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spaceycat · 4 months ago

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MOREEEE CONGRESSMAN!BUCKY HEADCANONS !!!

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⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ... ╰┈➤ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ༄.°

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: sports car by tate mcrae (2:45)

guys why the fuck do i keep finding the filthy gifs anyways anways MOVING FOWARD!!

✰ whenever you two are fucking in his office, he lets you bite his tie or his dogtags to keep you quiet - it never works though.

✰ the kinda guy to use a remote-controlled vibrator on you during a congress meeting and using A LOT of innuendos in his speech and loves to watch you squirm, he knows you're going to yell at him later for it.

✰ He likes to spoil you, since he has problems showing his feelings though the whole hydra situation - so buying you clothes, jewlerry or anything that you even remotely look at makes him so happy.

✰ But one time you felt bad and didnt want to spend his money, telling him you didnt really like anything - he'd pass you his credit card, "okay listen, with how much you spend, the softer i'm gonna fuck you when we get home - okay? I might even eat you out if you're good." AND YOU RANNNNNNN YOU RANN TO PRADA !! he fulfilled his promise and you got a shit ton of clothes and food and hey - bucky got a meal too ig....

✰ You love to whisper filthy shit in his year at fundraiser and award events when you know he's about to go on stage to get an award or a speech LOL

✰ Whenever he's driving he has a hand on the inside of your thigh, lord and his car is EXPENSIVE... like doctor strange in his movie, lord minus the crashing part..

✰ He loves to fuck you in the backseat of his car, finger you while he's driving telling you to keep your eyes in front. One time you came back from a fundraiser, and you were stressed out with the whole planning thing and how it all went to shit - Bucky sighed, pulling off his tie and moving over to your side of the car, sinking down to his knees infront of you and ate you out while looking up at you LORD. HAVE. MERCY.

✰ You used to be shy, sweet and innocent before Bucky. Wearing lacy lingerie and underwear underneath your dresses for the sole purpose of knowing you're wearing them and that Bucky will find out, sending him pictures or videos when he's on meetings or away of you fingering yourself or riding a dildo and just saying that you wish it was his, and ALWAYS sneaking into his office to just get off and he fucking loves it.

✰ He takes you on every campaign, buys the best hotel rooms, with large baths, pools, spas, hot-tubs, with endless amounts of food and champagne at your beck and call. And buying you dresses for every campaign session and event.

✰ He loves to see how many times he can fuck you before you have to leave for your next flight or event, "C'mon baby, cum one more time and then you can go shake hands with the Government" (oh lord now i want to write a fic about this.

✰ Whenever you help him write his speeches, you sit in his lap on his desk chair - you're fine until he sits his head on your shoulder placing soft kisses to your neck as his fingers slip down your pants, toying with your clit "Keep working baby.." "I need more stimulating ideas."

✰ You two are filthy, and yet no one will know - soon being Mr President and his First Lady.. (reminds me of those pictures of prince harry and meghan markle when they partied hardy LOLLLL)

#headcanons #marvel headcanons #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes #marvel au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #x reader #smut #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #spaceycat

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 months ago

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Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?”

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!”

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really.

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations.

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them.

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers.

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him.

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it.

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah.

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes.

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before.

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd.

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears.

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft.

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him.

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer.

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes.

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs.

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again.

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands.

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too.

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too.

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back.

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong.

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder.

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die.

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard.

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield.

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away.

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means.

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

#robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #robert reynolds #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#the new avengers

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mandoalorian · 4 months ago

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mile high club [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: When you and the Congressman cross professional boundaries, Bucky finds it hard to keep his hands off you, but you still worry that he sees you as a distraction to his upcoming campaign.

Word Count: 1700

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, p in v, fingering, just general filth, smidge of plot.

Author's note: this was written because it was highly requested. if people enjoy the way i write for congressman!bucky, i am happy to turn this into a series of smutty one shots. but please let me know! if i don't know i can't do it. thanks! <3

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The hum of the jet engine filled the private cabin, a low, steady sound that did nothing to settle the tension crackling between you and Bucky. The air up here felt thinner, charged with something you couldn’t name—something you hadn’t been able to shake since earlier that evening, when he had kissed you breathless in his office, his hands tangled in your hair, his body pressed flush against yours.

For years, it had been strictly professional. You prided yourself on that. You were Bucky Barnes’ personal assistant, the woman who kept his schedule tight, his image pristine, his affairs in order. He was a congressman, after all—one of the most powerful men in Washington, and you had always been painfully aware of the stakes. Of what would happen if you blurred the lines.

But you had always noticed him, too. The way his sleeves strained against his forearms, the rasp in his voice when he was exhausted, the rare smirk that made your stomach tighten. You had harboured your crush in silence, burying it under professionalism, refusing to acknowledge it. Until tonight.

That had been only hours ago. Since then, you had barely spoken, but the weight of what had happened lingered between you. Now, on this flight to Tokyo, where the air was warm, the whiskey in your glass burned sweet, and Bucky Barnes looked at you like he was ready to devour you whole, the tension was unbearable. You, on the other hand, were looking everywhere but him, afraid to catch your boss’ line of sight. You weren’t scared of him — no. As a matter of fact, you were probably one of the only people in the world who was not scared of the ex-Winter Soldier because you saw Bucky for who he really was: a man who wanted to implement change and focus on the greater good.

He sat across from you, his tie loosened, his blue eyes dark as he watched you sip your drink. He looked at ease��relaxed, even. But you knew him better than that. There was a tension in his jaw, a hunger in the way his fingers tapped idly against the armrest.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, his voice smooth, controlled.

You smirked, setting your glass down on the polished table between you. “You’ve been busy, Congressman.”

His lips twitched, amusement flickering across his face before he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “That’s not what I meant.” Bucky murmured, reaching out to trail a single finger along the exposed skin of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in its wake.

Your breath hitched. The warmth of his touch sent a slow, deliberate ache between your legs, and God, you wanted to fight it. You wanted to be strong, to resist. But it was impossible when he looked at you like that—like he knew exactly what he was doing to you, exactly how you would come undone for him.

“Bucky— you should really rehearse your speech for the Tokyo conference…” your words trailed off, not a single part of you meaning them, displaying every effort to keep your boss hard at work and not helplessly distracted by you. You felt a familiar heat between your legs as his pupils blew black and he looked up at you with lust.

Wearily, you called his name again and it was barely a whisper before he was in front of you, his large hands gripping the arms of your chair, caging you in. His cologne wrapped around you—clean, woodsy, intoxicating. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, lips inches from yours. “Tell me, and I will.”

You should have. You knew you should have.

Instead, you lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with a challenge. “You’re not very good at following orders, Congressman.”

His lips parted, a low groan slipping from them before his mouth crashed into yours. He loved when you called him that, and you knew it. The kiss was slow at first—hot, teasing, meant to drive you insane. But when you sighed into him, his patience snapped. His hands were on you, dragging you up, pressing you against the cool leather wall of the cabin, his hips flush against yours.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled, kissing a hot trail down your neck, his fingers working the buttons of your blouse.

You arched into him, your hands raking through his hair, tugging at his tie. “Then it’s mutual.”

Bucky chuckled darkly, nipping at your pulse point before spinning you around, pressing your front against the wall. His hands roamed lower, lower, hiking your skirt up.

“You ever done this before?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Thirty-five thousand feet in the air?”

You gasped as his fingers slid beneath your panties, tracing the slick heat waiting for him. “No.”

His smirk was wicked against your skin. “Guess I get to ruin you all over again.”

Bucky didn’t waste time. His fingers teased, tracing lazy circles over your sensitive skin before pressing into you, stretching you, filling you so deliciously slow you nearly whimpered. His other, Vibranium hand, came up to cover your mouth, muffling the sound as his lips brushed over your ear.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice thick with control he was barely holding onto. “Wouldn’t want the pilot to hear, would we?”

You remembered how just hours earlier, you were nearly walked in on, and heat coiled deep in your stomach, your nails digging into the leather wall as Bucky worked you open, curling his fingers just right, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth moved along your shoulder, kissing, nipping, soothing, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he murmured, his fingers plunging deeper, his thumb circling in just the right way. “Falling apart for me. Only for me.”

You bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet as the pleasure built, hot and overwhelming. Your knees threatened to buckle, but Bucky held you firm, his body a solid, unyielding force against you.

“Bucky—” your voice was barely a breath, a plea, and he groaned, twisting his fingers just so, sending you tumbling over the edge.

The world blurred, heat surging through you, white-hot pleasure crashing down in waves as Bucky swallowed every sound, pressing kisses to the back of your neck as you trembled in his arms.

As the aftershocks faded, he slowly withdrew, his hands smoothing over your hips, grounding you. But he wasn’t done.

A rough hand tilted your chin, his lips claiming yours in a slow, heated kiss before he hoisted you onto the polished table, nudging your legs apart with his knee. His breath was warm against your lips as he smirked. “What do you want, doll? Come on, use your words for me.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. “I want you to fuck me, Congressman.” You said it without shame and just sheer desperation.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he grabbed your hips, dragging you to the edge of the table. The sound of fabric rustling filled the cabin, the cool air brushing against your fevered skin as he freed himself.

His thick length pressed against your entrance, teasing, stretching you just enough to make you squirm. His thumb found your clit, circling lazily, coaxing another desperate whimper from your lips.

“Patience,” he murmured, watching you with dark, hungry eyes as he inched inside, sinking into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

The stretch was exquisite, overwhelming, stealing the breath from your lungs. You clung to him, nails raking down his back as he filled you completely, groaning at the way your body clenched around him.

“Fuck,” he ground out, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel—Jesus, you feel perfect.”

He pulled back only to snap his hips forward again, the force making the table creak beneath you. You gasped, your back arching, pleasure sparking along every nerve ending as he set a slow, punishing rhythm, dragging out every ounce of pleasure until you were a trembling, desperate mess beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the way your lips parted, your breath coming in ragged pants. “Taking me so well. So fucking sweet for me.”

You whimpered as he angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you, sending stars exploding behind your eyes. Your fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting into the firm muscle.

“Bucky—please—”

He grinned, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Please what?”

Your head fell back as he rolled his hips again, slow and deep, leaving you gasping. “Please—I need—”

His smirk darkened as he drove into you harder, faster, the intensity building, the pleasure unbearable. “Say it,” he growled against your throat. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you choked out, hands fisting in his shirt. “Need you. Need to come.”

He groaned, his movements turning rougher, desperate, his fingers slipping between you to work your clit, pushing you closer, higher—

Until you shattered, pleasure ripping through you in waves, leaving you breathless, boneless, clinging to him as he followed with a low, guttural moan, spilling inside you, his body shuddering against yours.

As you both caught your breath, Bucky let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hope you’re not too tired, sweetheart,” he murmured, running a hand up your thigh. “We’ve still got a long flight ahead of us.”

---------------------- <3

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @mybuckynotyours @sunday-bug @bunnyfella

#bucky barnes #congressman bucky #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #smut #marvel #mcu #thunderbolts

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ellipsus-writes · 1 month ago

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Each week (or so), we'll highlight the relevant (and sometimes rage-inducing) news adjacent to writing and freedom of expression. (Find it on the blog too!) This week:

Censorship watch: Somehow, KOSA returned

It’s official: The Kids Online Safety Act (KOSA) is back from the dead. After failing to pass last year, the bipartisan bill has returned with fresh momentum and the same old baggage—namely, vague language that could endanger hosting platforms, transformative work, and implicitly target LGBTQ+ content under the guise of “protecting kids.”

… But wait, it gets better (worse). Republican Senator Mike Lee has introduced a new bill that makes other attempts to censor the internet look tame: the Interstate Obscenity Definition Act (IODA)—basically KOSA on bath salts. Lee’s third attempt since 2022, the bill would redefine what counts as “obscene” content on the internet, and ban it nationwide—with “its peddlers prosecuted.”

Whether IODA gains traction in Congress is still up in the air. But free speech advocates are already raising alarm bells over its implications.

The bill aims to gut the long-standing legal definition of “obscenity” established by the 1973 Miller v. California ruling, which currently protects most speech under the First Amendment unless it fails a three-part test. Under the Miller test, content is only considered legally obscene if it 1: appeals to prurient interests, 2: violates “contemporary community standards,” and 3: is patently offensive in how it depicts sexual acts.

IODA would throw out key parts of that test—specifically the bits about “community standards”—making it vastly easier to prosecute anything with sexual content, from films and photos, to novels and fanfic.

Under Lee’s definition (which—omg shocking can you believe this coincidence—mirrors that of the Heritage Foundation), even the most mild content with the affect of possible “titillation” could be included. (According to the Woodhull Freedom Foundation, the proposed definition is so broad it could rope in media on the level of Game of Thrones—or, generally, anything that depicts or describes human sexuality.) And while obscenity prosecutions are quite rare these days, that could change if IODA passes—and the collateral damage and criminalization (especially applied to creative freedoms and LGBT+ content creators) could be massive.

And while Lee’s last two obscenity reboots failed, the current political climate is... let’s say, cloudy with a chance of fascism.

Sound a little like Project 2025? Ding ding ding! In fact, Russell Vought, P2025’s architect, was just quietly appointed to take over DOGE from Elon Musk (the agency on a chainsaw crusade against federal programs, culture, and reality in general).

So. One bill revives vague moral panic, another wants to legally redefine it and prosecute creators, and the man who helped write the authoritarian playbook—with, surprise, the intent to criminalize LGBT+ content and individuals—just gained control of the purse strings.

Cool cool cool.

AO3 works targeted in latest (massive) AI scraping

Rewind to last month—In the latest “wait, they did what now?” moment for AI, a Hugging Face user going by nyuuzyou uploaded a massive dataset made up of roughly 12.6 million fanworks scraped from AO3—full text, metadata, tags, and all. (Info from r/AO3: If your works’ ID numbers between 1 and 63,200,000, and has public access, the work has been scraped.)

And it didn’t stop at AO3. Art and writing communities like PaperDemon and Artfol, among others, also found their content had been quietly scraped and posted to machine learning hubs without consent.

This is yet another attempt in a long line of more “official” scraping of creative work, and the complete disregard shown by the purveyors of GenAI for copyright law and basic consent. (Even the Pope agrees.)

AO3 filed a DMCA takedown, and Hugging Face initially complied—temporarily. But nyuuzyou responded with a counterclaim and re-uploaded the dataset to their personal website and other platforms, including ModelScope and DataFish—sites based in China and Russia, the same locations reportedly linked to Meta’s own AI training dataset, LibGen.

Some writers are locking their works. Others are filing individual DMCAs. But as long as bad actors and platforms like Hugging Face allow users to upload massive datasets scraped from creative communities with minimal oversight, it’s a circuitous game of whack-a-mole. (As others have recommended, we also suggest locking your works for registered users only.)

After disavowing AI copyright, leadership purge hits U.S. cultural institutions

In news that should give us all a brief flicker of hope, the U.S. Copyright Office officially confirmed: if your “creative” work was generated entirely by AI, it’s not eligible for copyright.

A recently released report laid it out plainly—human authorship is non-negotiable under current U.S. law, a stance meant to protect the concept of authorship itself from getting swallowed by generative sludge. The report is explicit in noting that generative AI draws “on massive troves of data, including copyrighted works,” and asks: “Do any of the acts involved require the copyright owners’ consent or compensation?” (Spoiler: yes.) It’s a “straight ticket loss for the AI companies” no matter how many techbros’ pitch decks claim otherwise (sorry, Inkitt).

“The Copyright Office (with a few exceptions) doesn’t have the power to issue binding interpretations of copyright law, but courts often cite to its expertise as persuasive,” tech law professor Blake. E Reid wrote on Bluesky.As the push to normalize AI-generated content continues (followed by lawsuits), without meaningful human contribution—actual creative labor—the output is not entitled to protection.

… And then there’s the timing.

The report dropped just before the abrupt firing of Copyright Office director Shira Perlmutter, who has been vocally skeptical of AI’s entitlement to creative work.

It's yet another culture war firing—one that also conveniently clears the way for fewer barriers to AI exploitation of creative work. And given that Elon Musk’s pals have their hands all over current federal leadership and GenAI tulip fever… the overlap of censorship politics and AI deregulation is looking less like coincidence and more like strategy.

Also ousted (via email)—Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden. According to White House press secretary and general ghoul Karoline Leavitt, Dr. Hayden was dismissed for “quite concerning things that she had done… in the pursuit of DEI, and putting inappropriate books in the library for children.” (Translation: books featuring queer people and POC.)

Dr. Hayden, who made history as the first Black woman to hold the position, spent the last eight years modernizing the Library of Congress, expanding digital access, and turning the institution into something more inclusive, accessible, and, well, public. So of course, she had to go. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The American Library Association condemned the firing immediately, calling it an “unjust dismissal” and praising Dr. Hayden for her visionary leadership. And who, oh who might be the White House’s answer to the LoC’s demanding and (historically) independent role?

The White House named Todd Blanche—AKA Trump’s personal lawyer turned Deputy Attorney General—as acting Librarian of Congress.

That’s not just sus, it’s likely illegal—the Library is part of the legislative branch, and its leadership is supposed to be confirmed by Congress. (You know, separation of powers and all that.)

But, plot twist: In a bold stand, Library of Congress staff are resisting the administration's attempts to install new leadership without congressional approval.

If this is part of the broader Project 2025 playbook, it’s pretty clear: Gut cultural institutions, replace leadership with stunningly unqualified loyalists, and quietly centralize control over everything from copyright to the nation’s archives.

Because when you can’t ban the books fast enough, you just take over the library.

Rebellions are built on hope

Over the past few years (read: eternity), a whole ecosystem of reactionary grifters has sprung up around Star Wars—with self-styled CoNtEnT CrEaTorS turning outrage to revenue by endlessly trashing the fandom. It’s all part of the same cynical playbook that radicalized the fallout of Gamergate, with more lightsabers and worse thumbnails. Even the worst people you know weighed in on May the Fourth (while Prequel reassessment is totally valid—we’re not giving J.D. Vance a win).

But one thing that shouldn't be up for debate is this: Andor, which wrapped its phenomenal two-season run this week, is probably the best Star Wars project of our time—maybe any time. It’s a masterclass in what it means to work within a beloved mythos and transform it, deepen it, and make it feel urgent again. (Sound familiar? Fanfic knows.)

Radicalization, revolution, resistance. The banality of evil. The power of propaganda. Colonialism, occupation, genocide—and still, in the midst of it all, the stubborn, defiant belief in a better world (or Galaxy).

Even if you’re not a lifelong SW nerd (couldn’t be us), you should give it a watch. It’s a nice reminder that amidst all the scraping, deregulation, censorship, enshittification—stories matter. Hope matters.

And we’re still writing.

Let us know if you find something other writers should know about, or join our Discord and share it there!

- The Ellipsus Team xo

#ellipsus #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #anti ai #writing community #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #fiction #us politics #andor #writing blog #creative freedom

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yourreddancer · 22 hours ago

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sSoeondrtpf4c522l9fl918h5a1ug65713ugmu731utgh0hllg84l47c2lc6 ·

Elizabeth MacDonough doesn’t give fiery speeches on the Senate floor. She doesn’t pound podiums, tweet clapbacks, or beg for airtime on cable news. Most people couldn’t pick her out of a photo lineup. But this week, she did more to derail Donald Trump’s legislative fever dream than any Democrat in Congress. With nothing but a binder, a brain, and a spine forged from 230 years of procedural precedent, she calmly gutted the “Big, Beautiful Bill” — and sent the Republican Party into a frothing, incandescent rage.

Here’s the part that should terrify the GOP: she’s not even elected. She’s the Senate Parliamentarian, the nonpartisan referee responsible for interpreting the arcane rulebook that governs the world’s most dysfunctional deliberative body. She doesn’t write laws. She doesn’t vote. She doesn’t grandstand. Her job is simple: enforce the rules, no matter who’s in charge. And when Republicans tried to use reconciliation — a fast-track process meant for tweaking budgets — to shove through a far-right wishlist of land seizures, healthcare rollbacks, and anti-trans cruelty, she read the fine print and dropped the hammer.

The “Big, Beautiful Bill” was supposed to be Trump’s magnum opus: a tax-slashing, Medicaid-burning, land-devouring beast of a bill that would reshape America in his image. It included everything from selling off millions of acres of federal public land to states and private developers, to gutting Medicaid for low-income families, immigrants, and trans people, to defunding Planned Parenthood and hacking away at environmental protections like they were weeds in a billionaire’s backyard. It was grotesque. It was rushed. And it was entirely dependent on sliding past Senate rules without a fight.

Elizabeth MacDonough was the fight. She reviewed the bill’s contents and ruled — piece by piece — that major provisions violated the Byrd Rule, which bars unrelated ideological junk from hitching a ride on budget bills. The land sell-off? Not budgetary. Out. The Medicaid provider tax cap? Out. The bans on gender-affirming care, immigrant coverage, and ACA subsidies? Out. The GOP was left holding a gutted husk, their legislative trophy reduced to a few tax cuts and a pile of redacted dreams.

This wasn’t sabotage. This was MacDonough doing her job — the job she’s held since 2012, appointed under a Democratic majority, and respected by both parties until it became inconvenient. She is the Senate’s quiet guardian of process, a civil servant who doesn’t answer to polls, Super PACs, or social media mobs. Her loyalty is to the rules — even as the people around her treat those rules like a hotel minibar. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t yield. She simply reads the law and applies it, with the precision of a scalpel and the force of a freight train.

And oh, how the GOP hates her for it.

Mike Lee, who tried to shove his public lands fire sale into the bill like it was a foreclosure listing, is already scrambling to rewrite the language and sneak it back in. Trump, fuming from whatever taxpayer-funded golf course he’s currently defiling, is screaming about “deep state rule tyrants.” Senate Majority Leader John Thune is getting asked uncomfortable questions about whether it’s time to “review” the Parliamentarian’s role — a polite way of saying, “Can we fire her for being smarter than us?”

Because that’s the rub. They didn’t lose because the Democrats outmaneuvered them. They didn’t lose because of public pressure or media backlash. They lost because a woman they barely understand said, quite plainly, “You can’t do that.” And when they asked why, she handed them the rulebook. And when they tried to argue, she pointed to precedent. And when they blustered, she didn’t even blink.

Elizabeth MacDonough has no political agenda. That’s what makes her so dangerous to people who do. She exists outside their theater. She answers to no party. And yet, she is currently one of the most powerful people in Washington — not because she makes the laws, but because she refuses to let anyone break them.

So no, she didn’t kill the Big, Beautiful Bill. The GOP killed it themselves — by trying to use budget procedure as a battering ram for authoritarian fantasy. MacDonough simply told the truth. And in 2025, that might be the most radical thing anyone in government can do.

Let the Republicans rant. Let them plot her removal. Let them rewrite their monstrosities and try again. But remember this: when the bulldozers were revving, when the Medicaid cuts were inked, and when Trump’s wrecking ball of a bill was barreling toward the American people — it wasn’t a senator who stopped it. It wasn’t a protest. It was a woman with a binder and a backbone.

We see you, Elizabeth. And we thank you.

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sameenbyhat · 4 months ago

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The Library of Congress (American) gives every literary author a single number for all their works originally written in one language, whatever pseudonym they used.

Seanan McGuire is actually in the schedule (the official list of what numbers mean what and how to make new ones; there are only a few literary authors in each category actually in the schedule) as Mira Grant.

Her number is PS3607.R36395. Let me break that down for you.

PS in American literature in English. (The Library of Congress is... very American.) (PS8001-PS8649 is the Canadian numbers for Canadian literature -- the LOC has agreed not to put anything else there.)

PS700-PS3626 is for works by a single American author who writes in English, literary critiques covering one such author or their works, and biographies covering one such author (this includes things like speeches, because the LOC defines "biography" expansively).

PS3600-PS3626 is for American authors who write in English and were first published in or after 2001, as well as all the other stuff about individual authors like that.

PS3607 is for American authors who write in English, were first published in or after 2001, and have surnames that begin with G. (Remember, McGuire is under Mira Grant.) (And all the other stuff about individual authors like that.)

PS3607.R indicates that the second letter of the author's surname is R.

PS3607.R36395 means precisely "The person who published in this language, place, and time under the name Mira Grant". The string of digits after the R was chosen to make that name file alphabetically in the Library of Congress' catalog with all the other authors. This contains books by and about Seanan McGuire.

Within that number, most of the individual books will have numbers that look like PS3607.R36395 E94 2016. This is a book by McGuire -- it's meant to be a first-edition copy of Every Heart a Doorway -- so the second "cutter" -- that is, the second set of numbers after the decimal point that begins with a letter, in this case E94, represents the title of the book. The date is the date of publication.

This means that the books will be filed alphabetically by title, and very much not in series order. (Sorry).

If someone else has written a book about Every Heart a Doorway, that will be filed right after Every Heart a Doorway, with a number that looks something like PS3607.R36395 E94333 2017.

You can see that this call number contains all of the Every Heart a Doorway's call number except the date. Right after E94, which represents the title, is a 3. This indicated that the book with this call number is about the book that PS3607.R36395 E94 indicated. The next two 3s represent the beginning of the name of the author of the book about Every Heart a Doorway. (We're pretending this is a book by Nina Baym, who was a scholar of American literature and women's writings, but died in 2018.) Then 2017 would be the date of publication of the book about Every Heart a Doorway.

Remember that all the works by and about Seanan McGuire have to fit in PS3607.R36395. That means that some second cutters can't be used to represent the title of an individual work. If the number is PS3607.R36395 DATE, it's a collection of all of McGuire's works (or all the ones in a specific genre). You probably won't see this until she's dead, which will hopefully not be soon. Collections of some of McGuire's works will be in PS3607.R36395 A6 DATE. If it's in PS3607.R36395 ANUMBER DATE, and the number starts with a digit smaller than 6, it's a translation. If it's in PS3607.R36395 Z458 DATE or later, it's a criticism of McGuire's work as a whole or a biography of McGuire. (Note about Z458 or later -- cutters behave as decimal numbers, so Z46 is "later" than Z458.)

Thanks for coming along with me on this journey! If you're ever poking around an academic library that uses LC classification, I hope some of this is helpful.

#library of congress #classification #long post #Seanan McGuire

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carriesthewind · 10 months ago

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Ok. I am maybe kind of losing my mind just a little bit.

A few days ago, I mentioned in a post that the IA only cares about information being digitized, not about actual digital access. And I mentioned that access includes patrons being able to actually find what they are looking for, and suggested IA did not prioritize that critical aspect of access. But I didn't really go into any more detail.

So someone over on bluesky linked to this write-up of a talk Brewster Kahle gave about using so-called AI. And one of his reported statements made my mouth drop open in shock.

...and then I read further in the article and realized it was incorrectly reporting basic facts around Hachette, so I had to go and listen to the whole speech myself.* (And I want to say, briefly - he raises some legitimate potential uses for LLMs! He's kind of a dick about some of it ("it's up to us to go and keep [Balinese] culture alive"), but some of the things he's talking about actually seem useful.)

*Incidentally, while Kahle doesn't lie about the ALA brief in the speech, he absolutely misleads about the nature and facts of the case and deliberately omit the part of the story where the IA decided to suspend the one-to-one owned-to-loan ratio thing, despite repeatedly emphasizing that one-to-one was what the IA was doing with their lending program.

And oh my god. He really said what the article reports. (This portion starts around 20:10.)

He says that the IA has scanned over 18,000 periodicals. And that they used to have professional librarians manually create descriptions of the periodicals in order to catalog them. (Sidenote: there are existing directories, but he describes their licensing terms as "ridiculous." This is not a field I know much about, but I spoke to one person who agreed, though for different reasons. His reason is that you can only license, not purchase, the directory descriptions. The person I spoke to was instead focused on the prices demanded for the licenses. Regardless, the idea of creating an open, free directory seems both like an incredible amount of work and an amazing resource...if it was accurate.)

But according to Kahle, it took 45 minutes to an hour to create a description and catalog each periodical.

And so now, instead, they're using AI to make the descriptions and so it only takes 7-10 minutes!

"And yes it hallucinates, and it has some problems, and whatever — but it’s a lot faster than having to write it yourself!"

Oh. My god.

Just.

YOU ARE KNOWINGLY INTRODUCING AI HALLUCINATIONS INTO YOUR CATALOG?!

(And yes, he says that they are "confirmed by a librarian" but it can't really be, not if it's only taking 7-10 minutes! Maybe the librarian can do a quick check for super obvious errors, but actually checking a AI's summary work requires actually going back to the source and reviewing it yourself!)

I just....

I need to emphasize for those of you for who aren't familiar - if a book or article is miscataloged, it is effectively lost. Because it doesn't mater if a library or an archive owes it - if someone can't find it when they are looking for it, it is not only inaccessible, the only way to find it again is through chance. Imagine if you went into a library, but instead of organized shelves (where if even if you can't find what you're looking for, the librarians know where to look), every single book was just piled in a heap.

If a book is miscateloged, it still exists, but it is lost, not truly accessible. And they know that this is happening, "but whatever." Because Brewster Kahle doesn't actually care about real, practical, digital access. (Much less non-digital access.)

(And then to top it off, he goes on to criticize the Library of Congress for not being "access oriented.")

I just. 18,000 periodicals. And they've knowing, recklessly lost who knows how many of them. I feel like crying.

18,000 periodicals.

#internet archive #ai bs #nope sure don't like using those two tags in the same post #also just admit that you are an archive kahle #archives are great!#I love archives!#they serve a critical purpose distinct from libraries #I don't understand why you seem to hate the idea of being one!#(except I do - the same reason why you won't just admit what the ia did w/ the 'emergency library')

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txttletale · 2 years ago

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how do ml's reconcile with lenin going for a bigbrainhaver hierarchy which just so happened to place him at the tippy top? most of the things he's quoted for writing make a kind of sense in that longwinded academic philosopher way, but, like, russia went from having a revolution against monarchy to having a monarchy, essentially, and what folks do tends to align with their desires, yeah? wouldn't that make everything he said, idk, suspicious?

we reconcile with this because none of this is even remotely true. lenin did not 'happen to be placed at the tippy top' but was in fact elected by the soviets, who worked in a very simple electoral system by which workers and peasants would elect representatives to their local soviet, who as well as administering local services would also elect members to higher bodies. the quote unquote bigbrainhaver hierarchy system in question was as follows:

The sovereign body is in every case the Congress of Soviets. Each county sends its delegates. These are elected indirectly by the town and county Soviets which vote in proportion to population, following the ratio observed throughout, by which the voters in the town have five times the voting strength of the inhabitants of the villages, an advantage which may, as we saw, be in reality three to one. The Congress meets, as a rule, once a year, for about ten days. It is not, in the real sense of the word, the legislative body. It debates policy broadly, and passes resolutions which lay down the general principles to be followed in legislation. The atmosphere of its sittings is that of a great public demonstration. The Union Congress, for example, which has some fifteen hundred members, meets in the Moscow Opera House. The stage is occupied by the leaders and the heads of the administration, and speeches are apt to be big oratorical efforts. The real legislative body is the so-called Central Executive Committee (known as the C. I. K. and pronounced "tseek") . It meets more frequently than the Congress to which it is responsible-in the case of the Union, at least three times in the year-passes the Budget, receives the reports of the Commissars (ministers), and discusses international policy. It, in its turn, elects two standing bodies: (1) The Presidium of twenty-one members, which has the right to legislate in the intervals between the sittings of the superior assemblies, and also transacts some administrative work. (2) The Council of Peoples' Commissars. These correspond roughly to the Ministers or Secretaries of State in democratic countries and are the chiefs of the administration. Meeting as a Council, they have larger powers than any Cabinet, for they may pass emergency legislation and issue decrees which have all the force of legislation. Save in cases of urgency, however, their decrees and drafts of legislation must be ratified by the Executive Committee (C.I.K.). In another respect they differ from the European conception of a Minister. Each Commissar is in reality the chairman of a small board of colleagues, who are his advisers. These advisory boards, or collegia, meet very frequently (it may even be daily) to discuss current business, and any member of a board has the right to appeal to the whole Council of Commissars against a decision of the Commissar.

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

you might notice that the congresses of soviets were not directly elected -- this is because they were elected by local soviets, who were directly elected, in a process that many people have given first hand accounts of:

I have, while working in the Soviet Union, participated in an election. I, too, had a right to vote, as I was a working member of the community, and nationality and citizenship are no bar to electoral rights. The procedure was extremely simple. A general meeting of all the workers in our organisation was called by the trade union committee, candidates were discussed, and a vote was taken by show of hands. Anybody present had the right to propose a candidate, and the one who was elected was not personally a member of the Party. In considering the claims of the candidates their past activities were discussed, they themselves had to answer questions as to their qualifications, anybody could express an opinion, for or against them, and the basis of all the discussion was: What justification had the candidates to represent their comrades on the local Soviet. As far as the elections in the villages were concerned, these took place at open village meetings, all peasants of voting age, other than those who employed labour, having the right to vote and to stand for election. As in the towns, any organisation or individual could put forward candidates, anyone could ask the candidate questions, and anybody could support or oppose the candidature. It is usual for the Communist Party to put forward a candidate, trade unions and other organisations can also do so, and there is nothing to prevent the Party’s candidate from not being elected, if he has not sufficient prestige among the voters. In the towns the “ electoral district ” has hitherto consisted of a factory, or a group of small factories sufficient to form a constituency. But there was one section of the town population which has always had to vote geographically, since they did not work together in one organisation. This was the housewives. As a result, the housewives met separately in each district, had their own constituencies, and elected their own representatives to the Soviet. Here, too, vital interest has always been shown in the personality of every candidate. Why should this woman be elected ? What right had she to represent her fellow housewives on the local Soviet ? In the district next to my own at the last election the housewife who was elected was well known as an organiser of a communal dining-room in the district. This was the kind of person that the housewives wanted to represent them on the Soviet. Another candidate, a Communist, proposed by the local organisation of the Party, was turned down in her favour.

[...]

The election of delegates to the local Soviet is not the only function of voters in the Soviet Union. It is not a question here of various parties presenting candidates to the electorate, each with his own policy to offer. The Soviet electorate has to select a personality from its midst to represent it, and instruct this person in the policy which is to be followed when elected. At a Soviet election meeting, therefore, as much or more time may be spent on discussion of the instructions to the delegate as is spent on discussing the personality of the candidates. At the last election to the Soviets, in which I personally participated, we must have spent three or four times as much time on the working out of instructions as we did on the selection of our candidate. About three weeks before the election was to take place the trade union secretary in every department of our organisation was told by the committee that it was time to start to prepare our instructions to the delegate. Every worker was asked to make suggestions concerning policy which he felt should be brought to the notice of the new personnel of the Moscow Soviet. As a result, about forty proposals concerning the general government of Moscow were handed in from a group of about twenty people. We then held a meeting in our department at which we discussed the proposals, and adopted some and rejected others. We then handed our list of pro¬ posals to a commission, appointed by the trade union committee, and representing all the workers in our organisation. This Commission co-ordinated the pro¬ posals received, placed them in order according to the various departments of the Soviet, and this co-ordinated list was read at the election meeting itself, again discussed, and adopted in its final form.

—Pat Sloan, Soviet Democracy (1937)

Between the elections of 1931 and 1934, no less than 18 per cent of the city deputies and 37 per cent of village deputies were recalled, of whom only a relatively small number — 4 per cent of the total — were charged with serious abuse of power. The chief reasons for recall were inactivity — 37 per cent — and inefficiency — 21 per cent. If these figures indicate certain lacks in the quality of elected officials, they show considerable activity of the people in improving government. The electorate of the Peasants' Gazette, for example, consisted of some 1,500 employees, entitled to elect one deputy to the Moscow city soviet and two to the ward soviet. For more than a month before the election every department of the newspaper held meetings discussing both candidates and instructions. Forty-three suggested candidates and some 1,400 proposals for the work of the incoming government resulted from these meetings, which also elected committees to boil down and classify the instructions. These committees issued a special four-page newspaper for the 1,500 voters; it contained brief biographies of the forty-three candidates, an analysis of their capacities by the Communist Party organization of the Peasants' Gazette, and the "nakaz," or list of "people's instructions," classified by subject and the branch of government which they concerned. At the final election meeting of the Peasants* Gazette there was literally more than 100 per cent attendance, since some of the staff who for reasons of absence or illness had not been listed as prospective voters returned from sanatoria or from distant assignments to vote. The instructions issued by the electorate in this manner — 1,400 from the Peasants' Gazette and tens of thousands from Moscow citizens — became the first business of the incoming government.

—Anna Louise Strong, The New Soviet Constitution (1937)

does this mean that the soviet project was some utopian perfect system? no. there were flaws in the system like any other. it disenfranchised the rural peasantry (although not, i would like to add, to any extent greater or even equivalent to the extent to which the US electoral system disenfranchises the urban working class) -- the various tiers of indirect selection created a divide between the average worker and the highest tier of the executive -- and various elements of this fledgling system would calcify and bureaucratise over time in ways that obstructed worker's democracy. but saying that it was 'a monarchy' is founded in absolutely nothing except the most hysterical anticommunist propaganda and tedious orwellian liberal truisms.

even brailsford, in an account overall critical of the soviet system, had to admit:

Speaking broadly, the various organs of the system, from the Council of Commissars of the Union down to the sub-committees of a town Soviet, are handling the same problems. Whether one sits in the Kremlin at a meeting of the most august body of the whole Union, the "C.I.K.," or round a table in Vladimir with the working men who constitute its County Executive Committee, one hears exactly the same problems discussed. How, be-fore June arrives, shall we manage to reduce prices by ten percent? What growth can we show in the number of our spindles, or factories, and in the number of workers employed? When and how shall we make our final assault on the last relics of illiteracy? Or when shall we have room in our schools, even in the remotest village, for every child? Was it by good luck or good guidance that the number of typhus cases has dropped in a year by half? And, finally, how can we hasten the raising of clover seed, so that the peasants who, at last, thanks to our propaganda, are clamoring for it, may not be disappointed?

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

genuinely, i think you should take a moment and think about where you learned about the soviet union. have you read any serious historical work on the topic, even from non-communist or anti-communist sources? because even imperialist propagandists have to make a pretence at engaging with actual facts on the ground, something which you haven't done at all -- and yet you speak with astounding confidence. i recommend you read some serious books instead of animal farm and reflect on why you believe the things you believe and how you know the things you think you know.

#ask #barkmoon

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tomorrowwithme · 1 month ago

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A college in California cancelled the speech of Indian-British Kashmiri author Salman Rushdie because Muslim student group and civil rights activists opposed him. Why are Muslims opposing Salman Rushdie though? Let's look into it!

It was 1988 when Rushdie's book Satanic Verses was published. The title of the book is a reference to the "satanic verses" which prophet Muhammad had recited in the praise of the three pre-Islamic Meccan goddesses al-Lat, al-Uzza, and Manat. This was written in the early biographies of Muhammad, notably by al-Waqidi. Later on Muhammad claimed that him praising the Meccan goddesses was not from Allah but Satan who caused him to err. Muslim apologists either twist the story as Muhammad doing anything to win over the pagan Arabs who were still worshipping and deeply attached to the Meccan goddesses. Other Muslim apologists reject the story entirely by appealing to the infallibility of the prophets and claiming that the story was a slander against Muhammad.

Rushdie's book was considered blasphemous against Islam and the Islamic Prophet Muhammad. The perceived blasphemy motivated Islamists to riot, bomb and kill, and this sparked a debate about censorship. Fearing riots, Rajiv Gandhi's government banned the importation of the book into India, first in the world to censor the book in fact (on a side note, Congress have always been in the wrong side of history and grovelling in front of Moslems. Pappu apple doesn't fall far from the tree). The Iranian ayatollah issued an Islamic judgement, decreeing the murder of Rushdie. Since then, Rushdie has been facing constant threat to his life.

On August 12, 2022, Rushdie was stabbed multiple times by a 24-year-old Jihadist, just before he was about to give a public lecture at the Chautauqua Institution in New York, United States. The Jihadist was not even born when the Iranian ayatollah put a bounty on Rushdie's head. Why does Rushdie's fictitious book still enrage Muslims? Young Muslim college students living in the United States, where the freedom of speech is guaranteed by the constitution, are opposing this author's right to give a speech. Why? Are Rushdie's writings hurting Prophet Muhammad? Are Muslims afraid of the Arabian pre-Islamic goddesses? These Muslim students were definitely pulling the Islamophobia card when opposing Rushdie, a victim of Islamist mob violence. Again, asking, how is it possible to live with such rabid creatures, who have total disregard to human rights yet occupy educational institutions, use liberal-coded-language to cloak their Islamism and play the victim at every turn?

#desiblr #hindublr #salman rushdie #satanic verses #prophet muhammad #prophet muhammed pbuh #piss be upon him #mecca #pagan #al-Lat al-Uzza Manat #islam critique #iran #ayatollah ruhollah khomeini #islamic revolution

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astarless-fights · 5 months ago

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For those on tumblr not in the know, Mark Zuckerberg lobbied the United States Congress to ban Tiktok from the United States after proving difficulty to overcome the loss of users to Tiktok. Through gifts and stocks, the House Energy and Commerce Committee successfully banned Tiktok. It needs to be very clear to those who have not been able to pay attention: The Committee interviewed Tiktok's CEO with questions that did not relate to Tiktok but instead to META. This precedent is very alarming. What is fine for one, is not the other- even if the other isn't participating.

Some key points:

Tiktok stores (stored, depending on what day you see this) all United States data on US soil in Texas and gives backdoor entry to the NSA. - This is important for the United States to check for the bad people on all platforms.

Listed members on the committee asked questions of activities Tiktok does not participate in but all of META does. Giving us immediate confirmation our government is fine with domestic platforms selling our data without consent.

An incredibly concerning detail showed its face while this was going down. All META platforms have access to every device's data using the same WIFI you connect to and they use that data.

META has given me the urge to puke for several years but last year was a moment of true question of how I move forward in a world that already seemingly has my data, even if I did not consent to the passing around of it.

When META decided to include AI in their system after investors seemed to require everyone to do so, the question of safety crossed my mind. META had announced the platforms were using everything you produce and have produced (posts, videos, photos) to not just train their own AI system, but they were also sending your information to a 3rd party as well. This included a setting toggle for consent that was default ON.

When the masses found out and toggled it off, META redesigned the Settings page to make it harder for you to find the consent option. They also made it so it wasn't just a "toggle" but now you had to write to them.

When the masses found out again (because we don't want this) how to get there, they redesigned the settings page again, hid the consent deeper, and required you to write to them with proof they even used your information... So that you can consent or not to consent to use their information.

I have been on this app since 2008 and relied heavily on this website when I was 14 while trying to escape the all seeing eyes I was friends with on Facebook. During this, tumblr became an amazing news resource for bills about to pass that endangered every bit of what the internet is known for: free speech and free of choice.

Back then, this site was all I had. I worshipped Tumblr for giving me emotional outlets and outside opinions during a very rough and miserable transition as a teen. So when Tumblr shared Bills trying to regulate our internet that would prevent reaching sites like Tumblr, I campaigned to my 150 student school and the two 1000 student public schools near me to reach out to our representatives, especially those 18 year olds waiting for a new horizon. With this, our representative and our governor in South Carolina, reached out to us at the time, letting us know they didn't realize how loved these spaces were and that they needed protecting. Communicating knowledge is powerful.

Having sites like Tumblr and Reddit circulate incoming bills like this was required to know about it. No one on Facebook saw any of that coming and they definitely won’t find out now with Zuckerberg making sure of it.

I have always seen the importance of internet regulation but for whatever reason (propaganda pushing) the People who work for us (reps, congress, the house, the committees) always wanted to pass bills that prevented people from talking and accessing new information.

The Tiktok ban passed by our government is not a good sign for anyone who uses the internet. The total amount of Americans who use this app to create community, careers, businesses, market their art, is at 102.3 million. That's a shit ton of businesses and communities that just end on the 19th of January.

And you might think, well why wouldn't they backup to another platform and I am sure many will, but Tiktok has such a unique algorithm that actually pushes businesses into the limelight and because of that, there is a massive community there that uplifts businesses that are falling behind. Currently, there is no other algorithm on US soil that compares to just how much it uplifts accounts that don't do well starting out. We lost so many creators after Vine because no other app could translate the humor and creativity. It's going to be a bigger loss after Tiktok goes because of that same issue.

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If they are willing to ban a site that is very minimally connected to China, an incredibly huge resource for Americans for everything and anything and all for an increase in paycheck, what else will they be banning in the future when money is waved in their faces by one entity? They already went for one where the American people are heavily reliant on and one that is supposed to be protected under free speech and free of choice. If META wants something dead, give it a year, and it will die.

The Internet and social platforms have always been protected by free speech and freedom of choice. But these aspects have also been on the chopping block since the wild wild west of internet. I fear, this will not stop with just Tiktok.

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alovelywaytospendanevening · 8 months ago

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Lit Hub: The Question of Homoeroticism in Whitman’s Poetry

Walt Whitman’s best poems demonstrate an almost unimaginable prescience; he and Dickinson, among 19th-century American poets, possess a nearly chilling self-consciousness, an acute self-analysis. Edward Carpenter, the British anarchist, writer, and champion of the Arts and Crafts movement whose life and romance were the model for E. M. Forster’s novel Maurice, wrote this elegant description of a visit with Whitman in 1877; the emphases are Carpenter’s own: “If I had thought before (and I do not know that I had) that Whitman was eccentric, unbalanced, violent, my first interview certainly produced quite a contrary effect. No one could be more considerate, I may almost say courteous; no one could have more simplicity of manner and freedom from egotistic wrigglings; and I never met any one who gave me more the impression of knowing what he was doing more than he did.” That there were words for homosexual behavior in Whitman’s day there can be no doubt. Social structures for enabling same-sex congress seem to have been a feature of life in the modern city at least since the later 18th century, when the “Molly houses” in London offered a zone of permission for transvestism. Herman Melville, in Redburn, carefully evokes the nattily dressed fellows who hang out in front of a downtown restaurant where opera singers perform; he means us to understand what these stylish outfits convey. Historian and theorist Luc Sante describes a 19th-century pamphlet that takes as its project the publication of the locations of various quite particular spots of diverse sexual practice in New York City—so that those informed of, say, the address of a bordello featuring willing boys can take special care to avoid this hazard. Trenchant evidence comes from Rufus Griswold’s review of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass: “We have found it impossible to convey any, even the most faint idea of style and contents, and of our disgust and detestation of them, without employing language that cannot be pleasing to ears polite; but it does seem that someone should, under circumstances like these, undertake a most disagreeable, yet stern duty. The records of crime show that many monsters have gone on in impunity, because the exposure of their vileness was attended with too great indelicacy. Peccatum illud horrible, inter Christianos non nominandum.” Which is all a way of saying that Whitman inscribes his sexuality on the frontier of modernity; he is writing into being—particularly in the “Calamus” poems of 1860, with their frank male-to-male loving, their assumption of equality on the part of the lovers—a new situation. He does not know how to proceed—he has no path —but he does it anyway. My guess is that he couldn’t have written “Calamus,” or the boldly homoerotic portions of the 1855 Leaves, even ten years later, as the advent of psychology increasingly led to a public perception of the normative, and imagery of the sacred family becomes the object of Victorian romance. As a category of identity—sodomite, invert, debauchee, pervert, Uranian—begins to emerge, so the poems with their claims of a loving, healthy, freely embraced same-sex desire become unwriteable, paradoxically, just as new language of homosexual identity begins to appear. Unwriteable, and, it would seem from Whitman’s later remarks, and some of his revisions, barely defensible. Carpenter and his readers were reaching for signposts of a gay identity when such a thing barely existed, but Whitman is ultimately a queer poet in the deepest sense of the word: he destabilizes, he unsettles, he removes the doors from their jambs. There is an uncanniness in “Song of Myself” and the other great poems of the 1850s that, for all his vaunted certainty, Whitman wishes to underscore. Again and again, he points us toward what, it seems, must remain folded in the buds beneath speech, since it cannot be brought to the surface. (Full article)

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