#absolute minimum reports

[absoluteminimum]

the first draft of chapter 5 of Restoration is finished! It's in rough shape, but that's what the second draft and editing pass are for.

As promised, chapter 3 should drop sometime this week

here's a preview of the art for chapter 3

[veal-exe]

So here's what happened on Reddit:

A transmasc posted about how transmascs and trans men are often invisible, how our issues are dismissed, and how resources, especially medical ones, are almost always written with non transmascs in mind. They posted this both to r/Trans and r/lgbt.

A moderator of r/Trans responded by telling them to “stop bitching.” That’s the word they used. That’s the level of respect trans men get. Transandrophobic by the way, don't call trans men bitches.

The comment was deleted, quietly, after backlash. Then the entire post was removed. When asked why, a mod responded that the post was “playing oppression olympics,” and took the time to go through and dismiss each of the original poster’s points, including saying that trans men being sexually assaulted isn’t “unique to transmascs” and therefore not an issue, and claiming that access to testosterone isn’t any more restricted than access to estrogen, which is a straight-up lie, because T is a tightly controlled substance in most places and E is not.

The original poster was banned for three days.

Then a separate mod made a post saying, “nobody asked us our side of the story,” which is wild because people absolutely did, publicly and repeatedly. Users also started reporting that they’d had supportive comments removed or had been banned after disagreeing with the mods, some of those claims are still unconfirmed, but given the general behavior, it wouldn’t be surprising.

Then r/Trans locked down entirely. No new posts. The conversation was forcibly ended.

Some people posted about it on r/FTM, many of those posts were mass-reported, automatically removed by Reddit’s automod, or quietly buried. Meanwhile, r/lgbt also removed the original post, with no explanation.

One of the r/Trans mods eventually posted an “apology,” which was really just a soft-scrubbed PR post full of noncommittal language and distancing. They said they didn’t mean to call a trans man “a bitch,” they just used it synonymously with “complaining,” and they didn’t think about the implications until later even though the first post was about microaggressions just like the mod committed. They did not apologize for anything else, not for wrongfully banning people, not for accusing a transmasc venting like any other user of playing oppression olympics, nothing at all. They said they’re on break and can’t do anything about it. They said, and I quote, “please don’t be mad at the rest of the team.” even though the rest of the team are just as culpable for not stopping their behavior.

They also added that trans men are “a welcome part of the community” and tried to point at moderation history as proof. Because apparently we should be grateful that people occasionally get banned, every so often, for implying trans men aren't oppressed at all, wow, thanks, that is like below the bare minimum, cool.

The current state of things is: r/Trans has over 600,000 members, and trans men and transmascs were silenced, banned, and told to shut up for bringing up their own oppression. And the subreddit is locked down. There’s a mass exodus happening to the new sub, r/trans4every1, but let’s be real, the damage has already been done.

Now let’s talk about what this actually means.

This is not “just more Tumblr discourse.” This isn’t some random blog saying they don’t like transmascs. This isn’t a Twitter reply guy. This isn’t a niche zine or a spicy personal take. This is a massive trans-focused subreddit with over half a million users. It's easily one of the largest public facing trans community online, maybe even the largest, I've certainly never found a bigger one myself. And the moderation team made it crystal clear: they do not want transmascs to feel safe or welcome there.

This is what transandrophobia looks like on a slightly larger internet scale. When it’s in the hands of people who get to decide who gets heard and who gets deleted.

And for anyone who’s still stuck on “well they apologized” listen: trans men are told all the time that we’re being too loud, too angry, too entitled, too manly, too feminine, too confusing, too “binary,” too "Nonbinary", too much. We’re told that we’re “oppression olympics-ing” just for talking about our lives. And now we're getting banned and locked out of the spaces that claim to represent a huge portion of online trans people.

This isn't just online drama. This is a bellwether. And if it isn’t setting off alarms in your head, it should be.

The way transandrophobia manifests in online spaces absolutely bleeds into real life, into medical gatekeeping, into poor data collection, into the erasure of sexual violence against transmascs, into advocacy groups that write us out of the picture, into educational materials that treat us like footnotes, if they include us at all.

And if you’re sitting there thinking, “well it’s not that deep,” you’re part of the problem.

We need to start being more honest about this: Transandrophobia is real, it is widespread, and it is growing. We need to stop giving people the benefit of the doubt when they’ve shown us they don’t want us in the room.

And frankly?

We need to start making TRFs [Trans Radfems & transmasc-exclusionary feminists alike] deeply uncomfortable being open about their beliefs. We need to make them afraid to be TRFs, the way they’re trying to make us afraid to exist.

The same way we don’t coddle fascists. The same way we don’t tolerate TERFs. We need to stop tiptoeing around transandrophobia.

Because this growing wave of transandrophobia is going to kill people. Full stop.

Protect trans men. Protect transmascs. Protect your siblings; all of them!

Edit because I forgot to add it:

Another thing worth noting is that not only was r/trans deleting and banning any users and posts talking about the situation, they were deleting any posts talking about transmasc issues or transmasc positivity full stop.

Even when those posts had nothing to do with the current issue. They were being silenced. They were being actively erased, in a trans space.

[nyancrimew]

confession: two weeks ago my friends got sick of me slowly cooking to death in my self-pitying emotional soup of heartbreak, took me out for drinks, and installed a dating app on my phone. we are all in the same degree at uni (i'm 25 + i promise this is relevant), in a faculty that is extremely quaint and mostly comprised of academics married to people with normal jobs. two years ago a teacher-couple joined our program's faculty, a fact that caused a minor riot within the teaching staff, who thought it was unfair to give two of four tenured jobs to a couple... unfortunately for them both of these profs are extremely beloved among the students and very good teachers at that. even if you've never taken classes from either of them, you know about this couple and probably whatever rumors are going around about them too. i've taken classes w/ both.

anyway. back to me on the dating app in the bar with my friends, pretty drunk, swiping though my bumble suggestions. for extra fun, we have set the minimum age to 30 and the gender to include "both" even though i am a lesbian. the whole table is viciously tearing down dating profiles, investigating their pictures, etc. i go to the bar to get another round for the group, am about to pay for our drinks when i hear a virtual SHRIEK from our corner. i get back, dish our drinks out. my phone is in the middle of the table, untouched by anyone like it's a cursed object. i look at the screen. it's them, our teacher couple. they have a shared dating profile, stating that they are "looking for someone to explore her bisexuality with". lesbian readers will know that this is not exactly an uncommon profile type to find, but still, seeing it from people who have taught basically everything you know about 19th century literature is... quite something. so naturally i decide to swipe right before anyone can stop me.

maia, i am so proud to report: i fucked that man's wife, she was absolutely lovely, and we will see each other again, and i am currently taking another class from her husband where the vibe is more than chill. my friends have been sworn to secrecy, but i know it's only a matter of time before someone slips up and the rumor mill starts churning... but who cares? i haven't thought about my ex since!

OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT

[lay-z]

Since I’m currently melting at work, forced to endure this bloody heat wave for capitalism even though humans are supposed to be free and allowed to lay in the shade, eating juicy fruits and drinking cold coconut water—here have some blurbs that will hopefully lift all of our moods.   

cw: tf 141 x fem!reader; established romantic relationship; suggestive | 18+

Kyle positions all the fans tactically for maximum refreshment and coolness—rolling down the blinds and closing every curtain in your flat to get the temperature to a more humane one.  

Watch him build one of those bed sheet caves where he attaches one fan to it to have it inflate, so you and him can crawl inside with snacks and drinks, wearing nothing but underwear while watching a show on your trusted laptop, playing footsies for romantic and emotional support, because neither of you can bear any sticky skin on skin contact right now. 

He does lean in for the occasional smooch, though. Completely nonverbal, just expecting it, like a baby bird opening its mouth eagerly to receive a worm from mama.  

“Baby,” he chirps eventually between spoons of succulent pistachio ice cream and into the fifth episode of Game of Thrones (because you’re both trying to manipulate yourselves that it’s chilly outside whenever there are scenes in Winterfell). “Baby, can we take a cold shower together? I’m so sick of not touching you.”

The pout he shoots you next is so bloody adorable that you can’t help yourself but tackle him inside your little inflated cave, knocking over the fan as you play fight and laugh, getting tangled up in the thin sheets. 

John has the large pool in the backyard prepared for you, complete with deck chairs and an ice tub filled with drinks as soon as he’s checked the weather report for the whole week. 

There is no way he will let either you nor himself suffer in this heat—not with this backyard and not if he can prevent it. 

He takes you grocery shopping before it gets too hot, buys all the fancy stuff you’ll need for some fruity cocktails and some nice meat and vegetables to put on that expensive grill he rarely gets to use, along with the silly chef's apron you’ve gifted him some time ago. He wears it with pride, rocking it with some swim trunks, shirtless, his aviator shades and Boonie hat on.

The sun is burning, there are no clouds in sight, no breeze sweeping across the grass, but you and your husband are enjoying yourselves like you’re on a second honeymoon. 

And while he’s standing by the grill, giving the BBQ tongs two experimental clicks (as you do), he looks over at you with a fond smile and the look of growing desire behind his dark shades while you’re lounging in the sun, dewy skin glistening like diamonds with sweat and sunscreen. 

Perhaps this time you’ll allow him to get freaky with you in the pool later.  

Simon loves that you despise heat as much as he does—extremes in general. All his scars inflame and itch in hot weather, and they tighten and itch when it’s too cold. It doesn’t help that he’s sweaty as bloody hell, too. 

Spring and autumn, that’s when he doesn’t have too many problems with them—and those seasons happen to be your favorites, too. 

When the excruciating heat wave hits, your shared flat turns into a bat cave. The AC runs on its highest setting, everything is dark, and you both keep physical strain and activity as well as fabrics worn on your bodies to an absolute minimum. 

You’re lounging on the floor in the living room, fanning yourself with a colorful and handmade fan that Simon had picked up for you as a gift from an op back in Mexico, when he sneaks into the room, nudging your calf with his toes before grunting: “C’mon. Made somethin’ f’us, luv.”

Oh, you’d been wondering where he’s been for the past hour. 

He helps and lifts you up with ease when you reach out a hand to him with a soft groan, because everything is too much in this weather. 

And when he pulls you into the bathroom, you nearly cry in relief when you see the large tub filled with ice water, drinks on the side table that he’d carried in there, a laptop perched on the laundry basket within reach. 

“Date night.” He announces dryly, though you can hear the hint of a smile in his gruff voice as he tugs his boxer briefs down unceremoniously.  

Johnny doesn’t mind the heat much. In fact, he thoroughly enjoys walking around your shared flat shirtless—until his pants come off too, and suddenly he’s walking around butt naked, parading around the rooms wherever you happen to be like a proud cock with a matching (and very fluffy) coxcomb. 

“Really?!” you ask incredulously, spoon half-way at your mouth and dripping with cold milk when he strolls into the kitchen, soft and uncircumcised dick swinging between his meaty thighs. “In front of my cereal?”  

He barks out a laugh and opens the fridge to grab a water bottle while you can’t help but admire the curve of his muscular back and his unfairly plump ass.  

“Don’t act like ye dinnae like what ye’r seein’, baby.” He shoots you a wink and you huff with hot cheeks, stuffing a big spoonful of cereal into your mouth, mumbling: “Showoff.” 

You don’t know how exactly it happens, but Johnny coaxes you to join him in his nudist cult—ending up in bed together, no pillows or blankets on the mattress, just two sweaty lovers laying there like a couple of starfish as his hands begin to wander eventually, because they always do. Calloused fingers tracing the curve of your hip while sweat beads on your upper lip. 

“Johnny,” you growl, though it comes out more like a whine. “Stop. I feel disgusting.” Though that only elicits a wolfish grin from him. “Aye,” he snickers. “Lemme make an even bigger mess of us.” 

[fantastic-nonsense]

after some research to clarify statutes, here's where I generally fall on each of the Wayne kids' adoption status from a story perspective (note that this is not about their canon status, but what reasonably would happen given their individual situations):

Dick: Realistically, in the modern era Dick would be adopted basically immediately given his legal situation and Bruce's canonical willingness to adopt; the only reason he historically wasn't adopted was becasue single men weren't legally allowed to adopt minors (which is no longer the case). However, there are theoretically a few ways an author can justify Dick opting for permanent guardianship over adoption initially, like Dick asking Bruce to not adopt him because he didn't want to feel like he was replacing his parents in Batman: Year Three.

Jason: Jason is definitely adopted prior to his death, idk what 2011-2021 DC tries to say. There's no reasonable outcome for Jason's situation that isn't adoption even if (like in the post-Flashpoint universe prior to Jason's post-Crisis backstory being re-canonized in "Cheer") Willis was alive and didn't want to give up parental rights, since Jason was 11-ish and Willis's sentence was canonically 'twenty to life.' At absolute minimum 2011-2021!Bruce was Jason's permanent foster father or legal guardian with physical custody, with Willis retaining limited parental rights. However, the court wouldn't have protested Bruce's adoption application after Willis's apparent death, especially if Jason voiced a desire to be adopted.

Tim: Tim's adoption process should have been fairly smooth given that Tim was 16 at the time and very much able to voice his own opinions on his living situation and desired legal status to the court. There's also very little incentive for Tim to opt for foster care over adoption under the circumstances, though Bruce and Tim could likely easily arrange a kinship care situation with Bruce classified as fictive kin if for some reason adoption wasn't in the cards.

Cass: Cass is a legal grey area in general since she was already 17 when she met Bruce, has no birth certificate, and her parents were never legally established as being her biological parents, but there's no reason either legally or practically for her status to be anything other than adopted...especially since it was 100% certainly an adult adoption regardless of universe. There's no existing parental rights to consider or terminate from the court's perspective.

Damian is obviously Bruce's biological child, but given the circumstances of his birth and early childhood it's not only possible but highly probable that he doesn't have a legally recognized birth certificate when he comes to live with Bruce. While this is obviously forgable via Babs or Bruce himself, the more likely situation is that someone (probably Bruce's lawyers at Bruce's request) went to the State Department and registered Damian as a foreign birth abroad using Damian's positive paternity results as an identification method, providing him with a Consular Report of Birth Abroad to prove his American citizenship.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Random headcanon number 20207483927

-Dick doesn’t spy on his families teams

Because he doesn’t need too

They’ll either tell him what’s happening

Or their teammates will

He’s friends with 80% of them anyway

Jason Todd was honest to god on a team with Dicks Ex who still adores him and starfire /j

No but really Roy and Kori 100% have doxxed Jason’s entire life to Dick Grayson

A) bc I will ignore any canon where these 3 aren’t close

B) Kori has never had a filter ever

C) Dick absolutely has indoctrinated the fab 5 into mission reports and now they feel weird without a debrief

D) Roy would find giving Dick and ulcer over the stupid shit his brother does hilarious

E) Roy would find giving dick and ulcer over the stupid shit HE does so so so fulfilling (revenge)

Damian is on the Titans.

No matter what titans generation of titans it is they’re responding to Nightwings status report request, fully detailed in MLA format with a reference list following APA 7 guidelines

Dick does not have to worry about young justice despite the fact they are very much NOT snitches bc Tim absolutely calls Dick and Doxxes his entire life story to him once a week minimum

(See Tim telling Dick random shit in the comics causing him to lose his balance and fall a compilation Im sure exists)

Both Clark and Wally are on the justice league. Bruce’s every dangerous move is reported to Dick via Clark and all his stupid ones are reported to Dick via Wally.

No matter how weird Dick and Babs relationship (on again, besties, off again, not talking etc) is she’s absolutely telling him either via concise email or 7 hour long sip and bitch session every single thing that happens not for help but bc ughhh wtf is happening.

Now frustratingly the same is not reciprocated

Bc

“Donna or Garth would kill me�� -Roy

“*graphic details of sexcapades to distract from question*”-Kori

“Nightwing is busy” -oracle (babs just leaves when asked as a civilian)

“I’m sorry it’s just so hard to not talk to him okay?? He’s so nice” -Jon during supersons

“He’s my friend too, I can tell him what I want” current jon

“Listen he barely talks to me as it is I’d rather he still come to me with issues and insecurities without worrying his father will hear it” -Clark

“If you think I’m saying shit to you, you’re in idiot, if anything was wrong and I told you you’d make it worse go fuck yourself” -Wally

(OG Bruce Wayne hater of titans. him and Roy do fight over this title at the titans new years. Wally thinks Roy lost his place bc he found a new bird to be mad at the bat over so his timeline should shrink. Roy thinks this is bullshit bc now he hates Bruce for reasons of bird^2)

[blairdii]

the pope is dead. i sense mbs' downfall coming soon, so here are my rules *when* i become president of the fia

profanity is absolutely allowed. matter of fact, you must swear at least once on radio, and once in the media pen. i believe if you're not swearing, you're not being truthful about your feelings. honesty is, in fact, the best policy.

all drivers are entitled to 2 fights against any another driver per season, only applicable after the first 5 races. it's a good outlet, and it can't be done between australia and jeddah because then you're doing too much. let's calm down please. applications are done online, and drivers are allowed to reject offers. but they won't, i know these men.

all hate accounts on twitter will be deleted and reported to the users' current working/schooling institutions.

by 2030, half of the grid will be women. i will make sure of it

any statements pertaining to 'championship mindset' or 'mental weaknesses' are punishable by a 50k fine. thinking of those words will warrant a 25k fine because i'm nice.

NO, I REPEAT, NO PROBLEMATIC FIGURES ARE ALLOWED TO BE INVITED TO ANY RACES!!! idc who is inviting them, you both will be fined and the inviter will receive a 2-race ban. a 3-race ban will be inflicted on team principals who do such. stop setting people up.

secret santa gifts have to be MINIMUM £20. no vouchers, no coupons, no calendars. let's put some effort in guys, it's been a long ass year. drivers are rich enough anyways.

a team's chief strategist cannot be a driver's personal strategist. wtf.

pr captions are forbidden. the dichotomy between 'radio thoughts' and 'ig caption thoughts' are unacceptable. if you wanna call your team a mountain of pisstakes, sprinkled with bullshit shavings, please stand on business and do so.

if you disagree with any of these, you're not fun and you're getting a fine!!!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“The Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets”

This week only, Barnes and Noble is offering 25% off pre-orders of my forthcoming novel Picks and Shovels. ENDS TODAY!.

While we truly live in an age of ascendant monsters who have hijacked our country, our economy, and our imaginations, there is one consolation: the small cohort of brilliant, driven writers who have these monsters' number, and will share it with us. Writers like Maureen Tkacik:

https://prospect.org/topics/maureen-tkacik/

Journalists like Wired's Vittoria Elliott, Leah Feiger, and Tim Marchman are absolutely crushing it when it comes to Musk's DOGE coup:

https://www.wired.com/author/vittoria-elliott/

And Nathan Tankus is doing incredible work all on his own, just blasting out scoop after scoop:

https://www.crisesnotes.com/

But for me, it was Tkacik – as usual – in the pages of The American Prospect who pulled it all together in a way that finally made it make sense, transforming the blitzkreig Muskian chaos into a recognizable playbook. While most of the coverage of Musk's wrecking crew has focused on the broccoli-haired Gen Z brownshirts who are wilding through the server rooms at giant, critical government agencies, Tkacik homes in on their boss, Tom Krause, whom she memorably dubs "the Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" (I told you she was a great writer!):

https://prospect.org/power/2025-02-06-private-equity-hatchet-man-leading-lost-boys-of-doge/

Krause is a private equity looter. He's the guy who basically invented the playbook for PE takeovers of large tech companies, from Broadcom to Citrix to VMWare, converting their businesses from selling things to renting them out, loading them up with junk fees, slashing quality, jacking up prices over and over, and firing everyone who was good at their jobs. He is a master enshittifier, an enshittification ninja.

Krause has an unerring instinct for making people miserable while making money. He oversaw the merger of Citrix and VMWare, creating a ghastly company called The Cloud Software Group, which sold remote working tools. Despite this, of his first official acts was to order all of his employees to stop working remotely. But then, after forcing his workers to drag their butts into work, move back across the country, etc, he reversed himself because he figured out he could sell off all of the company's office space for a tidy profit.

Krause canceled employee benefits, like thank you days for managers who pulled a lot of unpaid overtime, or bonuses for workers who upgraded their credentials. He also ended the company's practice of handing out swag as small gifts to workers, and then stiffed the company that made the swag, wontpaying a $437,574.97 invoice for all the tchotchkes the company had ordered. That's not the only supplier Krause stiffed: FinLync, a fintech company with a three-year contract with Krause's company, also had to sue to get paid.

Krause's isn't a canny operator who roots out waste: he's a guy who tears out all the wiring and then grudgingly restores the minimum needed to keep the machine running (no wonder Musk loves him, this is the Twitter playbook). As Tkacik reports, Krause fucked up the customer service and reliability systems that served Citrix's extremely large, corporate customers – the giant businesses that cut huge monthly checks to Citrix, whose CIOs received daily sales calls from his competitors.

Workers who serviced these customers, like disabled Air Force veteran David Morgan, who worked with big public agencies, were fired on one hour's notice, just before their stock options vested. The giant public agency customers he'd serviced later called him to complain that the only people they could get on the phone were subcontractors in Indian call centers who lacked the knowledge and authority to resolve their problems.

Last month, Citrix fired all of its customer support engineers. Citrix's military customers are being illegally routed to offshore customer support teams who are prohibited from working with the US military.

Citrix/VMWare isn't an exception. The carnage at these companies is indistinguishable from the wreck Krause made of Broadcom. In all these cases, Krause was parachuted in by private equity bosses, and he destroyed something useful to extract a giant, one-time profit, leaving behind a husk that no longer provides value to its customers or its employees.

This is the DOGE playbook. It's all about plunder: take something that was patiently, carefully built up over generations and burn it to the ground, warming yourself in the pyre, leaving nothing behind but ash. This is what private equity plunderers have been doing to the world's "advanced" economies since the Reagan years. They did it to airlines, family restaurants, funeral homes, dog groomers, toy stores, pharma, palliative care, dialysis, hospital beds, groceries, cars, and the internet.

Trump's a plunderer. He was elected by the plunderer class – like the crypto bros who want to run wild, transforming workers' carefully shepherded retirement savings into useless shitcoins, while the crypto bros run off with their perfectly cromulent "fiat" money. Musk is the apotheosis of this mindset, a guy who claims credit for other peoples' productive and useful businesses, replacing real engineering with financial engineering. Musk and Krause, they're like two peas in a pod.

That's why – according to anonymous DOGE employees cited by Tckacik – DOGE managers are hired for their capacity for cruelty: "The criteria for DOGE is how many you have fired, how much you enjoy firing people, and how little you care about the impact on peoples well being…No wonder Tom Krause was tapped for this. He’s their dream employee!"

The fact that Krause isn't well known outside of plunderer circles is absolutely a feature for him, not a bug. Scammers like Krause want to be admitted to polite society. This is why the Sacklers – the opioid crime family that kicked off the Oxy pandemic that's murdered more than 800,000 Americans so far – were so aggressive about keeping their association with their family business, Purdue Pharma, a secret. The Sacklers only wanted to be associated with the art galleries and museums they put their names over, and their lawyers threatened journalists for writing about their lives as billionaire drug pushers (I got one of those threats).

There's plenty of good reasons to be anonymous – if you're a whistleblower, say. But if you ever encounter a corporate executive who insists on anonymity, that's a wild danger sign. Take Pixsy, the scam "copyleft trolls" whose business depends on baiting people into making small errors when using images licensed under very early versions of the Creative Common licenses, and then threatening to sue them unless they pay hundreds or thousands of dollars:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

Kain Jones, the CEO of Pixsy, tried to threaten me under the EU's GDPR for revealing the names of the scammer on his payroll who sent me a legal threat, and the executive who ran the scam for his business (I say he tried to threaten me because I helped lobby for the GDPR and I know for a fact that this isn't a GDPR violation):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/13/an-open-letter-to-pixsy-ceo-kain-jones-who-keeps-sending-me-legal-threats/

These people understand that they are in the business of ripping people off, causing them grave and wholly unjust financial injury. They value their secrecy because they are in the business of making strangers righteously furious, and they understand that one of these strangers might just show up in their lives someday to confront them about their transgressions.

This is why Unitedhealthcare freaked out so hard about Luigi Mangione's assassination of CEO Brian Thompson – that's not how the game is supposed to be played. The people who sit in on executive row, destroying your lives, are supposed to be wholly insulated from the consequences of their actions. You're not supposed to know who they are, you're not supposed to be able to find them – of course.

But even more importantly, you're not supposed to be angry at them. They pose as mere software agents in an immortal colony organism called a Limited Liability Corporation, bound by the iron law of shareholder supremacy to destroy your life while getting very, very rich. It's not supposed to be personal. That's why Unitedhealthcare is threatening to sue a doctor who was yanked out of surgery on a cancer patient to be berated by a UHC rep for ordering a hospital stay for her patient:

https://gizmodo.com/unitedhealthcare-is-mad-about-in-luigi-we-trust-comments-under-a-doctors-viral-post-2000560543

UHC is angry that this surgeon, Austin's Dr Elisabeth Potter, went Tiktok-viral with her true story of how how chaotic and depraved and uncaring UHC is. UHC execs fear that Mangione made it personal, that he obliterated the accountability sink of the corporation and put the blame squarely where it belongs – on the (mostly) men at the top who make this call.

This is a point Adam Conover made in his latest Factually podcast, where he interviewed Propublica's T Christian Miller and Patrick Rucker:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_5tDXRw8kg

Miller and Rucker published a blockbuster investigative report into Cigna's Evocore, a secret company that offers claims-denials as a service to America's biggest health insurers:

https://www.propublica.org/article/evicore-health-insurance-denials-cigna-unitedhealthcare-aetna-prior-authorizations

If you're the CEO of a health insurance company and you don't like how much you're paying out for MRIs or cancer treatment, you tell Evocore (which processes all your claim authorizations) and they turn a virtual dial that starts to reduce the number of MRIs your customers are allowed to have. This dial increases the likelihood that a claim or pre-authorization will be denied, which, in turn, makes doctors less willing to order them (even if they're medically necessary) and makes patients more likely to pay for them out of pocket.

Towards the end of the conversation, Miller and Rucker talk about how the rank-and-file people at an insurer don't get involved with the industry to murder people in order to enrich their shareholders. They genuinely want to help people. But executive row is different: those very wealthy people do believe their job is to kill people to save money, and get richer. Those people are personally to blame for the systemic problem. They are the ones who design and operate the system.

That's why naming the people who are personally responsible for these immoral, vicious acts is so important. That's why it's important that Wired and Propublica are unmasking the "pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" who are raiding the federal government under Krause's leadership:

https://projects.propublica.org/elon-musk-doge-tracker/

These people are committing grave crimes against the nation and its people. They should be known for this. It should follow them for the rest of their lives. It should be the lead in their obituaries. People who are introduced to them at parties should have a flash of recognition, hastily end the handshake, then turn on their heels and race to the bathroom to scrub their hands. For the rest of their lives.

Naming these people isn't enough to stop the plunder, but it helps. Yesterday, Marko Elez, the 25 year old avowed "eugenicist" who wanted to "normalize Indian hate" and could not be "[paid] to marry outside of my ethnicity," was shown the door. He's off the job. For the rest of his life, he will be the broccoli-haired brownshirt who got fired for his asinine, racist shitposting:

https://www.npr.org/2025/02/06/nx-s1-5289337/elon-musk-doge-treasury

After Krause's identity as the chief wrecker at DOGE was revealed, the brilliant Anna Merlan (author of Republic of Lies, the best book on conspiratorialism), wrote that "Now the whole country gets the experience of what it’s like when private equity buys the place you work":

https://bsky.app/profile/annamerlan.bsky.social/post/3lhepjkudcs2t

That's exactly it. We are witnessing a private equity-style plunder of the entire US government – of the USA itself. No one is better poised to write about this than Tkacik, because no one has private equity's number like Tkacik does:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

Ironically, all this came down just as Trump announced that he was going to finally get rid of private equity's scammiest trick, the "carried interest" loophole that lets PE bosses (and, to a lesser extent, hedge fund managers) avoid billions in personal taxes:

https://archive.is/yKhvD

"Carried interest" has nothing to do with the interest rate – it's a law that was designed for 16th century sea captains who had an "interest" in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

Trump campaigned on killing this loophole in 2017, but Congress stopped him, after a lobbying blitz by the looter industry. It's possible that he genuinely wants to get rid of the carried interest loophole �� he's nothing if not idiosyncratic, as the residents of Greenland can attest:

https://prospect.org/world/2025-02-07-letter-between-friendly-nations/

Even if he succeeds, looters and the "investor class" will get a huge giveaway under Trump, in the form of more tax giveaways and the dismantling of labor and environmental regulation. But it's far more likely that he won't succeed. Rather – as Yves Smith writes for Naked Capitalism – he'll do what he did with the Canada and Mexico tariffs: make a tiny, unimportant change and then lie and say he had done something revolutionary:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/02/is-trump-serious-about-trying-to-close-the-private-equity-carried-interest-loophole.html

This has been a shitty month, and it's not gonna get better for a while. On my dark days, I worry that it won't get better during my lifetime. But at least we have people like Tkacik to chronicle it, explain it, put it in context. She's amazing, a whirlwind. The same day that her report on Krause dropped, the Prospect published another must-read piece by her, digging deep into Alex Jones's convoluted bankruptcy gambit:

https://prospect.org/justice/2025-02-06-crisis-actors-alex-jones-bankruptcy/

It lays bare the wild world of elite bankruptcy court, another critical conduit for protecting the immoral rich from their victims. The fact that Tkacik can explain both Krause and the elite bankruptcy system on the same day is beyond impressive.

We've got a lot of work ahead of ourselves. The people in charge of this system – whose names you must learn and never forget – aren't going to go easily. But at least we know who they are. We know what they're doing. We know how the scam works. It's not a flurry of incomprehensible actions – it's a playbook that killed Red Lobster, Toys R Us, and Sears. We don't have to follow that playbook.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/07/broccoli-hair-brownshirts/#shameless

[nutmegtales]

Fucking Clowns - Part 5 in n out

Dick was in, the moment he saw the call from Jason, he was in. Was this reckless? Sure, dangerous? Absolutely, illegal? Yeah, most things they did were. But honestly when Jason asked, when he practically begged, when he said please like that all raw and pleading. I mean really what was Dick gonna say, no? Fuck that, his baby bird needed him and he sure as shit was gonna show up.

Jason had thought Tim would be a hard sale what with the whole murder attempt and everything. He'd hesitated and worried to try and bring in anyone more than Dick, but big bird was right, they'd need all the help they could get on this. And so he'd reached out, all the bridges he couldn't repair for himself he would try to repair enough to pull this off. It had been hard to set aside all the grudges and frustration and hurt he felt towards the others, especially Tim, but after Jason had given all the facts the kid had actually taken the time to consider it. He'd done his own research, pulling up all the Arkham files, watching the footage, reading the reports, attempted to track the identity. He'd been thorough, and methodical, and then he'd surprised Jason by calling him back the next day and saying he was in.

As the plan unfolded the other bats and birds were gently brought in on the plan, excluding the Batman himself. For the most part the others were asked to play distraction to keep B and A from catching wind of what they were doing. They'd find out eventually, 'course they would, but they'd all mostly agreed Bruce did not need to be anywhere near this until the kid had been made safe, and determined to be safe for them.

Tim made his way into the systems at Arkham, following the clumsy digital steps of something he'd identified as an entity that goes by GIW. He made a note to follow up on what that might be and why they might have been clumsily trying to hack their way into Arkham. He used their presence to mask his own as he took control of the subsystem they'd need for this operation.

The lights cut out in Ward A, the generator kicking in a few seconds later but the left side wing stayed plunged in darkness as an electrical fault delayed it's return to full power.

Two figures made their way through the dark minimum security area uninterrupted. Their path plotted carefully to avoid the patients and employees on the way.

The lock takes barely a second, and there's only a moment of hesitation before the unresponsive body of the rooms resident is carefully scooped into strong arms and carried away.

It was hardly 5 minutes after the initial black out that Tim reset and checked all the Arkham systems ensuring no one else was misplaced, carefully erasing any trace he had ever been there. The only thing they left behind was a now empty bed in the cell of one Danny Smith.

---

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If you enjoyed this post please leave a comment, I really love getting them! If you're not sure what to say just comment a lil emoji, I'd love to get one of these guys ❤️🥹🔥☠️😯, or one you feel suits the post.

[delulujuls]

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

[absoluteminimum]

I wanna try to start doing daily doodles? Morning or evening idk, but I want to TRY to do them, hopefully even when (if) my brain switches to writing mode (one day). Thing is I suck at ideas so I'm probably gonna end up drawing Minimus in the same pose every day or something so!

I will be taking suggestions (I know I've been drawing a ton of minimus lately but it doesn't necessarily have to be him I guess)

[localboobsenjoyer]

Breast boss 2

This ending for Breast Boss has been written by the great jorgetk9. Go follow him on DeviantArt; he writes many stories of this caliber on his page.

Stacey had become an overpowering presence since her body "adapted" to the demands of the company. She walked the halls like an untouchable goddess, each step resonating with an authority that made other women flinch. Their glances, filled with envy or fear, faded at the superiority she exuded. Not only had she kept her position; her promotion to head of the women's department had made her the driving force of the company. Her area surpassed any other in efficiency, a testament to her absolute dominance. Every time she approached your office in human resources, bringing reports she could have delegated to any subordinate, the air became thick, charged with an almost palpable energy. Her breasts, now doubled in size thanks to that girl's mysterious "donation," challenged the strength of her new tight dress. The fabric, designed to contain her, dug deep into her cleavage, and with each passing week, she seemed to be losing the battle. The edges of the dress stretched to the limit, revealing the taut skin that spilled over the sides, while the contours of her curves seemed to redefine the laws of physics.

"Here's the report," she said in a velvety voice, placing the papers on your desk as her arm deliberately brushed against one of her colossal breasts, sending a ripple of movement through the taut fabric. She adopted a dominant pose, hands on her hips, further emphasizing her figure. "So, do you have what I asked for?" Her tone was a mix of command and seduction, impossible to ignore.

You made a superhuman effort to maintain your composure, but your eyes surrendered to the sight of her cleavage. Stacey, fully aware of her power, seemed to enjoy every glance. Her breasts, enhanced by the tight-fitting dress policy, were a masterpiece you couldn't help but admire. "They look... even fuller than last week," you managed, struggling to maintain a minimum of professionalism.

She let out a low, almost feline laugh. "Oh, they are. And I'm fascinated by them." His hands slowly moved up to her breasts, squeezing them with a calculated pressure that made the fabric creak and a soft moan escape her lips, echoing sensually in the office. "I didn't just inherit her size and sensitivity. Also her growth potential. This," he said, moving her bust with a hypnotic sway, "will continue to grow for a couple more years." The fabric of her dress, on the verge of collapse, revealed taut, smooth skin that seemed to vibrate with new energy. "Now, back to business. Is she here?" he asked, his voice laden with dark complicity.

"Yes... she's about to come in," you replied, just as the door opened. A 21-year-old woman entered, her tight dress highlighting a voluptuous figure: large breasts, though nowhere near the splendor of Stacey's, wide hips, and robust thighs, marked by recent motherhood. "Excuse me, you told me to come here at this time for the interview," she murmured, clearly intimidated by Stacey's commanding presence.

"I'll interview you," Stacey announced, her smile sharp as a knife. After a series of routine questions, her tone changed, becoming more pointed. "And are you a mother?" she asked, staring at the girl like a predator assessing its prey.

"Yes, ma'am... but that doesn't affect my performance," the young woman replied nervously. Suddenly, her blouse began to dampen, dark stains spreading across the fabric. "No, not again," she moaned, covering herself with her hands in embarrassment.

"Even better," Stacey whispered, her eyes glowing with an almost supernatural hunger. "You'd better turn around," she ordered with an authority that brooked no argument. You obeyed instantly.

A blinding flash lit up the office, followed by a guttural moan that seemed to come from deep within Stacey. The unmistakable sound of ripping fabric filled the air, accompanied by a crackling that seemed to defy reality itself. When you turned, the sight took your breath away. Stacey was in ecstasy, one hand instinctively sliding to her crotch as her body transformed before your eyes. Her already monumental breasts grew at least four sizes, snapping the straps of her dress like they were fragile threads. The fabric gave way completely, releasing a pair of swollen, perfectly round breasts that continued to expand with every second. Her skin, taut and glistening, throbbed with an almost palpable energy, while subtle veins began to outline beneath the surface, pulsing as if fueling her massive growth. Her areolas widened, their pinkness darkening to a deeper, almost hypnotic hue, while her nipples thickened to the thickness of quarters, erect and quivering.

But it wasn't just her bust. Her hips, already generous, widened even further, taking on a maternal curve that seemed designed to seduce and dominate. The fabric of the dress, unable to contain them, tore at the side seams, revealing soft, smooth skin that expanded with every movement. Her thighs, now thicker and more robust, tensed beneath the dress, tearing at the lower seams until the fabric was in tatters. Every inch of her body seemed to absorb a primal energy, a "milf" force that transformed her into a figure of fertility and power. Her hips swayed with a hypnotic cadence, as if each new inch of flesh were imbued with a maternal sensuality that made her even more irresistible.

Then her nipples began to quiver, and tiny white drops oozed out, sliding down the curve of her breasts. Lactation wasn't just a detail; it was a manifestation of her new essence. The veins pulsing beneath her skin seemed to stimulate a milk production that grew with every second, her bust swelling even more, as if designed to nourish and dominate. With a final moan, Stacey threw her head back, and a burst of breast milk shot out, spraying your face with unexpected warmth. The liquid, sweet and thick, enveloped your senses. Instinctively, you ran a finger down your cheek and tasted it, marveling at its intoxicating sweetness, as if each drop contained the very essence of the maternal energy Stacey had absorbed. You turned toward the now open door and heard the sobs of the young woman being interviewed as she fled, her figure diminished, as if drained of more than just her presence. The door closed on its own, and your eyes returned to Stacey. Her breasts, hips, and thighs, now even more voluptuous, had destroyed what was left of the dress. Drops of milk continued to slide down her skin, leaving a glistening trail that seemed to highlight each new curve. "Just what I wanted," she said, still flushed from the ecstasy of the transformation, her voice thick with triumph. "I'll keep growing for a couple more years, and this milk flow... it's only going to increase." Her words were infused with fierce pride, as if her body were a trophy of her newfound power.

Suddenly, her eyes fixed on you, glowing with an intensity that made you shudder. "You know, this milf energy I absorbed... it's awakened something in me," she said, her voice low and thick with desire. "I have an overwhelming urge to breastfeed, to share this with someone who will appreciate it." She pulled out one of her breasts, the nipple dripping with a white pearl that slid slowly over her skin. She moved closer, leaning down until her bust was inches from your face, and winked. "What do you say?"

You couldn't resist. You lunged at her, your lips finding her nipple as you suckled with an almost desperate intensity. The sweet, warm taste of her milk flooded your mouth, each swallow intensifying the connection to the maternal energy that now defined Stacey. She moaned, her hands caressing your head as her body trembled with pleasure, her hips rocking slightly as if breastfeeding unleashed waves of ecstasy. Her thighs, now thicker and more powerful, tensed with each spasm, and her breasts seemed to swell even more, responding to your fervor with a steady flow of milk that enveloped you in its warmth. Stacey didn't just feed you; she dominated you, her new maternal essence transforming her into a figure of absolute power.

End.

[optimysticals]

TL:DR - Our van was stolen again. She's been found, but we need financial help to get her fixed and home from California. Links to help at the end.

Hi friends.

We're sharing this because 2025 is making it clear that we need help.

This last weekend Adrian was in L.A. for Gallifrey One, and on the way to the show Sunday morning he and his helper planned on stopping by our van.

Only, our van, the Iris, wasn't there.

The Iris has been stolen twice before, during the 3 years she was also our home, so Adrian immediately went into a panicked trauma spiral.

His amazing friends at the convention stepped in. His helper and another friend opened the booth while he talked to hotel security confirming the van was removed from the closed lot at about 3am.

They continued to run the booth while he went across town to the closest police station to file a police report (because you can't do it over the phone). Since the van was registered to Mikka he had to video call so the officer could confirm Adrian was allowed to have been driving it and could file the police report. There was also the fun of California not being able to access Oregon's DMV information.

Intermittently during the filing process Adrian was able to secure a rental van so that when the convention ended we had somewhere to put all our stock and displays, and a way to get home. It came out to $1750.

Adrian's friend went to get the rental after he got back from the police station.

Word had gone around the vendors and our booth neighbor took up a collection. We often say Gally is family, and this was absolute proof of that fact. The collection took a chunk out of the rental cost and really made it feel less hopeless.

The Monday plan was to start driving back to Portland, and when they got home then planning could start for how to get our booth to ECCC.

Shortly before Adrian stopped for the night Mikka got the call from the LAPD that the Iris had been recovered, and impounded.

So now while Adrian finishes driving home we are coordinating a mechanic to fix at minimum the door lock and ignition that had both been drilled out, but also possibly other damage that we won't know until the mechanic can get to it.

The mechanic can't get to it till Thursday, which means we have to pay impound fees for 4 days, plus the tow to the impound lot, and the tow to the mechanic. The estimate for that portion is $500-600.

Assuming the Iris isn't horribly damaged the repairs should be done by Monday. We can get Mikka a flight down to LAX for between $50-$250, depending on what's available when we book it (we don't want to book until the mechanic has looked at the Iris and confirmed they can fix everything).

From there Mikka will just need to drive our van home and cover about 3 tanks of gas.

We're looking at anywhere from $850 to $1150 before repair costs (and not including the $1750 rental), which we figure could be $150 or could be $1000 (who even knows with car repairs). And we need to do this all in the next week so that the Iris is home and safe for ECCC the week after.

And it sucks but we need help. We got about $300 from our lovely vendor friends, and that really did help. But were hoping our wider community might be in a position to help as well.

We just don't have the spoons to do a gofundme so if you can help our CashApp is $AdrianElliot, PayPal is wonderwoman@optimysticalastudios.com, Venmo is @AdrianElliot13, and you can also buy stuff from the website if you want goods in exchange for coin. And if you're not in a place to help financially, sharing this will help too.

[heartofbusan]

Unearth from the realms of the private, it will now be seen in public. The public be damned.

Seeing as South Korea is still living in the Middle Ages when it comes to LGBTQI acceptance, it makes sense for it to have many similarities with the norms from early nineteenth century United States. When being queer was a crime punishable by law.

This week saw a Vanity Fair article published about the private relationship between Carey Grant and Randall Scott. It caught my immediate attention for the similarities it had with Jikook and the way a lot of people view that relationship.

Are they/aren't they?

If people even dare to question the possibility of two people of the same sex being more than just friends, siblings or colleagues 😒

In the Grant/Scott and Jikook relationships, there is a similar layer of danger surrounding any form of 'confirmation' of the real nature of it, yet both sets of men were/are anything but subtle about how they feel about each other and their behavior towards one another.

I recommend you read the article, especially if you're of a certain age and have never heard of Carey Grant, who was immensely famous in his time. He was truly one of the biggest stars in Hollywood at that time, and, like so many closeted celebrities, he was also markedly heterosexual in the eyes of his biggest fans. Yet, so much of what he showed between the lines in his relationships did not conceal his true nature.

He lived together with Randall Scott under the guise of two up and coming young actors, both bachelors sharing a living space in order to save up. It's mind-boggling how, as his popularity grew, the industry forced Grant into a marriage while, on the other hand, he himself was toeing the line of nearly blurting for all to hear that he was queer. Unashamedly, so, I might add.

And yet, it remained a secret, and Scott and Grant never confirmed what was blindingly obvious to those who knew them.

Some choice quotes

“They go every place together and even share the same house." 👀

"Yet none of that—the debates over gay or bi or straight, who witnessed what and when, the coding of certain photoshoots—approaches the question of what Grant and Scott meant to one another, or how this relationship shaped who they became both privately and on-screen."

"...paint a unique portrait of cohabitation, codependency, and love—platonic at minimum, and very possibly romantic."

“Cary is the gay (in the merry sense of the word), impetuous one. Randy is serious, cautious,” he wrote. “Cary is temperamental in the sense of being very intense. Randy is calm and quiet. He must know a person for some time before he can break down and be absolutely natural.” At the time, the word temperamental was used among queer people to identify themselves. 👀

"They remained boldly public amid loudening whispers." 👀 👀 👀

Grant eventually married a woman who MOVED IN WITH GRANT AND SCOTT

You read that correctly: The boys were still living together. “Randy Scott has been constantly with us—the three of us get along so well,” Cherrill said, presumably through gritted teeth. (She’d eventually put her foot down and live with Grant alone until they divorced.) The “impetuous” Grant that Silver Screen had profiled a year earlier was nowhere to be found. After rambling through a defense of the three-way living arrangement—“It’s so huge Randy couldn’t possibly be in our way”—Grant asked the reporter if the dynamic was unconventional. When she assured him it was not, “Cary seemed so relieved.

It's crazy how we're now in 2025, and people still have to hide their sexuality, their lover, their partner, out of fear for discovery and what that might mean for their career and lives. Yes, I think it's completely valid to want to have a semblance of privacy when so much of your life is known by complete strangers

"You already know everything there is to know about us.."

It does not follow that they want to hide and conceal the ONE person who makes them feel whole. To say 'fuck it, deal with it',

'SO WHAT'

The boldness we've increasingly seen from jikook, their voices that bend around their affection, the touching that speaks on intimacy, the living/travelling/public/private arrangements that speak of their need to be domestic partners together, all of those things are signs that the 'so what' is coming to the surface.

[eucatastrophicblues]

imho the problem with all of the sex scandals, including the ones that inspired the creation of this intensely controversial Washington state law, is twofold

first, the seal of the confession is sacrosanct for a reason, but I think it’s extremely obvious in this case that many Sudden Relocations or Mysterious Reassignments are a direct result of priests becoming aware of the sexual sins of other priests while bound by the seal of confession. the correct answer to this is to encourage victims to come forward in non-confessional settings - this is how many of the priests I’ve known handle sexual abuse when it comes up in confession - and act from there. this should be the absolute bare minimum standard. confession and then a private chat not under the seal. doing this would solve all the problems and allow everyone to be mandated reporters. it would be a massive step forward. but even getting the church to acknowledge that much is difficult because

second, the church is real bad at admitting to its own capacity to cause harm. we’re getting apologies for the genocides in the Americas and the Caribbean 400 years later. some apologies toward Jewish people were put forward in the 20th century, also hundreds of years after the worst offenses. that’s too long. that’s way too fucking long. this is an institution striving and failing to live up to ideals, and we should be more earnest about admitting that. when we do get things wrong we should own up to being wrong. and this includes apologizing to victims and cultivating a culture of prioritizing safety and stopping the abuse.

however

third, a lot of Protestants and non-Christians get very comfortable believing that they don’t have endemic sexual abuse in their own circles. the truth is that every single group with any kind of hierarchy of power and control breeds sexual abuse. military chains of command? cliques and friend groups? organizations with a chair and underlings? congregationalist churches with charismatic pastors? cults? workplaces with intense discipline? tightly-knit families? all of those breed sexual abuse. sorry. they just do. even communities of neighbors on the same block can normalize and perpetuate horrific abuses against a designated victim. look up the Sylvia Likens murder.

if you’re not Catholic you don’t get to pretend this is a problem that doesn’t involve you. sorry. you’re a human so it involves you.

[kedreeva]

person behind the peafowl price ask: just wanted to add that I wasn't meaning to imply anything like... heartless about the birds, I was just curious because of the fact there are bigger breeders, so I was trying to figure out how they stay afloat, and if that was super different from more... 'hobbyist' keepers I guess? I don't know how else to term you lol

(Thank you for answering my question by the way!)

no no, that's how I took it!

the bigger breeders stay afloat by cutting corners, and skimping on care. Just flat out, they do.

One of the biggest breeders in the USA keeps most of his breeders in 10x20 pens (fyi the minimum ethical pen space is 500 square feet..... that's not even half the ethical standard). They buy food in bulk, whatever is cheapest. Brad Legg sells 6 packs of "random" day-old peachicks (all the blues he doesn't want from his mixed pens) knowing full well that anyone ordering a random 6 pack of peachicks knows fuck all about peachicks and will likely kill them off while they're still super fragile (if they don't die in shipping). They don't really do vet work if they don't absolutely have to, they breed way more birds than they have room to house, and they aren't at all picky about who buys from them (for example, not caring at all if the new home has any idea how to care for a peafowl), because a dead bird means another sale, since the new keeper will be told it was their fault. They will take unwanted birds to auction, where they will sometimes fetch some insane prices because people going to auctions don't know how else to get them, and often the birds injure themselves quite severely at auction events because the auctioneers are not trained in handling peafowl. I've seen so many reports of broken legs or broken wings from auctions. Not even people I generally like are free from this kind of poor care! I genuinely like Bill and i think he generally does love his birds and wants to take care of them and STILL, I have a footless wonder in my living room because Bill used smaller wood for roosts than he should have, and didn't get vet care done.

if you can't tell, I may have opinions on large scale peafowl farms.

Anyway, to answer your new question- I would be considered a small scale breeder, or a hobby breeder, depending on who you ask.