ronaldo was up top )

The pressure DID get to Messi in the end - he issued a statement in 2016 saying he would retire from international football, but there was a huge home campaign to get him to come back to the team. Argentina still didn't win the 2018 World Cup (players of opposing teams said that their strategy against Argentina was not letting them pass to Messi). And so on, and so forth.

AND THEN!!!!! 2021!!!!!

I THINK I HAVE POSTED FAR TOO MUCH ALREADY about the current Argentina NT for someone who, as I said, JUST ARRIVED AT THIS GOTDAM SPORT, but I'm going to make everyone look at these quotes again. These are quotes the team has given ABOUT MESSI HOW IS THIS REAL????

Argentina would go on to win the Copa America - and then...well 🥰

I DON'T KNOW IF I'VE EXPLAINED THIS ADEQUATELY!!! I DON'T KNOW IF I HAVE SUFFICIENTLY REPRESENTED THE DEGREE TO WHICH MY BRAIN IS COOKED!!! Did that mean anything to anyone???? I don't know!

HELL

#my posts #football #lm10 #i am WELL aware this is extremely embarrassing #i give you my solemn word i am not going to become a twitter stan #but also it is BIZARRE to read books about either him OR ronaldo or them BOTH that were written before the world cup #sports journalists who do longform about Messi had this way of writing about him like he was already dead #like this wasn't a real live human being who is going to show up in gotdam Ligue 1 Uber Eats next week #actually you know what it makes me even MORE nervous that he's still out there playing sportsball #it FEELS LIKE there was this perfect cathartic triumph to the episode but you look at the buffer bar #and there is way too much time left for something ELSE bad to happen #lm10 will be a free agent come june 2021 WHERE WILL YOU GO WHAT ARE U GONNA DO. #this was the literal worst decision of my life i hate sports #@Gallifreyburning i know i owe you a volley i SWEAR i am working on it #did I just say 2021 I meant 2023 this is what I MEANNNNNN

[excalculus]

Here we are, heading into another COVID winter.  The fucker’s still here and sadly we aren’t likely to get rid of it any time soon.  You kill diseases by cutting off transmission and slowly strangling them to death.  We tried that.  We locked down the whole world and it didn’t work.

I won’t deny that things look really ugly right now, especially with other respiratory diseases coming back.  But as the sequencing results keep coming in, it’s really starting to look like something incredible happened.

Sure, the lockdowns didn’t succeed in killing COVID.  That doesn’t mean they killed nothing.

Hey, I wonder how the influenza viruses are holding up?

There are two types of influenza that cause the epidemics we get every winter: A and B.  (C and D don’t really get up to the same level of mischief so let’s ignore them for now.)  Type A infects both animals and people, and includes things like the H1N1 bird flu pandemic strain, swine flu, et al.  The H[number]N[number] format points out which subtype of two important viral proteins it has, and usually strains are reported with that code, what animal they jumped into humans from, and where they were first sequenced.  Type B only affects humans, especially children.  It doesn’t have subtypes like Type A.  Instead it has two distinct lineages: B/Victoria and B/Yamagata. 

Today’s best flu vaccines are called “quadrivalent” because they target B/Victoria, B/Yamagata, and our best guess at which two Type A’s are going to blow up this year.  The guess is based on global sequencing of flu infections, so we have at least a decent idea of both past and current circulation logged in databases like GISAID and the WHO’s FluNet. 

Cases went way down during the lockdowns - masking and social distancing pushed spread down to a fraction of what it usually is.  Influenza in general is now back in force as people go back to their normal behavior.  There’s plenty of Type A flying around.  There’s been B/Victoria.

B/Yamagata has not been conclusively identified since March of 2020.

As early as 2021, flu researchers noticed the lack of new B/Yamagata sequences coming in and started to suspect something was fishy.  Look at this graph of GISAID flu data by lineage:

[GISAID] [paper]

Let’s, uh, check FluNet maybe?  That shows that in a typical year you see tens of thousands of cases of B/Yamagata on PCR tests.  2017 had 30,552; 2018 had 51,524.  Then... 3,464 in 2019.  364 in 2020 in only 9 countries.  It does seem like there are still signs of life in 2021 with 8 hits, but keep in mind these detections are based on simple PCR tests like what we do for COVID.  PCR tests are exquisitely sensitive, to the point where it’s been shown that giving flu vaccines and then later using the same room to give flu tests can throw a weak positive by picking up viral RNA from the vaccine.  More specifically, as of March 2022 there’s been a case of this exact thing happening with what looked like a B/Yamagata detection.  So it’s going to be more reliable to look at only the results from full sequencing, where you can yeet anything that matches the vaccine ingredients and only look at wild viruses. 

[paper]

Zero.  Nothing.  All signs point to we shot at COVID and blew up an entire flu lineage as collateral damage!  What the fuck!  We’re probably going to have to change how we do flu vaccines because fully a quarter of what they aim at looks to be gone from the face of the earth!

True, influenza B/Yamagata could still be out there somewhere that hasn’t been sequenced.  Proving absence is hard.  But the fact that Type A and its sibling B/Victoria are back and easy to find really does suggest it’s gone, or stomped down so far it’s near impossible to find.  Time to watch and wait and feed every sample we can into the sequencers, but if we keep not finding it...

A disease is considered eradicated when we’re sure there’s no more transmission “in the wild”.  For smallpox, which was also wildly contagious and also had no nonhuman reservoir, that was three years from the last known case. 

Clock’s ticking.

#biology #flu #influenza #virus #medicine #if covid weren't so insanely contagious we 100% would have killed it

[starrykitty013]

heyy i was wondering if u could do more avenger and Peter interactions. I would love more Steve and Peter but any thing is fine

Okay so idk if you wanted a drawing or a writing scrap but I made both. Tbh I made the animatic like fresh but the lil story I will attach to this ask is a little scrap from JGLEH that never got in and honestly is pretty bad but whatever here it is, it mostly has Fury but there avengers at the end and I didn’t wanna write a full one shot cuz it’s finals week and I’m already hanging by a thread.

Thank you so much for this ask tho, I hope you have a good day.

So here is the story:

So the kid was an official idiot.

Like now.

At 2:54am.

Parker: i srsly dont need 2 b here

Fury: I didn’t think kids texted like this anymore

Parker: we dont but like i was trying to dull down my gen z around you

Fury: how considerate

Parker: np

Fury got all of 3 minutes of peace before his phone buzzed again and he groaned.

Parker: let me outta this torture!!

Fury didn’t plan on responding as Peter proceeded to send him large paragraph texts about everything that was going on. Apparently he was roomed with Stark

Parker: jokes on them imma patrol

Fury: in Minnasota?

Parker: no in Canada

Fury: you are a little shit. Stop texting me.

Parker: *picture of a random graph chart with no lables*

Fury: what does that even mean?

Parker: find loss

Fury:...

Parker: iz ded meme

Parker: u shod no

Fury: I feel like your language skills are depletling with this conversation.

Parker: english is stupid

Fury sighed and the next text was sort of unexpected.

Parker: are you coming?

It was surprising because A.) Parker never used punctuation and B.) he never asked Fury to come to anything.

Fury: why?

Parker: cant deal with birdbrains rn

Fury was slightly taken aback. Peter often complained about the Avengers, but he never asked anyone to deal with them for him. He was headstrong and stubborn and a general pain in the ass to anyone who had ever known him - as far as Fury was concerned.

But Fury was curious as to what they could possibly do to annoy Peter enough to ask Fury to come up.

Fury:why?

Parker: Im puking

That threw Fury in for a loop. He immediatly pressed buttons on his phone as the call was ringing. Only after Fury did the action that he relized how ‘caring’ it must make him seem. The tone changed to a muffled russling in the background that was obviously Peter.

“Hey.” his voice was hoarse and Fury jumped forward to respond.

“What happened?” Fury asked immediatly earning a soft laugh out of Peter.

“Aww, you do care.”

“I’m asking what happened on the mission Parker. Not about your health issue right now.” Fury said. It was an excuse to make sure Peter was actually okay. There was no way in hell that the Avengers would take care of him and even if Peter could take care of himself, Fury wanted to make sure he wasn’t dying (the kid had a nasty habit of hiding fatal injuries or illlnesses) so he could be assured that Peter would come back to New York to actually take care of himself. “Status report.” he barked.

“I’m not a soldier” Peter reminded and Fury could picture his scrunched nose.

“I don’t give a shit. What’s going on?” Fury said in a stern cold tone.

“Uhm, well as you know it’s currently 3am, everyone is sleeping.” And Fury sighed and face palmed.

“Then how are they being ‘insufferable’?” Fury said in an annoyed tone.

“They were being insufferable.” Peter defended weakly.

“Is the mission going well?” Fury asked.

“Yes.”

“Then, please, tell me why you were texting me at three in the fucking morning Parker.” Fury gritted in the phone.

“... I might be a little...sick.” Peter mumbled and Fury could tell he was embarassed.

“And that’s my problem how?” Fury asked.

“It’s not… I just… didn’t feel good.” Peter said and a meek tone.

“This is the stupidest reason to call me.” Fury said to the boy, he didn’t yell at him though.

“I know.” Peter responded dejectedly.

“I can’t do anything from here. Not without the Avengers knowing and you know that too.”

“I just can’t sleep… and I may have ate too much.” Peter said. “It’s not serious.”

“Then why are we still talking about it?”

“I dunno… This conversation is kinda choppy.” Peter said. “But do you have anything else for me to do. I can’t sleep.” he said again.

“What happened to patrolling Minnasota?” Fury asked and Peter groaned.

“Minnasota is boring! I can’t hear any muggings or assults within a ten block radius!”

“Then play hockey or something.” Fury said and went to his computer to find the mission files. “How much of the mission have you gotten done?”

“About like 76 percent of it. We just gotta bust a werehouse and do a sweep for anybody who might’ve gotten away.” Peter responded. “Cap and Wilson could’ve handled it, you didn’t even need Barton.” suddenly there was a muffled knocking at the presumably bathroom door and it opening as Peter presumably looked up.

“What are you doin’ up?” Barton’s sleep-ridden voice snapped at Peter. Peter had been reletivly quiet but Barton was a spy.

“I’ll call you back.”

And the call hung up.

OoOoO

Peter looked up at Captian America, Falcon and Hawkeye as they had sat him on the bed in the hotel room.

After Clint had found him talking on the phone at 3 in the morning, he felt it nessary to call the rest of the team that was assigned on this useless mission to action.

“You said Fury was on the phone. What did he want?” Steve asked, they were all reasonably still grumpy from getting up at this time of night.

“Oh you know, mission reports and stuff.” Peter said casually. There was no way to admit it was because he had gotten sick and kind of asked to be picked up. It wasn’t even that bad, he’d just eaten too much at dinner. He was mildly nauseous, but nothing to write (or his case text) home about. He didn’t even know why he had texted Fury or told him that he was sick. The man didn’t care, he guessed it was because Fury wouldn’t give him sympathy. “He wanted to know when we’d be done.”

“We just got here.” Steve narrowed his eyes.

“That’s what I said.” Peter then leaped out a window to avoid further questioning

#how to make a scene end quickly: make characters jump out of a window #starry asks #starry answers #starry animatic #starry writes #animatic #writing scrap #marvel #Spider-Man #peter Parker #steve rogers #captain America #nick fury #literally Peter lives to be a menace #starry au #fanfic #marvel fanfic #like Steve literally does not know what to do with this child #it’s finals week and I did this instead of studying #it’s been a minute since I did anything with that universe #like I know I have those prequels but damn is it hard to find the motivation to write that #ask me anything #literally they make me so happy #I did this instead of studying for finals lol #doodles

[zabiume]

title. bubblegum hearts

pairing. orihime inoue & riruka dokugamine (friendship/pre-relationship)

warnings for angst, a tiny bit of internalized misogyny that one of the characters confronts head-on. mentions of past ichihime/an ichihime break-up + riruka’s implied crush on ichigo & orihime.

(Read on AO3)

Riruka’s about halfway through a boring business meeting when she gets the text, the chirp of her phone a godsend enough for her to peel her eyes away from the presentation Yukio’s giving. She isn’t wearing her contacts and she has to squint but she can tell from the general layout of her phone that it’s from Chad. 

They broke up, it says, and the air in Riruka’s throat goes tight. He doesn’t even have to say who – their list of mutual friends is admittedly short, even by her standards – but Riruka feels her heart thump in soft panic anyway. She doesn’t know why she feels anxious, but she does, and her first thought is, surprisingly, if Orihime’s okay. Riruka’s mind’s eye fills with mental images of her, round, honey eyes filled to the brim with tears and suddenly Riruka doesn’t want to be here anymore. Here, as in this meeting, but also ‘here’ as in away from her friend in her time of need, if she’s being honest with herself. 

I’ll be back in K-Town by noon mostly, she texts Chad, before biting her lip and adding, is she alone?

Chad doesn’t reply for a long while after that and Riruka feels a surge of annoyance at him for dropping a bombshell and fucking off somewhere, as per usual. She twiddles her thumbs and watches the graphs and sales figures flicker with absent interest, wondering if she has enough time to take an early train back to Karakura. It’s not like Chad told her how bad it is. It’s not like she has the capacity to understand the situation from where she is right now. Her phone chirps again, and this time she doesn’t have to squint. 

She could use a friend, the message reads, and Riruka decides this is the universe making her decision for her. 

She leaves the meeting, making a mental note to make it up to Yukio later. 

*

When Riruka knocks at her door nearly an hour and a half later, she has a pack of twelve donuts in one hand, assorted and glazed – just the way they like it. If Orihime doesn’t want to talk, she can leave it at her doorstep and expect an apology text later. If Orihime does, like Chad said, they can eat it together. Riruka isn’t sure what she should be expecting on the other side of that door, but that doesn’t mean she’s about to sit on her thumbs to wait and find out. 

She hears a muffled “Riruka?” from inside, before the door swings open and reveals a fairly normal looking Orihime, peering at her curiously. She’s in sweats and a rib tank, her hair wound into a bun at the top of her head, casual as anything, but her eyes are bloodshot and Riruka makes the split-second decision to barge in then and there. 

“I brought donuts,” she announces flatly, shoving the box between both of them, “They’re for both of us, so don’t go finishing them before I wash up.” 

Although her gait is confident enough, she feels a little nervous about storming around Orihime’s apartment like she owns the place. She’s only been here a handful of times, but the layout is familiar – plushies and manga resting on a cabinet against the far back wall, her late brother’s portrait catching a slant of light on the low table. 

("He was hot," Riruka had said once, and it was a testament to Orihime's surprising dark humor that she'd only giggled and snatched his portrait away from her). 

Riruka heads to the kitchen so she can wash the train grime off her hands. Briefly, she wonders if Orihime’s in a vulnerable enough state to kick her out for intruding on her heartbreak like this, but Orihime just smiles at her and sets the box down on her kitchen counter. 

“Who told you?” she asks softly, and when Riruka catches her gaze, her smile is resigned--a bit wan, even. 

“Chad,” Riruka admits, “He was worried about you.” She wants to ask what happened, but that feels too sharp-tongued, even for her, so she just arches a brow and waits for Orihime to initiate. 

“I’m alright,” Orihime insists, biting her lip. She looks fairly calm, but it’s impossible to tell just what’s going on in her head sometimes, so in this case, looks can be deceiving. “Really, I am.” Orihime’s nose scrunches, when it looks like Riruka doesn’t believe her. 

“It’s okay not to be.” Riruka snorts and picks up the box. “That’s what these are for.” She guides Orihime by the shoulders to the television and nudges her down to sit on the worn sofa despite her protests. When she drops down beside her, Orihime nods gratefully. Their bodies are warm on the couch, touching only hip-to-hip as they settle. Some old anime is on, mere background noise as Riruka pretends not to hear Orihime sniffle and chew on her strawberry jam donut. She wonders if it was in bad taste to pick that one out, considering. Well. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Riruka asks after a moment of silence, still staring at the screen. Orihime hasn’t done much but blow in her tissues since Riruka got here and Riruka can’t help but wonder what the hell happened. 

“No,” Orihime replies, snuggling closer. “Is it okay if we just...sit for a while?” 

Riruka’s heart shrinks, but she shakes her head. “Of course it’s okay, dummy,” she scolds, throwing a long arm around Orihime’s thick shoulders. There’s a blanket by their laps and Riruka arranges it so it covers them both, a snug lump of legs and ankles and toes. 

This is how they sit for a while, in complete and almost content silence. Halfway through the episode, Orihime brings her head to rest on Riruka’s shoulder, and they both pretend like she isn’t crying in soft, shaky sobs. Clearly she’s not ready, so Riruka doesn’t push her beyond the squeeze of her hand on Orihime’s arm – just a reminder that she’s here, in whatever capacity Orihime needs her to be. Break-ups aren’t always easy, and she supposes it’s even harder now, with these two. 

It’s strange that way, because when Riruka first heard Ichigo and Orihime were going out, she’d always assumed it would be like, a thing that stuck. That they’d be one of those nauseatingly sweet couples, the ones that held out doors for each other and gave out compliments and woke up every morning with no promises beyond just loving and being in love. She always thought she’d get the wedding invite eventually, and then the call to see the cherub-faced baby at the hospital, and then she’d tease and jeer and fight Chad over who brought the cutest clothes. It felt unnatural and fairytale-like for more than most, but for Ichigo and Orihime, she always felt like it was inevitable. Like the knot in her chest was something she’d just have to get used to as she watched her two friends run along ahead of her. Without her.

Now, Orihime is sitting with her head on her shoulder in tears and Ichigo – Riruka draws in a breath because God knows where Ichigo is, what his role is in all of this, how much culpability he bears. 

How did he fuck this up? she thinks in righteous anger, because that’s what good girlfriends do, right? And Riruka might not be a hero, or a saint, but she’s always been a good girlfriend to Orihime before she’s been ‘the one that got left behind’ or ‘the one that was never even an option.’

That’s her role in all of this, at least. Or so she thinks. Half of her wonders why she’s even here, when Orihime has an entire motley crew of idiots who’d sit here and let her snot soak up their sleeves like she’s doing right now. But when Orihime’s hand curls around hers with a small squeeze, she feels the harshness cut right out of her and melt into something soft and steady. Something supportive, even. 

The sun dips past the curtains and Riruka forcibly switches the over-the-top battle anime to a cooking show, because she might be a good friend but anime is genuinely fucking awful. It’s not like Orihime was watching anyway, so she lets that assuage her guilt when Orihime turns her puppy eyes on her. Riruka regrets ever teaching her that trick because she’s too beguiling for her own good and Riruka never knows how to say no in a way that matters anyway. Some time over the course of the evening, they order take-out and make small talk. Orihime asks after Yukio, their apparel line, Jackie’s work abroad and makes interested noises while listening.

“It’s been a busy year, what can I say,” Riruka mutters, “We can’t all be the college it-girl studying how to educate a bunch of brats.” 

“Childhood education,” Orihime replies with a small smile. “You remembered my major.” 

Riruka’s heart skips a beat at her earnest expression. “Well, you never shut up about it.” 

That gets a genuine laugh out of her, and suddenly all the tension in the room just floats away. Even at rock bottom, Orihime's just always been that girl. The kind that lights up a room, and whose smiles people would go to war for or something. But she's always been this, too — sad, lonely, broken and deeply human. That Orihime lets Riruka see this side of her speaks volumes to her trust. Riruka has had female friends she would never show her rock bottom to — only because she knows they'd enjoy it. Chin up, tough-bitch-attitude, just so she could never give them the satisfaction. That Orihime trusts Riruka to let her guard down…it melts something in her that used to be flint-sharp and defensive. 

Riruka groans. "One of these days I'm going to kick his ass and no amount of eyelash-batting from you is going to stop me, I'm serious."

Orihime leans up and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. "Thanks. I love you." 

Riruka averts her gaze and fights her stupid emotions. "Yeah, me too." 

#riruka and her friendship w orihime is just. so fascinating to me. #anyway happy new year i brought you angst & slight comfort #riruka dokugamine #orihime inoue #myfic #idk if i wanna tag this as ship since it's mostly pre-relationship/open-ended but. #riruhime

[catholicfacade]

WIP Clark DeBussy Fic Preview

good evening, it's ego. i've decided to post some snippets of the clark fic i've been working on for like a month now! i'm a whore for praise and figured posting some of my personal favorite paragraphs i've written so far publicly might keep me motivated to write more often. i have not written or posted fan fiction in like 8 years and i often get quite discouraged when it comes to my own writing. i'm trying not to let that happen as much with this one since i've been really enjoying it, but i still have soooooo much to write!! so if you don't hear about this again for a while, don't think i gave up on it, i just have a lot i want to write about, and it takes me forever to do so </3

including the tags and warnings and plot points, everything you read below this line is completely subject to change before the final draft eventually gets posted >:) ——— ♰Synopsis: this fic follows the legion plot fairly closely but there is some divergence from cannon; completely gender-neutral reader is a mutant similar to David, where David's powers mostly deal w the conscious mind, readers deals w the subconscious mind, reader is mute irl but can talk in their dreams, has been through serious traumas in their life, Clark is secretly very lonely but acts tough 99% of the time, the relationship between reader and Clark can only be described as lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again. ♰Tags: porn with plot, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, rough sex, lots and lots of heavy petting, pet names (literally) ♰Warnings: NSFW, dubious consent, sexual violence, choking, low self-esteem/poor mental health, mentions of drug use/pill popping

———

((interrogation scene))

“Readings are normal Mr.DeBussy.” Announces the guard that was watching the graphs on the monitor next to you.

“It’s probably because we’d need to catch you sleeping, isn’t that right?” Clark stares you down with a little smirk on his face.

You shrug.

Don’t give him anything. You remind yourself.

Don’t let him try and break you down.

“Well…” Clark snaps his file closed, he lays it down along with his pen and claps his hands together in front of him.

“…you’re officially useless!” He smirks again. A couple of the guards behind you stifle a laugh.

Something boils inside of you. But you don’t let them see that. If only you would be kind enough to show them what their big, mean, tough boss dreams about! A house by the ocean, a sappy long lost lover, a puppy like need for affection. Oh how he melted in your hands like butter. Maybe then they’d know who to laugh at.

“Go ahead and take them away, bring in the next one.” Clark says, and the two guards behind you move to your chair, they rip the scanners from your temples and haul you up by your arms. You never once break eye contact with Clark. He knows he’s a fucking liar and you wished that he would just show you something, some sign, that he was sorry or that he had to act big and tough for show. But Clark gave you nothing. His eyes were as fiery and steadfast as yours were.

You decided you hated him. You shouldn’t have even felt anything for him after just a couple of dreams anyway. He was just like the others. He didn’t love you, he just loved your power (ironically enough). That’s it. Clark DeBussy. He’s just like the rest of them.

———

((dream sequence part 1))

Just as you were about to turn around and walk to Clark’s side of the room, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you. One snaked around your waist, the other around your neck, both held you In place with an iron grip, leaving you completely unable to turn or look behind you. His front was pressed flush against your back, his breath already hitting your ear and sending a chill down your spine. You gasped softly, hands reaching up to grab the arm at your throat.

“Promise me you won’t turn around.” Clark whispered close to your right ear.

You chewed your bottom lip, and after a minute of contemplating, you nodded, the idea that you can actually talk in dreams slipping your mind temporarily.

The arm around your neck was now moved to match the other one on your waist, bringing your hips back with a bump against his groin. You gasped again when you could feel his throbbing erection through his pants, pressed into your ass. Your hands reached down and laid flat against the top of the dresser steadying yourself, the cool surface just underneath your palms. God you wanted to look back right now, but you kept your promise and looked forward.

You could barely even process the fact that Clark was here, which meant he was alive out there in the world somewhere, before his hands were on you, touching and groping you everywhere. His fingers slipped under your shirt and pressed a heavy line tracing up your spine, you arched your back into his touch. His other hand grabbing the tender flesh of your ass hungrily. You couldn’t stifle the ‘mmmpf’ that escaped your lips sounding like half a whimper, half a moan. Your eyes fluttered shut as you dropped your head.

“C-Clark…please….” you manage to whisper.

You wanted to beg for so many things at once that you couldn’t get any of your words out. You wanted to see him, you wanted to know he was okay, you wanted to scream at him for the way he treated you, you wanted to ask him why he came back, you wanted to ask ‘why me’?

“Careful…” Clark said is a dangerously low voice, his left hand snaking up your spine even further, tangling into the hair on the back of your neck and pulling it hard enough to lift your head back. You let out a groan and bit the inside of your cheek.

“…you keep begging for me like that sweetheart and I’ll have you on your knees in no time.” He pressed a kiss into the side of your neck, his lips felt different, rough and uncared for, the corner of them felt rubbery and raised in a strange way, like a blister. It made you furrow your brows together.

“I want to see you.” You said bluntly.

“You just promised me-“

“I want to see you Clark.” You’re more firm, even with his hand still tangled in your hair you’re trying to stand up to him. The hand quickly leaves your head, letting you gain control over your movement again and you let out a sigh.

A small gap forms between your bodies now, he’s taken a step back. You can feel his eyes still on you, burning, never leaving you unwatched. And then more steps back, but there’s something else there, a distinct third tap of something wooden as he takes a step and another and another, until you hear the soft fabric on the bed shift and then settle under him.

“Walk backwards to me. I want you to sit in my lap.” Clark’s voice doesn’t give away anything, and you wished you could slip into his mind and just figure out for yourself what he’s thinking about. But you feel his unconscious body is somewhere too far away, and without direct eye contact, it’s difficult to find out what’s going on in there that he’s not letting on.

So you follow his instructions, taking a careful step back, another careful step back, and on the third one you bump into him, he guides you to sit between his long legs, and you can see his pants finally. They don’t look any different than the other suit pants he’s worn before, just a deep maroon color this time.

So you sit up straight in his lap with your hands on your knees, the heat of his crotch still haunts your backside and makes you gulp.

“Close your eyes.” He whispers, and you close them, as you do so, he places his head against your shoulder and his arms around your waist again. You can feel so much more of his face now, at least you think it’s his face. It’s that same rubbery feeling like before, the plane of his skin is uneven against your thin shirt, and he feels a bit feverish.

“Go ahead and picture a mirror in front of us.” He says softly.

So you do, you picture a mirror on the wall across from you, one big enough to see the both of you. When you open your eyes to it, you can only see yourself for the most part. Behind you pokes out that salt and pepper hair you so desperately love. That maroon suit continues upward to the sleeves of his jacket, a hint of a deeper purple shirt underneath the cuffs on each wrist. His hands are around you, one looks the same as the last time you saw it, while the other looks like it’s hurt somehow. You squint to get a better look at what’s going on with it.

Clark slowly reveals his face now, resting his chin on your shoulder, catching your gaze in the mirror. You stare back at him wide eyed, your jaw coming slightly unhinged as you try to soak him in.

———

((dream sequence part 2))

“Clark?” You sidle up closer to him, petting the blistered skin on his bad side with a feathered touch.

“Yes baby?” He hums sleepily, his eyes are still closed, his fingers lightly trace nonsense shapes onto the skin of your back.

“Are you…” You hesitate.

“…safe?”

The question immediately feel like it shouldn’t have been asked, it’s almost too intimate, even after what you two just did. You sink with regret as Clark’s fingers stop suddenly against your back.

“With you still in the world, no one is safe.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead before turning away from you. The room grows dimmer now, the last few minutes of sunset masking your view in a glow of total red. You can’t move, your body is completely frozen over like ice. You can see your vision go blurry, and a wetness falls down your cheek as you stare into the twisted knots of scabbed over flesh along Clark’s shoulder. In this lighting they seem to breathe when he breathes, like they’re their own entity, separate from the rest of his body. It horrifies and amazes you all at once. You bite your lip and try not to sob as you find the courage to turn away from him like he did to you.

After a few minutes of patient biting, you feel Clark fade from the dream, his consciousness returning to his body on earth. You sob and sob and sob into your pillow, until you can’t remember ever doing anything else but sobbing. And eventually you’re called back to your body too, the sound of an alarm growing increasingly louder as the dream fades to black.

———

((clarks big speech to you at summerland))

“Hey!” He repeats louder, angrier, across from you.

You keep walking, not even looking in his direction, it’s as if he’s not even there. You’re breathing through your nose heavily, and biting the inside of your cheek to distract you. If you don’t, you feel like you might start crying. There’s so much going through your head right now. You just want to be left alone for once.

Clark is the worst clingy boyfriend ever.

As you get ready to pass him and rear the corner of the brick building, Clark’s steps come closer to yours, catching up to you surprisingly fast with his cane. You’re only a couple steps behind the facade of the building, out of sight of anyone else, when Clark’s hand grabs your shoulder and pushes you back forcefully. You turn and stumble backwards, hitting the wall with a small thud. He cages you in immediately, grabbing the wrist on your right arm and pinning it against the wall, his cane presses into your thigh, blocking your escape on your left side. The roughness of the brick against your shirt makes you want to cry, but so do the fingers digging into your wrist. You bite your lip and glare at him enough to burn him.

Clark leans down over you, cool as a cucumber. He smells the same as you remember, like sandalwood and patchouli. His scars stand prominent on his half swollen face, and you think about scratching at them to get away. But you can’t. You start thinking of the many ways to fight back and escape right now, but deep down, you don’t actually want to.

You try to free your wrist from his grip but he clamps down harder, pushing it and scratching it against the brick behind you.

“I missed you.” He says very bluntly. There’s absolutely no sound of love in his voice, no smile on his face, no easing up on his grip. He looks at you the way he would look at anybody else. And that makes you want to cry.

You shake your head and reach up gently toward his face with your free hand, placing it over his bad eye, the one where you know for a fact everyone at Division-3 will be watching and hearing this conversation right now. That is the last thing you wanted, for some jerks in their suits to be getting off to Clark degrading you and spilling all of the secrets about your past relationship in front of them.

Clark laughs darkly and removes your hand from over his eye.

“Sweetheart, they’re not listening or watching. Did you really think I’d let them see this? See you? No, no, no.” He laughs again, and shakes his head just like you did.

“Baby, I make the rules here, if I don’t want them to listen in on me, I can tune them out. No questions asked.” He smirks and drops your hand by your side again. Clark lets go of your wrist on the other side as well, now that he’s let you know you’re all alone, he wants to show you a little trust. You just stand there, wide eyed and wrist throbbing.

“It’s a nice little privilege I’ve gotten for my sacrifices to the organization. If I’m out on personal business, they can get disconnected at the snap of a finger!” He snaps his fingers awfully close to your face, making you flinch. His smile fades quickly and he stares down at you for a second. You swear his eyes trace your lips for a second before coming back up to meet yours.

“Here’s the deal. I have burns on over 40% of my body and I spent six weeks with a tube jammed into the head of my dick. We were ambushed at the pool. Men died. And you want to know what the craziest part is?” Clark’s voice is low now.

“When I eventually woke up from that horrible, excruciating pain on my right side, I didn’t have anyone there to comfort me. I didn’t have anyone there to tell me they missed me or that they were glad I was alright or just to simply hold my hand as I sat in a hospital bed, suffering for over a month...”

You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. His eyes were undeniably glossy now, as he stared deeply into your eyes. But he didn’t let his emotions betray him, not a single tear fell, not a single muscle in his face moved at that moment, he was unchanging and colder than ice.

“When I went home, there was no one there for me. I laid in bed alone for days on end. I could barely even walk myself around the house. I didn’t get any help or any support or any relief from anyone. I knew whenever I got to work again, I would be going to war.”

You immediately felt a heavy pang to your heart, but you were keeping up as much of a straight face as he was right now. Neither one of you letting on to what’s actually going on deep down. It took everything in your power (no pun intended) to not slip into him immediately and caress that trauma away, tell him you’re sorry, and fill him with relief.

You just hung your head down, starting to feel guilty and ashamed, letting your eyes stare into the small patch of concrete between your shoes. Clark pinches your chin and lifts your gaze back up to his.

“You know, for those six weeks I only ever dreamt once? I slept a lot because of the painkillers, but never once, after that first dream, did I ever see your face again.” He whispers to you, his face so close to yours, his breath hitting you everywhere.

“That’s funny isn’t it?”

Your eyes flutter shut, your breath hitches, and you’re not exactly sure what will happen next, but your heart starts beating rapidly, waiting for something.

———

((an early visit from clark in the middle of the night))

Your heart skips a beat when he takes another step toward you, his head hanging over yours now, eyes dangerously close to yours, lips dangerously close to yours. He’s looking at your lips you notice.

You don’t like being taken advantage of. Nobody does. You haven’t been able to get a word in with Clark for days now. He seems to enjoy catching you off guard lately, finding just the right (wrong) times to sneak up on you, where you can’t say anything, you can’t fight back. Times where nobody else is around and you’re exhausted from memory work, or times where you haven’t slept because you’re afraid he might come back to you in a dream. Times where you feel helpless and cornered.

You’re sick of it. He doesn’t get to take advantage of you anymore.

‘I can play your little game too Clark.’ You think to yourself.

You look him dead in the eyes, putting your new training to work, you slip into his mind. It’s heavy in there, feverish, he’s angry, and everything’s hot to the touch. But as you go farther in, careful not to touch the anger brimming on the surface, closer to the abyss of forgotten memories and unconscious practices, sits fear. He’s scared and doesn’t want to be alone.

You smile a little bit and let out a quick laugh. He should really know better by now not to let you just slip into his mind like that, but he just loves letting you in there doesn’t he?

‘Oh Clark, baby…what’s there to be afraid of?’

You inch closer to his face, a bright and evil smile spreads across your lips. Your voice reverberates loud in his brain, it catches him off guard, you see the fear pass just behind his eyes now, crashing together with the anger. Clark blinks, then gulps, and takes a step back. The entire dynamic is flipped on its head in an instant.

“Stop that.” There’s a shake in his voice, but he tries to sound as though he’s still in control. He stares at you, unwilling to back down. You can feel his fear and loneliness tangling together at the back of his mind. You want to pull on it like a rope, make it stretch and fray around the edges, until you pull so hard it splits apart again.

‘Do I scare you?’ You look at him through heavy lids, examining his face like you’re about to devour him. You circle his body, now his back is the one up against a wall, and you stand freely in the space of your room at the foot of your bed.

Clark doesn’t say anything. Your voice is so loud in his skull, bouncing throughout every corridor of his brain, slipping in and out of places he doesn’t want you to be, you’re stronger than the first time he saw you. Much stronger. And that’s what begins to scare him. He clenches his jaw and tightens his knuckles, which have now turned white from gripping the wolf on top of his cane.

‘You’re afraid to be without me huh, baby?

Am I your dirty little secret you hide from your coworkers?

Am I your little plaything that you can’t seem to get enough of?

Your sweet little pet?

If I fuck you good enough, will you tell me that you love me?’

You could say so much more to him, but the next thing you know, Clark’s on top of you, pinning you down to your bed. His cane has been discarded to the side and his hands reach down to choke you. At first you don’t even realize what’s happening, you’re still working your way out of his brain. His hands don’t really stop your breathing at first, he’s just pushing on you, until he makes a little grunting noise and adjusts his shoulders, that’s when you realize your breathing has stopped and you can’t get it to start again. Your heart starts beating even faster now. The twisted up face he’s making shows that he’s struggling to put all his effort into killing you. This is hard for him.

Clark’s hands clamp around your throat, squeezing down more and more and more. He uses his body weight to immobilize your hips, crushing you from the waist down. His crotch is flush with yours and you can feel the heat of him rubbing against you. You try to wiggle under him, maybe granting yourself some sort of freedom but it’s useless. Your eyes open wide when you try to swallow but you can’t, so you cough and choke on the spit that gets caught in your throat. Your continuous movement only gives him more room to press down. You grab his wrists and try to breathe in with little success.

His eyes are wild as he’s shaking above you. You don’t fight back as you watch him, if this is the way you die, so be it. You’ve had a long life full of nothing but pain and misery. There have been so many countless times you feel like you should’ve died that at this point, you welcome death with open arms. Part of you wanted to even thank Clark for putting you out of your misery. You wanted to tell him that you loved him because this was, in the most backwards way possible, the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you.

So you try, with whatever effort remains inside of you, to look into his eyes and reach the deep waters in Clark’s brain again. You try to tell him ‘I wouldn’t have wanted it to end any other way, please be a little kinder to the others while I’m gone.’ But you’re not sure if the whole message gets across, there’s black spots dancing in your vision now, your head feels like it’s about to explode, you just wished it would be over quicker.

Your eyes flutter shut and a tear rolls down the side of your face, into your hair. You lay your head back and take it all in. The swimming vision, the ache in your crotch, the heaviness of his hands against your body, the blood getting caught under the pinched nerves, your heart beat completely uneven in your jugular. Your back arches and you hear yourself gurgle a little bit and it sends a chill throughout your body. The grip you have on his wrists is slipping. You can feel your finger tips tingling like static on a TV.

You’re about to give in to the encroaching darkness when Clark’s hands suddenly ease up, and his lips come crashing down on yours. His tongue parts your lips and you gasp for air, only getting a single breath in before Clark’s covering your mouth with his again. You start to kiss him back. His hands on your throat haven’t left, but they aren’t pressing down on you anymore, his thumbs are gently stroking the area you’re sure will be bruised a deep purple tomorrow.

You reach your hands up to lightly grasp his shoulders, your arms are still weak and recovering. He shifts himself in between your legs now, the backs of your thighs pressing against Clark’s. His hands are trailing down from your throat to your chest and he runs his fingers over your nipples. It must be the adrenaline, or at least you hoped it was the adrenaline making your sex hormones go crazy. Because your nipples harden immediately under the fabric of your shirt. You were getting hot and sticky between your thighs and every part of you throbbed with anticipation for more.

You gasp again when Clark broke the kiss on your lips to kiss your cheek, kiss your chin, then dipping down to kiss that pretty little throat he just majorly fucked up.

Clark pulls away to look at you.

You’re both breathing heavy, his eyes still have that wild flare to them as he watches you to see if things are okay to continue, and in some weird fucked up way, they are. You let your hands travel to his face and pull him back in to kiss you. Clark hums and runs his hands down your torso, he starts to unbutton your pants, you desperately reach down to help him move along faster.

If he doesn’t fuck you right now and hard, you’ll surely be the one killing him next, or at least be the one waking up tomorrow and telling everyone Clark broke into your room last night and tried to kill you and then fuck you.

You both fumble for a second but pry your pants open at the same time, the zipper comes undone with one quick pull and a loud ‘zrrrt’ that flies through the air of the quiet room. You quickly move to undo Clark’s pants next. His cock feels rock hard when you accidentally graze it. It makes you pull away from the kiss to look at him, his face is full of lust and sweat as he looks down at you, his hands resting heavily against your tummy.

He looks like he wants to eat you from the inside out. You’re trying to figure out if it’s in a good way or a bad way.

‘Was this his plan all along?’ You think to yourself.

Clark pulls your shirt up over your head, tossing it to the floor, your chest bare to him now. You’d say you’re blushing from the realization that it’s the first time he’s seeing you naked in real life, but you’re pretty sure your face is still bright red thanks to him. He leans down again, taking the soft skin on your chest between his teeth, it makes your jaw go slack and you throw your head back against the mattress. He kisses you everywhere, biting and sucking and leaving marks on you, as if the two handprints that will be perfectly engraved on your throat tomorrow won’t be enough to say ‘Clark made me his last night’.

You make quick work of his belt and fly. As soon as they’re both undone, your hands go up to tug the hair on his scalp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Clark shows you absolutely no mercy by sucking on your sensitive bud, letting his tongue flick over it, left to right, up and down. His tongue feels so hot over your sensitive skin, licking away the taste of you until there’s nothing left.

And when he grazes your nipple with his teeth, you suck in a sharp breath, your back arching instinctively into his body. He traps you in this position by snaking an arm around the curve of your back, holding you in place against him. His other arm keeps him propped up over you, your nipple perfectly positioned in his mouth, being ruthlessly wetted by kisses and licks from him. And when Clark’s mouth switches sides, it leaves the skin of your chest red and abused. The bitter chill of the room hits your damp skin, already missing the tug of Clark’s mouth, and gives you goosebumps.

With your head thrown back on the mattress and your hands tangled in Clark’s hair, he gives the same treatment to your other bud. He sucks and bites and tortures your poor nipples until you feel like sobbing. The pain and pleasure combined starts to give you a head rush, your arms feel weak again and you can’t help but lay them above you.

He bites once more and you twitch in his arms, the precum between your legs begins to soak through your underwear. Your body begs for friction elsewhere, your need for Clark is endless. He moans when your hips tilt up, and the heat of your crotch grazes his aching cock.

He pulls away hastily, letting your back hit the bed under you again. It takes the breath out of you for a second as you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him swiftly rip his maroon jacket off, then his shirt, which he doesn’t bother to unbutton, just tugs it over his head and tosses it where neither of you can see. You can feel the nerves just under the skin of your chest firing rapidly with tingly little pops like fireworks.

Clark’s chest too looks like some sort of bright firecracker, the skin on his right side weaves and blooms with redness and paleness alike. Damn David for doing this to such a fucking gorgeous man, but it’s true what they say, people do really dig scars.

Your heart beats wildly.

You don’t have much time to admire him as his hands find the waistband of your pants, which he no less than rips off of your body, along with your underwear in one big swoop. They end up quickly forgotten on the floor, with the other scatterings of yours and his clothes.

He steps back and admires your gorgeous body, now naked, panting and slick with sweat on the bed in front of him.

“Wanna know something?” Clark’s voice is weirdly calm, so clam it sends chills down your spine.

You bite your lip and nod at him. He watches you, watching him, take his pants and underwear off slowly. His cock springs to life at its new found freedom, you try to keep eye contact with him, but when his cock is so pretty and pink and begging to be touched, your eyes can’t help but flick down in anticipation for it.

Clark comes back to resume his position between your legs, his eyes flash down to your sex, when his hips end up flush with yours again, he rests his cock on top of the soft flesh of your pelvis. You look at the size of him, and take a deep breath in. From this angle, you can’t wrap your head around how it’s all going to fit in. He cups your face gently and leans in over you.

“You are my pet, and I’m going to make you learn that tonight.”

Clark’s voice is so deep, it makes him rumble above you. He grips the back of your neck with his left hand, your eyes go wide for a split second, and pushes the index and middle fingers on his right hand into your wet mouth. You welcome him in gladly, almost embarrassed at how well you immediately coat him in your saliva, licking the salty taste of his skin off of his fingers.

You look deeply into his eyes and he smirks as he watches you, desperate for his touch anywhere inside of you, even if it was just your mouth. You’re definitely embarrassed now. But you just keep wetting him with your tongue, swirling around him in your mouth. Clark’s fingers go in deeper, you feel his knuckles brushing against your top lip and the tips of his fingers curling around the curve of your throat.

He watches your mouth work to wet him through heavy lids. Your own eyes are fluttering shut, but you try to keep them open to watch him back. You can feel your body wanting to gag against him, but you won’t let it happen, you’ll keep him deep in your mouth with absolutely no hesitation. He loves feeling the back of your throat, poking around where he’s not “supposed” to be.

Clark is very sure this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.

He looks so pleased with you. You might just die from his look alone.

“Good pet.” He hums and slips his fingers out of your mouth, you huff with a hot breath as you watch his fingers leave you, a web of sticky spit still connects your tongue with his fingers. You feel the tiny string snap against your lower lip and pool there as he pulls away.

He reaches down and wipes his two fingers slick with your spit, against the swollen head of his cock, making it shine in the low light of your room. He presses the tip of himself against your entrance. Your body is so hungry for him that you almost think to reach down and put all of him inside of you yourself! But you keep your hands pressed down against the bedsheets, your head hazy and swimming with lust for Clark.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Clark asks, keeping his voice low.

You secretly melted every time he called you that.

Sweetheart. Baby. Pet.

Clark loved calling you that to make your insides twist, he always knew that’s what he did to you. You weren’t sure which one you like being called more. The fact that he called you anything, made you squirm. His simple acknowledgement of you as a person always sent all the blood in your body rushing to your crotch. It made you feel like you were his. Wholly owned by Clark, never anyone else.

———

((comfort from clark after a bad memory work session with Dr.Bird & Ptonomy))

Clark runs a hand up and down your back as you let a few more tears fall from your eyes and onto his suit jacket. You’ll clean it up for him tomorrow.

“I held you there…in the closet. I tried to….talk to you, I guess.” Clark’s voice is soft but unsure. Now that it’s just the two of you he can finally process what just happened.

You lift your head and look up at him, both of your eyes are sad, yours are bloodshot and tear stained, his are worried and tired. You nod and press a finger to your temple and smile at him softly.

“You dreamt it? Good because I-“ He smiles and realizes he’s gotten ahead of himself.

“Because I love you.” Clark says firmly.

“I love you and I hoped you also dreamt of me coming to rescue you because I was beginning to think I made it up!” He chuckles nervously.

You nod again and tap your temple. You had dreamed the same dream. The one that started this whole thing. Although you didn’t realize it at the time, that was the first time Clark had ever appeared in your dreams. The light that surrounded him made him glow above you, you saw him as your guardian angel.

You place your hands firmly on either side of his face, anchoring his gaze to yours.

‘I love you’, you mouth at him and you guide his lips to yours.

You take Clark’s top lip in between your own, then his bottom one. Stubble on the left side of his face scratches your cheek gently, but you don’t mind it at all. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeper, parting your lips for him when his tongue begs for entry. He holds your waist flush against his body while you two kiss.

For a moment you don’t worry about who sees, the world right now is just you and Clark, soft lips and wet tongues.

You both pull away and share a quiet laugh.

“Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?” Clark smirks and turns toward the door of the memory cube, he’s grabbing your arm for guidance since his cane is gone.

It’s dark out now, you’re not sure exactly how long you all were in the memory cube for but you’re sure that everyone else has gone to bed by now.

You help Clark navigate the stairs outside and up to your room. You push the door open and walk in, but Clark remains outside. You turn to look at him, confused. He smirks a little and leans against the door frame.

“I’m technically not allowed to come in still.”

You roll your eyes and tug his arm inside, he doesn’t hesitate after that.

Once he’s inside, you shut your door and turn to join him in your bedroom. Clark groans as he sits on the edge of the bed. The side of the bed you’ve come to learn is ‘his’, you used to sleep directly in the middle out of habit, but dozens of late night Clark visits have taught you to leave some room for him.

You kick off your shoes quickly and quite literally flop down face first into your side of the bed, burying your face into your pillow.

“Hey, wait for me sweetheart! You know I need help with these damn shoes.”

You can hear Clark struggling to reach down and untie the shoe on his bad side, he just can’t seem to bend down far enough without it hurting him. You would pretend it annoyed you to help him sometimes, but you secretly loved doing little things for him like this.

You sigh and roll over to his side of the bed before coming to kneel on the floor in front on him. You untie his shoe, slip it off of his foot, and place it beside the other one underneath the bedside table. You can’t help but smile at the domestication of it all when Clark flicks on the TV to some soap opera you’ve never heard of.

You look up at Clark and start to unfasten the deep red buttons of his shirt. As you do so, you kiss him, once, then twice, letting the third one linger and become deeper. He lets a small moan release from his throat once you’ve finished unbuttoning him all the way, he feels your hands on the skin of his torso. But before your hands can travel further south, he stops you. His hands come to rest gently over yours against his chest. You pull away from the kiss to see him.

“Tonight we should just rest. You need it more than me. And don’t- don’t give me that look baby, when you know I’m right.”

You do know that he’s right but that doesn’t stop you from pouting. You kiss him a couple more times and help him take off his jacket. You put it on a hanger in your closet, letting a finger trace over the mostly dry tear stains that lay faintly on the shoulder. You turn back to see Clark almost completely naked, except for his underwear, he’s getting under the covers and smiles when he catches you staring.

You love his scars, even if he doesn’t. You wished to memorize the patterns of them one day, to be able to trace and retrace them, over and over and over again in your mind.

You slip into the bathroom quickly, just to brush your teeth before bed. The face in the mirror is almost unrecognizable to you, it’s you, and you know that, but sometimes when things get hard, you wish you didn’t recognize it in the end. So you face the other direction when brushing your teeth, leaning your back against the counter and go through the motions. It’s nice to play pretend like none of the memory work effects you, but it’s draining. Years have ticked away, pills have been swallowed, strangers have come and gone, all to make you forget. Yet the memories were still there, just laying under a murky surface of denial. And now, being in such a strange place with strange people telling you there’s no more time to forget. This is how the murk clears up.

What you can see now in those subconscious waters is years of bitter neglect. You waited to be loved for so long, by your parents, by your friends, by strange men and women in your bedroom at night. But none of them loved you.

Your mom never wanted you, that was clear. You ruined her life. And your dad had his own special way of showing you ‘love’.

Those few and far between friends found you cold, distant, preoccupied, and not at all easy to get along with. You were a burden to bring around, like hauling heavy luggage through a long airport.

As for those strangers knocking on your door at night, they would tell you they loved you, but really they just loved the way you could dance around their head and make them feel floaty, light as air. You mistook it for love a couple of times. If they came back as often as they did, it had to be love right? But love doesn’t come at the price of half a dozen sleeping pills a day, sometimes more.

You shake your head, the ache in your chest lingers as you spit out your toothpaste in the sink and rinse your mouth. You avoid the mirror at all costs and promptly exit the bathroom.

Clark is heavy lidded and staring at the TV, he wakes up a little at the sight of you and smiles. You smile back and climb over his legs to get to your side of the bed. You shimmy under the blanket and smile at the relief and comfort the warmth brings you. You feel Clark pull the covers up around you and him, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you in tight against his body. His face is buried in your neck, leaving a kiss here and there, his stubble tickles your skin as he finds the perfect place to rest his head. Clark lets his right hand find yours and interlocks his fingers with you, his thumb begins lazily rubbing patterns over your knuckles.

You’re trying to think about how this was the way Clark held little you in the memory. You didn’t get to see any of it of course, but it’s now all so familiar. Your guardian angel. He was warm like this in your first dream. He was safe like this too. You wanted to remind yourself to thank Clark for holding little you when you see him in dreamland.

He was already on thin ice around Summerland and going in and messing up Ptonomy’s delicate memory work would not grant him any brownie points with anybody. But it meant the world to you. You’d never been cared for like that, someone sacrifices what little trust they already have with the people around them just to protect this memory version of you? You? Maybe that…..that….was the price of love after all.

Before you even realize it, you’re drifting off, the theatrics of the soap opera across from you start to fade into static. The heat of Clark was everywhere, enveloping you, making you feel safe and secure and loved. Finally loved. Those deep waters in the back of your brain were muted now.

———————————————————

i appreciate everyone who took the time to read all of this, i’m open to any suggestions or discussions about this fic or writing in general! i pray that i will continue to enjoy writing it, and at some point, get to post it for you all to finally read! i have a few writing pieces for other hamish characters in my notes currently, but they are nowhere near as grand as this clark fic is right now.

♰Ego

#hamish linklater #clark debussy #wip fic #legionfx #my wiritng #previews

[civildisorderstream]

An Example of Centrism

Most people think of politics in the sense of "this side vs that side" in America, as we are a two party system. Republican vs Democrat, Conservative vs Progressive, etc. The concept of a political spectrum, or horse shoe, or two-axis graph of some sort - all of that is nonsense. What people think, believe, and wish of their government doesn't cleanly fit into that sort of thing and... okay, I started this entry with a specific intent and I'm not going to derail myself.

Suffice it to say, it's easy to dunk on Republicans and they suck, but there are Democrats that suck too. No, not all of them. I'm not a blind anarchist sort. I refer to these Democrats as Centrists, and honestly they refer to themselves the same and pretty openly at that. Where we'd differ is defining what they stand for and how much they accomplish in the country. To them, they are enlightened, above 'partisan' stuff (which doesn't make sense but I'll take that another time), and always seek to bring both sides to the table for compromise. To me, practically speaking, they are a group that seek to keep things in the country exactly as they are; any legislation passed to help marginalized people is extremely kneecapped or narrow in scope, and any legislation to help wealthy peoples (which Republicans do) is explained as, "We need that money to help win elections." Even though they do next to nothing with the power. But notice how in my view, they are conservative in nature. What does that make Republicans and the alt-right? Regressive. Holding the line in a bad situation vs making a bad situation worse. I hate both groups, obviously Republicans more, but Centrists are not heroes.

That's a LOT of world-view explanation for what should otherwise be a quick news comment. I'll do a talk video / stream sometime about that stuff so people can get to know me. On to the meat.

President Biden is choosing a new chief of staff soon, as his current one is going to leave. As far as I know there's no official pick named (I searched the news to be sure nothing changed as of writing this) but the name Jeff Zients has leaked to the press. Now hey, that's not a name most people would know, and the chief of staff isn't exactly a position most Americans concern themselves with. This guy, however... hoo boy.

Zients is a guy that has actually worked with Biden in a way before. He worked for the Obama administration specifically. He was in charge of healthcare dot gov's rollout, back when "America is going to help people with healthcare!" was something we all got blueballed on. As people would recall, the site's rollout was something of a disaster in functionality. And here's the thing... it was probably Zients' fault. See, the guy has a work history in the private sector with the healthcare industry. So, yeah, we had a conflict of interest situation over a decade ago with this chucklefuck.

And now here we are, 2023, with this guy about to be chief of staff to the POTUS. His connections to private industry still alive. THIS is why I hate centrists; they don't see this as a problem, they see it as a strength. That oh, he'll convince his buddies to come to the table and not be as rich. Which never happens. Ever. I'm almost 40 years old and I am tired of this crap being sold to Americans over. And over. And over.

Here's your citation, the Associated Press. I'm going to slam my head in the freezer door for a bit.

#politics #president biden #joe biden #jeff zients

[inoppositionflorien]

There's many interesting reasons why corporations are making record profits currently that can't just be limited to "price gouging" (though that's happening too, for a limited definition of price gouging that often fails to understand what price gouging actually is) and many of which actually do involve inflation, but using the wrong scaling metric to understand what's going on tells a much more compelling story (corporations suddenly decided over the past few years NOW is the time to start gouging everyone. For some reason. And they didn't do this before because ??? shut up corporations are only infinitely greedy when it suits the narrative rather than always greedy and also always are making the decisions that are best for them, they never behave weirdly because they're run by people who aren't completely rational actors)

You see, from a period from the mid 00s to the late 10s, inflation was low, but companies barely responded to it at all, so they were gradually making less per unit. This is for many reasons, at least one of which is weirdly, frugality. When inflation is low and your product is sold to many consumers, it's often cheaper to not adjust prices and package size, because that's expensive. This state of affairs continued right up until the brief fairly strong (relative to the past) inflationary period during Covid.

Suddenly, it was financially viable to alter prices and package sizes, and so the companies did it all at once, producing the illusion of extremely sudden and massive inflation, when what actually happened was inflation had been going on for years, but many goods had not been responding to it. After years of 2% inflation that wasn't responded to, many goods were lagging in price relative to what they cost in the past (adjusted for inflation) by as much as 20-40%, because each year the company had either grown their market share so that they were apparently making more profit, which made the executives think there was no issue even as profit per unit declined. Wages were stagnant at the time so profit per unit declined far more slowly than it would have otherwise, further concealing the issue from anyone with the authority to raise prices, and presenting the illusion that this was a problem that could be dealt with later. (Even if one of them had caught on and thought to solve this lagging price, there was a prisoners dilemma situation where if one of them raised prices, competitors would be undercutting their prices without changing anything and thus steal marketshare.)

Covid changed this by many companies taking a sudden revenue hit, as Covid changed purchasing patterns and stimulus packages (including eviction stoppage) allowed workers to have enough financial security to consider unionization, which caused wages, stagnant for years, to rise for many companies. This increase in available money, both from the government and the companies being forced to buy labor at a higher price, also caused inflation. This changed the calculus, because suddenly everyone's taking a huge revenue hit, both nominal and real at the same time, and that leads to people wanting to take Bold Action and it looks bad to shareholders if they don't because there's no way to present this as a positive. Thus, many of the companies raised their prices to what these products arguably should have been closer to years ago, producing the illusion of sudden massive inflation when in practice, inflation was larger than normal during covid, but not massive.

The Record Profits however are interesting. Some of that is, probably, price gouging. However, most of it actually comes from inflation and then reporting profits in nominal dollars rather than adjusting for inflation (because "Record profits look at our huge graph spike" looks way better to shareholders than "we've been underperforming for years and only just recently circumstances aligned to make us both realize the true inflation-adjusted price of our products and be able to reveal the true price of our products, we are all trapped in a prison of market forces and game theory and most if not all financial management strategies are a myth and the future is essentially unknowable, but we're still a good investment we promise".)

To grossly oversimplify this, profits appear to be record because many companies are making something like 1.5 dollars for every dollar they were making before, but the thing is, adjusted for the inflation of covid plus the 2% annual inflation they weren't responding to for over a decade, they're actually around what their profits would be if they were able to freely adjust their prices and package size throughout the 00s and 10s, which, adjusted for inflation, would have made the past few years not particularly special in price-levels.

Essentially, companies are always greedy, and assuming they only chose recently to start being greedy is ahistorical. However, it is also incorrect to assume that companies are fully rational actors, because they are also subject to making decisions that feel good or look good rather than actively being the best decision, and can't always make those decisions because deviating from equilibrium can be harshly punished by market forces, and there needs to be a reason for many companies to deviate from that equilibrium at once.

#the florien gets political