#ignore me capitalism sucks

[kakashihasibs]

x_x

[ratbastardman]

every reactionary leftist needs to be handed a dvd copy of deathnote because like if your first step to saving the world is deciding who needs to be protected and who needs to be eliminated my brother in christ you’ve got the moral compass of a fucked up teenager raised by a cop

[nthflower]

Everything that is about powder gangers makes me so uncomfortable in a bad way.

[taegularities]

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[bisexualpackrat]

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[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[zozoubbb]

barely talk about this stuff on here but honestly, teenagers shouldnt have to feel this way, teenagers shouldnt have to want to hurt themselves and be fucked up in the head. i barely talk about stuff like this on here because i dont like getting way too personal but i cant get this out of my head. teens shouldnt be cutting themselves even if its for 'attention'. teens shouldnt have to use the internet as their only safe space because they live in unsafe homes who lack love, its not my case, but it is still really allarming to see.

i shouldnt have to feel guilty because i like girls and women, my parents are accepting of my identity but i shouldnt have to make myself feel heard in every space i occupy because im queer and there are people who are gonna say homophobic shit around me that makes me feel so so hurt. NO ONE should have to feel this way, please stop pretending we live in a fun lovely world, it is not, it is cruel it crushs you, specially when youre apart of a marginalized group.

being queer should be something normal and lovely and joyful, but its hard to see it that way when you live in a country that wants your head on their plate.

would my life be easier if i lived in ignorance?? if i ignored who i am?? if i pretended i like men??? i dont think so but seeing all this hate makes me sick in my stomach. makes me want to hurt myself.

[shaxxophone]

I'm really sick and tired of how doomsday it is everywhere that you look for anything destiny related aside from tumblr. I'm really glad that the folks here are overall really chill of things. Like. No, this is not the end of destiny.... but if the fan base keeps treating it like doomsday every single time bungie so much as breathes or blinks then yeah it might very well turn into doomsday.

[be-good-to-bugs]

there is a god and he is cruel

[roanthrufryalfer-blog]

I don't want to distrust my mother when she says she's not a slave driver, or trying to get money out of me. I don't. Especially as I'm 24 and shouldn't be feeling these teenage angst esque bouts of anti authoritarianism, let alone voicing them online.

But when she smells money, she wants work.

Yes, we're hard up and need the income. Yes, I'm a third of her age and can do certain things better than she can. No, I'm not against work in general.

But when she gets my head whirling with exhaustion at the mere prospect of a job I don't actually have, after I've worked so hard both to sign up to a temp agency and to get a full time job that's going to require a lot of physical strength, and I've had my induction day to said full time job, arranged to start work there one shift late so that I can work the temp job tomorrow for 12 hours on my feet, requiring us to get up by 5am (which hurts her way more than it hurts me but still ouch), and has the *gall* to say 'oh you could have done that' about a bar job working weekend nights, including one day I will have been working from stupidly early until mid afternoon, and the one weekend day I get off...

I hate this. I have to do it but I hate this.

[mediumgayitalian]

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Hidden Heir

Next ->

The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

[novaursa]

Can I request gwayne and reader getting it on in a carriage? 😩🙏🏼

The Kiss of the Hightower

Is this a bonus post? Why, yes it is. You guys are awesome, so, I've decided to post something extra to end the day. And, this request was just so simple and exciting to write about. I took some liberties with it to add more to the plot, dear anonymous, I hope you don't mind.

- Summary: On your way to the capital, you and your uncle had other intentions than observing the road.

- Paring: niece!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top and there is the link for the second one.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The carriage rocked gently as it moved steadily down the Kingsroad, the soft clatter of hooves and wheels a constant background hum. You sat across from your uncle, Gwayne Hightower, the weight of silence between you heavy, yet laced with something more. Something forbidden. His gaze lingered on you, tracing the curve of your face, the way your hair fell softly over your shoulders, as though he couldn’t help himself.

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap, trying to ignore the thrum of heat that had been building between the two of you since leaving Oldtown. Called back by your mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, you had not expected this journey to stir such forbidden desires. But with each passing mile toward King's Landing, it grew harder to resist the pull between you and Gwayne.

His voice broke the silence, low and husky. “You’ve been quiet, Y/N.”

You glance at him, catching the way his eyes darken as they meet yours. "And you've been staring, Uncle," you reply, though there’s no bite in your words. In fact, there's a heat in them, one that matches the fire building inside you. The boundaries between niece and uncle seem to blur with every passing second.

Gwayne smirks, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Can you blame me?" His voice drops, thick with something unspoken but understood. "You're... hard to resist."

Your breath hitches, and the space inside the carriage seems smaller, more intimate. The air between you grows thick as you look away, out the small window at the passing fields, but your heart pounds loudly in your chest. You know this is wrong. Yet, the wrongness of it only fuels the flame.

"Say something," he presses, his voice closer now, a hint of command in it. You turn your head back to him, and before you can even think to respond, his hand reaches out, gently cupping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Gwayne...” you murmur, but the way his name rolls off your tongue feels like a surrender.

Without another word, his lips crash against yours, and the world outside the carriage fades into nothingness. The kiss is hungry, desperate, as if all the restraint the two of you had been holding onto snapped in an instant. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer as the fire between you flares into an inferno.

You gasp into the kiss, your fingers clutching at his tunic, and before you know it, you're straddling his lap. The feeling of his solid frame beneath you sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you grind down instinctively, feeling the evidence of his desire pressing hard against you.

Gwayne groans, the sound muffled as his lips move from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. "Y/N..." he breathes, his hands roaming over your body, tugging at the laces of your gown.

You help him, your own hands trembling slightly as you work to discard the layers of fabric separating you from him. The soft material slips away, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the carriage, but you barely notice it. All that matters is Gwayne—his hands, his mouth, the heat of his body against yours.

His tunic follows suit, and soon, you're both stripped bare, your skin flushed and burning with desire. You lower yourself onto him, and the familiar stretch sends waves of pleasure through your core. A deep moan escapes your lips, swallowed by Gwayne's kiss as his hands grip your hips, guiding your movements.

"Gods, Y/N," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You feel... incredible."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your breath ragged as you start to move, the carriage rocking slightly in time with your bodies. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and the thrill of something so utterly forbidden. Each thrust, each roll of your hips brings you closer to the edge, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony.

The tension builds higher and higher, both of you lost in the moment, your moans and gasps filling the small space of the carriage. You're so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, when suddenly the carriage jolts, the horses whinnying as it comes to an abrupt halt.

The shock sends another jolt of pleasure through you, and both you and Gwayne shudder, finding your release in the same breath. Your cries are muffled in each other’s kiss, and for a moment, you’re both lost in the afterglow, your bodies trembling from the intensity of it all.

Then reality crashes back in, and you freeze, still straddling Gwayne as the unmistakable sound of the carriage door opening reaches your ears.

“Oh... Seven hells,” Gwayne mutters, his eyes wide as he realizes where you are.

You scramble off of him, frantically gathering your discarded clothes as the weight of the situation hits you like a wave. You're at the Red Keep. And if the carriage has stopped, that means...

"Mother," you whisper, panic lacing your voice as you hurriedly try to lace up your gown. "And Grandsire. They’re probably waiting for us."

Gwayne is no less frantic, pulling his tunic over his head, though his hands shake slightly with the aftermath of your shared passion. “Well,” he says, a rueful grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, “this is... certainly not how I imagined our arrival.”

You shoot him a glare, though there’s no heat in it, only a shared sense of disbelief. "We’re naked, Gwayne!" you hiss, struggling with your skirts.

He laughs softly, despite the situation, tugging on his boots. "Naked as the day we were born, and just outside the gates of the Red Keep. We might be lucky if they don’t suspect a thing."

You shoot him a look of pure disbelief. "Lucky? Gwayne, if they find out..."

But his grin only widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, at least we had a memorable journey."

Despite yourself, a small, breathless laugh escapes your lips as you both finish dressing in record time, just in time for the door to open.

[drdemonprince]

There is a kind of outrage I see underlying gifted-kid-ness; “I was lied to, I was promised so much and didn’t get it.” Also sometimes a sense of unrequited revenge fantasy; “my adolescence sucked and other kids were unkind and my parents didn’t really know me, but I told myself it was my hero’s journey and one day *I* would be on top… but I’m still not.” And there is something genuinely sad about that on a human level but it’s also so frustratingly myopic.

Special ed kids were no less alienated from their peers and parents, no less burdened by expectations, and no less lied to about the fairness of the system and their ordained place in it. In fact I don’t personally know a single person who can’t relate. Feeling lost and uncomfortable and alienated as an adolescent, and growing into adulthood with a gnawing sense of having been set up for failure in the face of the actual conditions and systems of society, is just the human condition (at least for humans under colonial-capitalism).

And again, that pain is real and it’s totally understandable to want to explore it… but I do wish this discourse would drift more in the direction of solidarity with others who experienced the same or worse, and confrontation of the systems doing harm to all of us, instead of continually reinforcing the idea of the extra specialness of having been called gifted. Because I do think that’s the only way to really be free of it, and I sometimes wonder if people hang on so bitterly to giftedness because deep down they still believe they are owed something. At the risk of sounding harsh, it can feel almost like an inceldom of the intellect, and I don’t think people in it see how self-destructive and alienating these attitudes can become.

I agree completely! gifted kid discourse that ignores the trauma of special ed kids and finds no solidarity with them, and which doesnt explore the damage done by all institutional education is wack, entitled shit.

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[lilislegacy]

Ok guys this is somewhat of a controversial take on Jason Grace’s powers. You can tell I was nervous writing this out because I used capitalization lol. Please read till the end

I want to start by saying I love Jason Grace. He is such a cutie. I adore him. And he is a very, very powerful demigod. And he is totally capable of very evil things, just like Percy. This take concerns a certain ability that a lot of people seem to think he has, but I don’t think people realize how unrealistic is. (I mean people can still hc whatever they want, it just doesn’t mean it’s canon.) Okay, here goes

There is absolutely no evidence or reason that Jason Grace would be able to control the electricity in our bodies. And here’s why…

I know so many of you really love that idea, and justify it by using the logic that percy can control people’s bodily fluids, so since jason can control lightning, he could control neurons and action potentials. But here’s the thing: The reason percy can control bodily fluids is because bodily fluids, like saliva, blood, and tears are largely made up of water, so he can manipulate the content of those substances that is water. And water is water. H2O is H2O. Percy directly controls all water. That’s his power.

Jason, however, controls weather. Which means he controls clouds, thunder, wind, rain, and yes, lightning. But just because lightning involves electricity does not mean he controls ALL electricity. He controls rain, right? Rain is water. But jason does not control all water. Just rain. Because it’s weather. And before you completely ignore what I just said about rain, and argue “but if he can control the electricity that causes lightning, he could control the electrical signals in people’s brains and muscles,” I see where you’re coming from, but the electricity in lightning is NOT the same electricity in our bodies. Unlike water, not all electricity is the same. Water is a basic chemical compound, in all its forms. Electricity, however, is the flow of electric charge through conductive materials, which produces energy. And those materials and types of energy vary. There are different types. The two we are discussing here are static electricity and bioelectricity.

Static electricity is the accumulation of electric charge on the surface of an object. Did you ever do that experiment where you rubbed a balloon on your head and your hair stuck up? Static electricity causes lightning when there is a buildup of electrical charge in the atmosphere during a storm. When the charge difference between clouds, or between a cloud and the ground, becomes too much, it creates a sudden discharge of electricity, which we see as lightning.

Bioelectricity involves chemicals. It refers to the electrical signals and currents produced within living organisms. It works through the movement of charged particles, called ions, across cell membranes, which allows for communication between cells, nerve impulses, muscle contractions, and various physiological processes.

So here’s the thing. Even if Jason could control ALL static electricity, which likely is NOT the case, it’s not even the same type as the electricity that makes neurons fire. And like I stated, Jason/Zeus has control over weather and storm elements, which may involve electricity, but does not mean he controls all electricity.

Okay besties, now before you show up in my comment section aggressively defending jason and assuming I think he’s weak, let me clarify: I am not saying Jason is not powerful as hell, or that he could not do some creepy ass evil things. He definitely could. For instance, he’s shown through his control over wind that he can manipulate air currents in various ways. MEANING he could create a vacuum effect, and suck all the air out of a person’s body. Like… HELLO? He could collapse their lungs. Deprive their brain of oxygen. He could repeatedly suck the de-oxygenated air, aka CO2, out of their lungs, and then force it back in. Which would be torture. Death by slow suffocation. So using his control of wind and air currents, Jason could be terrifying as hell if he wanted to be, and could do unspeakable things to human beings. I’m simply saying that his ability to summon lightning has absolutely zero connection to the hypothetical ability of being able to control people’s neurons. They’re not even somewhat related processes.

Please don’t yell at me. I love Jason. I think he could be very very scary and evil if he wanted to. Him as a villain would be catastrophic, and I’m not doubting that in any way.