#Repression

[tomorrowusa]

Trump is wrecking tourism to the United States like he's wrecking everything else.

From Bloomberg News.

Before Trump took office, analysts expected 2025 to be a bumper year for US tourism, with almost 79 million foreign visitors—approaching pre-pandemic levels. But given the political turmoil, research company Tourism Economics has scaled back its forecast to 66 million as global travelers increasingly choose alternate destinations. The group expects the largest pullback from Canadians, with visits plunging about 20% this year, and the numbers from western Europe will drop 5.8%. Airbnb, Booking.com and Expedia have all cautioned that their financial results will be weaker than expected because of softening demand in the US.

People haven't stopped traveling, they are simply avoiding Trump's America.

Would you visit the US if there was a chance you'd be detained, strip searched, and held incommunicado in a substandard facility?

Welcome to the US

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[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

Hundreds of Jewish anti-war demonstrators have been arrested during a Passover seder that doubled as a protest in New York, as they shut down a major thoroughfare to pray for a ceasefire and urge the Senate majority leader, Chuck Schumer, to end US military aid to Israel.

The 300 or so arrests took place on Tuesday night at Grand Army Plaza, on the doorstep of Schumer’s Brooklyn residence, where thousands of mostly Jewish New Yorkers gathered for the seder, a ritual that marked the second night of the holiday celebrated as a festival of freedom by Jews worldwide.

The seder came just before the US Senate resoundingly passed a military package that includes $26bn for Israel.

[serpexnessie]

Transfem canon event

[thirdity]

And why don't you write? Write! Writing is for you, you are for you; your body is yours, take it. I know why you haven't written. (And why I didn't write before the age of twenty-seven.) Because writing is at once too high, too great for you, it's reserved for the great — that is for "great men"; and it's "silly." Besides, you've written a little, but in secret. And it wasn't good, because it was in secret, and because you punished yourself for writing, because you didn't go all the way, or because you wrote, irresistibly, as when we would masturbate in secret, not to go further, but to attenuate the tension a bit, just enough to take the edge off. And then as soon as we come, we go and make ourselves feel guilty — so as to be forgiven; or to forget, to bury it until the next time.

Hélène Cixous, "The Laugh of the Medusa"

[thelittleukrainianwell-armedgirl]

Today, Ukraine marks the Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Political Repression—a time to mourn the innocent murdered by the Soviet regime.

One of the most haunting sites is the Bykivnia Graves near Kyiv, where the NKVD secretly executed and buried thousands of "enemies of the state." Among them were writers, artists, clergy, and scholars, such as writer Mykhailo Semenko, Metropolitan Vasyl Lypkivskyi, and priest Andriy Bandera.

Items linked to the Katyn massacre were also uncovered here. Long denied, these horrors were only acknowledged in the 1990s. In 1994, a memorial was unveiled; in 2006, President Yushchenko formally inaugurated the Bykivnia Graves as a national historical complex.

Today, services and wreaths mark this silent place. The exact number of victims remains uncertain—estimates range from 100,000 to 200,000—but their memory lives on.

What was once hidden is now remembered.

(c) @ euromaidanpress

[orfeolookback]

ARGENTINA UPDATE

Congress just voted no on a 13k raise for our retired, elderly folks. people who make 230k a month and have to pay 100k on meds and 100k on renting a place to live. 13k was shamefully little and yet these disgusting fucking rats licked the president's shit caked ass and voted NO.

Let it be known today they voted to kill the elderly!

The cops were deployed to shoot point blank at them, gas them, shove them. Theres at least 9 injured. An elderly man has a massive wound on his leg. An 8 year old was gassed in the face. You can google this if you don't believe me.

REBLOG THIS. Argentina isn't trending, but we're bleeding. The cost of living is unbearably high and this authoritarian megalomaniac is getting away with economic genocide of our most vulnerable. Poverty is at a whopping 52%. Please reblog this so that more people may at the very least know what's going on here.

[aqvilegias]

on repression, shame and intimacy issues

[hivinewrld]

i am an emotional person. i cannot hold emotions in. but those fucking classic literature books where the characters have repressed emotions *cough cough* jekyll and hyde *cough* drive me insane. yes. give me no emotional expression, no communication and make the characters MAD as the emotions build up. give me no emotional scenes but tense madness. i ADORE it.

[stoicmike]

“Act your age!” is a tool of repression.  -- Michael Lipsey

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

Timely quote from birthday boy Karl Marx (May 5, 1818):

"We have no compassion and we ask no compassion from you. When our turn comes, we shall not make excuses for the terror. But the royal terrorists, the terrorists by the grace of God and the law, are in practice brutal, disdainful, and mean, in theory cowardly, secretive, and deceitful, and in both respects disreputable."

Karl Marx, "Suppression of the Neue Rheinische Zeitung," May 1849

Artwork: "Karl Marx 200 Years" by Ricoart

[valkugo]

"i am you and you are me. compress. repress. repressed. compressed. and then just surrender."

hawk mountain (2023) // challengers (2024)

[tsubaki94]

Ectober 12

Repression

[inubaki]

The New Butler

-more of a random story rant idea-

okay! Not so random story idea. This ball was rolling by the amazing @helluvahazbins’s! The link of their drawing below! Please check them out, they are glowing with ideas!

This story is the classic Adam falls after his murder, but with the Beauty and the Beast twist. To get back into Heaven by a certain amount of time or else his soul will crumple into the dust he was made from. His form takes the image of his greatest sin during the battle, one resembling Razzle (whom we’ll take as one created without sin even by Lucifer’s hands. As they were created by the true love he held for daughter. A father’s love that Adam had long forgotten.)

He must remember and understand the humanity he lost. The person he once was on earth. And to aid him on his quest, they take away his ability to talk.

The story starts off with Charlie finding him and missing her goatly friend, she enthusiastically takes him in. He will fight this with all his might and a little bit of Charlie’s abandonment and trauma keeps a quick grip on him. Lucifer, having made Razzle and Dazzle from toys, is both suspicious and confused by this similar look alike. But he makes Charlie happy, dispute the hissing, so allows it. Dazzle is thrilled by this and is desperate to make friends while Adam is trying not to die by the other guests giving him odd looks. And Charlie whom wants to dress him up.

To summarize the rest is; Adam starts to adopt and finds himself guiltily finding sympathy for the residents. Observing their struggles and finding himself caught in some of their weaker moments. Allowing Angel to hold him during a panic attack. Playing cards with Husk. Backing up Vaggie in her ‘sergeant’ exercises for the group. Helping Dazzle, the quiet voice of mourning. And most of all, Charlie as she fails to suppress her emotions from the life long feeling of abandonment. Along side Lucifer’s failure to communicate. Bulling Lucifer with bites, head butts and even stealing his things, without words trying to convey what Lucifer needs to hear. And through his own lectures, he begins to remember his own family and his own human life. Worse. He remembers how much he misses them.

——-

that’s the basic idea!! Again!! The idea was heavily influenced by @helluvahazbins!

link:

Don’t know how I’ll go about making it. I’m not that good at writing, especially at long stories. But I adore the idea. The endgame being Adam and Lucifer of course. Old man dad couples for the win. As well as a shout out to Adam’s original dragon goat design that Razzle and Dazzle inherited.

[lylwitchita]

Bucky Barnes, Religious Trauma and Repression

Since Hydra’s long overdue downfall, Bucky had been grateful, thrilled even, every time another lost memory from his old life had surfaced. It felt like being a kid, panning for gold in a stream – the immense joy and anticipation whenever a tiny fleck of gold glittered in the sun as you pulled your hand through the water. But not all memories were good. Even the ones before Hydra. Unfortunately, once the remembering had begun, it flowed like a flash flood. There was no stopping the tide, only surviving it.

Usually, they sat together in church. Steve had always been real good at remembering all the hymns and prayers. Bucky, not so much. He preferred to spend his time lazily tracing each line of the lead-paned, stained-glass windows with his eyes, and letting the droll tone of the wrinkled old priest lull him into pleasant daydreams. So, when the girls had begun to niggle beside him, worrying restlessly at the lacey frills of their white, Sunday dresses, or shifting their legs irritably on the hard wood of the pews, Steve would be there – not a moment’s hesitation – and he would scoop them into his lap, bounce them lazily on his knee, offer them the shiny, round buttons of his coat to teeth on or fiddle with. Even though Buck had never been big on Church as a whole, he loved those quiet mornings. Particularly on days when his father only rose after noon. With no parents in sight, just Steve and Bucky and the little ones, he could almost imagine what it was like when other people spoke about family.

That morning however, as Steve had emerged from the confessional, crestfallen and pale, he avoided meeting Bucky’s questioning stare and chose to sit alone. Buck had spent the rest of the service staring down at his feet. It didn’t seem right to enjoy the way the red light from the stained-glass windows cast shimmering patterns on the altar, or how heady the incense was when it mingled with the smell of perfume and tobacco. Not when everything else felt so, so wrong. Not when Steve, his Steve, would barely even meet his eyes.

His stomach twisted, and he wanted to wretch from the guilt – the confusion. He had just been scared, that’s all. Things were different now – they were…older. People would start to talk… But still, he couldn’t forgive himself for how hard his hands had been when they’d pushed against Steve’s small chest. The look of pain and horror that had coloured his best friend’s face as he’d landed hard in the dirt. Even as he’d seen the irreparable damage unfolding before him, he hadn’t been able to stop the flurry of words that tripped harshly over his tongue.

“We’re not kids anymore, Steve. Don’t ever touch me like that again, you hear?”

His voice had cracked, and his eyes had burned.

There was so much more that needed to be said, and yet that’s all that materialised. Things were different after that. Further away. Careful, and closed.

He opened his eyes, and his shoulders shuddered imperceptibly as the last nauseating tendrils of the memory recoiled from his waking consciousness.

Oh, the benefit of hindsight, he thought.

If only he could go back to that day under the pier, he’d have grabbed himself by the collar and shook some 21st century sense into him. When the time is right, he thought, he would apologise to Steve for that terrible lapse in adolescent judgement.

Maybe he would finally explain to him why it had happened. How confusing it had been at 15 to hear his father and his friends, loud, legless and vulgar, spew their hatred, and intolerance outside in the street at 2am. How he had hid his head under the bed covers and wept, thinking perhaps he hates me because he sees me for what I am.   

I'll find you in the morning sun [AO3 - Evelyn_Gabriel] From Chapter 4: Vântoase

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65760187?view_full_work=true

[gothicseverance]

Science and monsters coexist in the Gothic novel.

—Studies in Gothic Fiction