#protesting for fun and profit

[industrialangel]

[isaacsapphire]

at the end of the day, American RWers would rather post and seethe than actually do anything. It’s all just social signaling, you LARP as a fascist then vote for guys who do whatever the heritage foundation wants. Same as blue no matter who’s larping as communists and voting for the political party that Blackrock’s CEO is a registered member of.

the median BLM protest was significantly more radical than anything comparable on the right, although the fact that every major private company supported them suggests that they didn’t pose any real threat to anything you’d call “the system”. Interestingly, the DAPL protests got cracked down on in a big way, despite doing less property damage and being significantly less radical in their stated aims. It seems that the environmental movement actually threatens some groups with clout, in a way that “abolish the police” apparently didn’t.

I think the idea of “fed posting” has done a lot to bleed off radical energy. Any time somebody actually does something, their nominal allies deflect and say it was a false flag to make the movement look bad. Thus, nothing actually happens.

to be clear, I think this is good. I don’t really want a radical fascist street fighter movement. I just think that’s why it doesn’t happen.

Everyone would rather talk shit online vs actually go do stuff irl; it’s easier, less risky, lower cost. I also don’t want to live in a country where there’s a political street fighting movement.

Pre 2016, BLM was tolerated/not quashed because the Dems wanted to capture the energy, maintain some street power, and couldn’t afford to put down the extreme side of their own wing. In 2020, once lockdown happened, there was going to be rioting. It was inevitable. BLM specifically helped direct and control the riots.

[isaacsapphire]

"the summer 2020 uprisings were able to happen because enough people, for a brief moment, were freer than they had ever been in this fucking evil country"

Does an outbreak of freedom normally result in riots? Or is it the opposite, where a lack of freedom, an abrupt crackdown, or lockdown, is reacted to?

This feels like a "likes to charge, reblogs to cast" post attempting to manifest something rather than a descriptive post.

no, i do not believe this level of delusion about the pandemic being “over” is sustainable. i have noticed people behaving in ways they never would have before c19, like they know deep down that things are not OK and they’re scared. international travel, huge parties, etc. i don’t know. i guess i’ve been surprised and disappointed by mass human cruelty and indifference before but i really do believe there will be a tipping point. once activists can catch their fucking breath? maybe? it took 10 years of AIDS before ACT UP took to the streets. i don’t want to wait 10 years. i’ll push as hard as i fucking can but unfortunately i’m close to bed-bound by long covid at the moment. i do not want to die. c19 activism feels like a tipping point for climate change action, anticapitalist action, and abolition action. this can be a radicalizing moment. they made the US slightly more accessible for a MINUTE and then yanked it away but we *saw* it. we saw it!!!!!!!!!! efforts to squash c19 precautions go hand-in-hand with squashing anti-police protests: they know that the summer 2020 uprisings were able to happen because enough people, for a brief moment, were freer than they had ever been in this fucking evil country. when people are given resources, they give a shit. cops were the only maskless faces in the streets of minneapolis and that is not a coincidence. the old world is fucking scared and wants you to get sick and die. c19 deaths keep climbing, your yard is burning or flooding or bogged down by smoke, cops have killed more people each year since 2020. that’s the “normal” everybody is trying to convince you it’s sooooo fun to go back to. fuck off. fuck off. there will be a crack and we will kick it open

[assiraphales]

it’s obviously trendy to hate on america but I genuinely need ppl to understand, especially going into the next four years, that over half of AMERICANS did not want this. we’re protesting, we’re advocating, we’re educating. but our government will not listen to us. you do not need to tell us that our country is an imperialist war machine or make jokes about school shootings or about our healthcare system. we know. we are actively being exploited for our time and our bodies by the capitalists that want to bleed us dry. they do not see us as humans to help, but cattle to profit from. and they are in charge. there is plenty to make fun of. maga, elon musk, trump, etc. but some of you truly lack empathy. underprivileged vulnerable communities make up the majority of this country and we are suffering and will continue to suffer as we descend farther into a fascist state disguised as an oligarchy

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hello! I have an idea but I don't know if you'll see this. I don't know maybe where Geta and Caracallas' wife is pregnant with twins but she doesn't want her children to grow up in a place like Rome, so she flees with the help of General Acacius far from Rome and lives in a cozy and humble house. While Geta and Caracallas are furious about the departure of their wife but they don't know anything about her until two years later when they receive valuable information and send for her to return to Rome. It is until then that they realize what the reader was hiding.

If it is not well translated it is because my language is not English

You will never escape our love

Geta/Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt, dubious consent, kissing, mention of war and death, family problems, mention of injury, it's one of the darker portrayals of the two less sweet more narcissistic and controlling

Summary : If you were the Empress of Rome you were at best the most beautiful thing you could look at. For the people you were beautiful, for the rich you were a short thought and for the two emperors you were property that had to be impregnated and had little to say. But how long can a golden cage last before you break out to escape?

info: thank you dear for the request, sorry that you had to wait a bit i had university to do. Nevertheless I wish you a lot of fun :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A marriage should always be something beautiful, something exciting, something splendid, something that you remember for the rest of your life, at least that's how it seemed to be for everyone, except for Geta and Caracalla when they married the 'Flower of the West' to benefit politically.

Both parties profited from it with trade, money and slaves it was as simple as that and she had to realize how divine her two new husbands were...it was above all the disgrace of the gods that came over her and love seemed to slowly close around her like a cage with no prospect of salvation.

It had started well, Geta had sent her many letters, his words had flattered her and the coins that came with them showed portraits of two young men who both had a certain charm.

Her mosaic which had been sent back with a few letters was also warmly received, ,,You're here at last, look brother the prettiest woman in all the provinces is finally here with us�� Geta greeted her, his fingers warm and careful as he took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

It was a sign of respect, something that would be appreciated once they were married, his looks flattered her, he truly had something divine about him and she found herself laughing more often than she thought she would, ,,Your ideas and views are truly inspiring” she had replied as they had taken a short walk through the palace together.

Each of the two wanted to spend some time with her...until the moment they arrived at Caracalla.

She felt Geta's hand tighten around hers, painfully tight as the younger man came over to them, ,,My pretty flower, if you please,” he chuckled, pulling her hand from his brother whose look seemed almost warning.

A first sign of what was happening between the two, what it was that had befallen eid and what “divinity” lay behind them. As she realized after only a few weeks, none at all.

Geta, a self-proclaimed god whose words were like liquid lies, seemed to influence her every move, from her clothes to her hair, what she ate and what she didn't. In his kisses, there was no love, only mockery.

There was no love in his kisses but cobwebs that wrapped around her more and more, ,,Alone in Rome, a world power, my love, you know I could never forgive myself for losing you” he reminded her almost daily why she stayed in the palace.

When she did go out she saw what she was supposed to see, people starving, protesting, murdering and the Colosseum only seemed to amplify all of it This is no place for children she thought fearfully and put her hand on her stomach, she had shared the bed with Geta as often as with his brother.

A bed full of blood and tears and yet she hadn't gotten pregnant, not yet, but how kind could gods be, especially to her.

What Geta had in being a god, his brother had in madness, Caracalla could be the sweetest and most caring man you knew one moment only to cut her with a knife the next, thinking they were at war and he had to kill her and laughing when he saw the blood dripping on the floor.

A maniac whose bites covered her body more than kisses, ,,I need you, you know that, don't you? This madness I don't know what I'd do without you...maybe burn down the world” he always told her when they were in a quiet moment, when he calmed down and she hoped for something better.

But what Geta had in lies, Caracalla had in manipulation and two golden gods moving around her was a hopeless future...a future she knew she only had one way out of, especially when she didn't bleed for the first time and she vomited.

It was the dark eyes of the folk hero who had often watched the empress, seeing the stains and marks under her make-up, hearing the screams and weeping whenever he had an audience with one of the servants and never seeing her wife in such a friendly way.

Acacius and Lucila had already made plans and the Empress would play a role. ,,If the Empress wishes, I will accompany her back, it is not always safe,” he placed himself between her and the Emperor's brothers, who appreciated Acacius.

She cautiously felt the hand on her back as he led her away from her husbands, her breathing unsteady, the fear of finding out she was pregnant ever-present, ,,Why? Why are you doing this?” she asked cautiously as they sat together in a carriage and he sat opposite her.

His warm eyes looked at her with almost fatherly reassurance and his hand pointed to her belly, ,,Rome has been close to death since it was built, the battles are too bloody and peace must come.

Two dead emperors without heirs would be the beginning” he said slowly and the fear that rose in her that they wanted to kill her disappeared immediately when the carriage suddenly took a different direction than the palace.

,,You will be taken care of, a small hut you will stay in until I come for you and the two have fallen" a short explanation, short words and a plan that brought tears to her eyes. The cage seemed open for the first time.

A cage that opened and led to freedom in the countryside, Acacius hadn't lied, it was a small hut with a servant to help her with the work and the sheep, with a small field for self-sufficiency and supplies that would last for some time.

It was a place that was like the other side of a coin, quiet, peaceful, friendly and safe for her children children who were born a few months later in the spring of the new year and twins a boy and a girl saw the light of day.

A light of the world that did not deny them their origins the girl looked like her older father except for her eyes, she was eager to explore and kept her mother on her toes.

The boy, on the other hand, was the image of his younger father except for his hair, always laughing and chasing after his twin until he played with the little figures.

They were children from her time in Rome, children who had reached the age of two and she still loved them, they were her ,,My two beautiful suns" she called them while she held them and listened to her servant who was more friend than servant at the time.

A time that was pervaded by peace that she did not think that the shadow of the past would once again settle over her, a shadow that came in the form of a carriage.

,,My lady, a troop with the military seal is approaching” she heard the voice of her servant who wanted to close the door but was interrupted. It had been two years of harsh fears and discomfort and peace had finally come to an end, Acacius had won.

A victory she didn't know how false it could be, a victory that turned out to be a sword that stabbed her friend and she didn't even realize it when she was on her way back to town.

The city that held so much sorrow seemed quiet, few people on the street, new buildings and she spotted scattered statues for her Time has changed so many things it went through her mind and the two small children each sat next to her holding her hand.

They would be looked upon as a prince and princess, would be a fresh inspiration and she would finally have peace under Lucilla...or so she thought.

A thought that was miserably shattered when, upon entering the throne room, she looked into two faces that almost made her cry out as she realized like a blow that all those who had helped her were dead, that Acacius had given his life again for a dream of Rome that would never exist and that Lucilla, the princess she loved so much, was gone.

,,Information is more promising than letters and empty words and you're finally back” Geta said his eyes kind but his voice was laced with anger as he came up to her and Caracalla looked tearful ,,You left me alone" he said and she saw the dagger flash in one hand.

You can't escape misfortune, not when your human gods own you or love you, her children still whimpered nervously behind her as they sensed their mother's fear, a fear the emperors treated with disdain.

Geta's hand sought hers, ,,We would have given you heirs, as many as it would have taken, but instead you are raising the children of a what, a merchant? Give them to him” Geta demanded and his hand closed around her arm and Caracalla realized what he should do with the dagger and his smile widened.

Her heart was beating so loudly that she could hear it in her ears, memories of former love were long gone and all she saw were the two monsters she would never forget, monsters who did not recognize their own children and she cried out, ,,They are your children!” as Caracalla raised the dagger and Geta tried to pull her away.

Words that made them both pause, the dagger fell to the ground and the clink gave her goose bumps.

Geta let her go and both men looked at each other uncertainly, she let her twins slowly emerge to see their fathers, ,,They're yours...that's why I left,” she said in defeat and she knelt between her children to look up at the emperors with both of them.

Geta and Caracalla both looked at the toddlers in disbelief but the resemblance was unmistakable before Caracalla poked his son on the nose who laughed.

,,Such a waste of time we would have celebrated, instead we had to mourn...but never again, finally we are a family” Geta announced and took his daughter in his arms who immediately played with the gold in fascination while her mother still knelt on the floor not knowing what to do.

Monsters could love, they had once loved her themselves, but in the end it was always just her body, her natural existence, having children that they both wanted from her and when she saw that neither of the two husbands even gave her a glance she could hear the slamming of the cage all the more.

They had given the emperors what they wanted, heirs, and now she was nothing more than a soon to be distant memory for her twins because they now had their heirs and her mother had to rest for a long, long time alone, accessible only to the emperors.

It seemed as if the nightmare was only just beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @userchai

[isaacsapphire]

Legally it’s self defense in NYC? You got case law to back that statement up? And remember we’re talking about a blue state not Texas, and ordinary citizens not cops or politicians.

Like, maybe you decide strategically that you’d prefer to be judged by 12 than carried by 6, but you are still picking between those two options and will be judged by 12 unless you can’t afford a decent lawyer and have to take a plea.

These people do not inhabit the same reality as the rest of us.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; "kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superboy grins at him again. Tim thinks he’s going to have to start just inventing new stages of grief, at this point. The current ones aren’t going to cover this situation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought it might be a little harder to hang out together if you’re really never doing the civilian look,” he tries, and Superboy–stills, suddenly, and the grin vanishes all at once. Tim has a moment to be split between having an anxiety attack about having said the wrong thing or having an anxiety attack about the supervillain attack that’s about to land on his head when he still doesn’t have a mask, and then–

“You–what?” Superboy asks, looking startled. “I mean, uh–like–you wouldn’t get bored doin’ that?” 

“. . . hanging out with you?” Tim asks blankly. They’re soulmates. And also Superboy is quite possibly the literally least boring person he has ever met, douchey shades or not, and the list of “least boring” people in his life includes Bruce and Dick and more superheroes than he could shake his bo stick at. How is someone getting bored around him even a concern that would occur to Superboy? Like, literally ever? 

“No, I mean–” Superboy turns red, looking briefly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t have more fun hangin’ out with Superboy than just, uh–some guy?” 

It takes all of Tim’s Bat-training and gala-experience to not stare at him over that. That–what kind of question is that? 

“I mean, I’m just some guy,” he lies. “But I just meant it’d be way easier to hang out if we weren’t having to deal with people bugging you for selfies or autographs or whatever all the time, you know?” 

“I–uh, I guess,” Superboy says, still looking flustered. “Like–probably, I guess.” 

“Also I don’t want, like, a Gotham rogue randomly deciding you being in town is a good reason to start some shit,” Tim says wryly, because he definitely does not want that, in fact. “Feel like Batman wouldn’t like that very much.” 

“You believe in Batman, dude?” Superboy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re a half-alien clone and you think Batman’s hard to believe in?” Tim attempts to deflect with, because that was definitely a fuck-up on his part, and Superboy just laughs. 

“No, man, I just have literally never met a Gothamite who’d admit to believing Batman was a real dude,” he says. “I literally met Robin like a week ago and, like, pretty sure he was low-key trying to convince me he didn’t believe Batman existed.” 

It was not even a week, Tim thinks, mildly indignant for no good reason, then puts Dubious Civilian Expression #1 on his face and rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Batman’s one thing, but no one actually thinks Robin’s real,” he snorts, and Superboy laughs again, sounding straight-up delighted about it. 

“No, he totally is!” he protests, grinning at him again too and linking his hands together behind his back as he leans towards him, which is incredibly, incredibly distracting for him. “Dude’s got the sick flips and everything and I totally saved his ass from Metallo. And, uh, then he totally saved my ass from Poison Ivy. Long story. Also he’s got a stick up his ass, like legit you would think that was where he kept that quarterstaff thing of his.” 

This is a dangerous topic, Tim recognizes while forcing down the instinct to reply it’s a bo staff, actually, they’re pretty different, and tries to figure out how to change the subject as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Robin talk is not a good idea right now, when there’s a risk of Superboy possibly noticing something about him, what with meeting Robin a reasonably fresh experience in his mind. 

Not that fresh, apparently, since he thinks it was “like a week” ago. But whatever. Not the point. Tim’s just annoyed by the inaccurate intel. 

. . . seriously. A week? 

“Batman or not, you apparently already have beef with Poison Ivy, so definitely I’d be worried about you being publicly in town without needing to pack a super-powered weed-whacker,” he says wryly instead of anything more damning or secret-identity-blowing. Superboy looks–weird, for a moment, leaning back a little bit to straighten back up. 

“You’d, like–actually be cool with me visiting you in Gotham? Like–that wouldn’t be annoying or whatever?” he asks, sounding just barely uncertain about it, and Tim again has to force himself not to stare at him. First: Superboy being any kind of uncertain whatsoever is the weirdest thing he’s ever seen, and second: they’re soulmates. People will spend a lot more time with their soulmates than occasionally visiting each other in different cities, especially five minutes after meeting them when they’re still trying to figure out who and what they are to each other. Again: Tim has investigated multiple missing persons cases that turned out to be “I found my soulmate” cases! Multiple! In Gotham, even! 

“Yes,” he says instead of any of that. “I would actually really like you to, in fact.” 

“Oh,” Superboy says, and turns red again. “I–uh–yeah, I guess that’d be cheaper than you needing to buy a plane ticket or run up your phone bill if you ever feel like shooting the shit or whatever, huh?” 

“I have unlimited minutes, actually,” Tim says, forcing down another stare. The staring would not help, at this moment. Or like–ever, probably. “And the plane ticket was only like a week’s allowance, plus my dad’s got a disgusting amount of frequent flyer miles saved up he never remembers to use anyway. I’ll buy you a plane ticket if you don’t feel like flying yourself.” 

“. . . uh,” Superboy says. Tim should stop talking, probably, but– 

“Also you’re my soulmate,” he says. “I could get, I dunno, an after-school job if I actually needed to cover anything like that. I just figured we could take turns flying over or something. I mean, if you decided to go to college in Gotham in a couple years or something I wouldn’t complain, obviously, just we’ve just met and that seems like a bit much to suggest first thing. Especially, uh, since you don’t actually have any transcripts, apparently. Um. Just, well, if you ever did want to be a civilian sometimes . . . like, eventually, I mean? Well, Gotham’d probably be a good place to hide a Super, right? Nobody’d expect to see you there, and it’s not like you can’t commute.” 

Superboy is staring at him now. Tim thinks maybe he said something wrong after all. Or maybe the lycra rando is about to jump him from behind. 

Fifty-fifty, given the way his life tends to go. 

“Um,” he says. “Like–no pressure or anything. I could also look into colleges out here, do you know if there’s any good programming–uh, programs around? Like just tech in general.” 

Superboy is still staring at him. 

. . . okay, at this point, it’s probably that Tim said something wrong, yeah.

[lyssa-rina]

Project Xerox.

Synopsis: Hydra has managed to clone the winter soldier, you, a handler, managed to escape with your ward after their downfall. Now after the scattering and reassembling of the avengers; trying to put themselves back together they uncover a lost secret.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (slowburn!)

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, OCs, Reader

Warnings!: fighting, stabbing (it's not serious).

word count: 3.3k

AN: Ngl bro, I totally forgot I was writing this for a second bc my mom was in the hospital, but I digress. This is for fun plz be chill. enjoy!

The last time you heard of the Avengers they were fighting in an airport in germany. You were fueling up at a gas station the news broadcasting on the convenience store tv showed airport security footage. Blows traded by both sides, back and forth, explosions and a giant man. The news anchor spoke over looped clips of fighting, something about ‘holding heros accountable’. You didn't care, no one at hydra was ever held accountable for what you went through, so who gives a shit? As long as they left you alone. Natasha was there, you hadn't spoken to her since she escaped the red room. Unbeknownst to herself and the captain, they were the reason you were able to escape hydra all those years ago.

It had been two years since hydra's downfall and you were still moving, trying to keep them off your trail by never staying in one place too long. Alexander Pierce’s death coupled with the incident in Washington created a domino effect across all of hydra.

They might have fallen but a hydra always rises from the ashes they said. A few patrons stopped to watch the news both in shock and feigned disinterest.

He was there too, the soldier, the asset, the blueprint. His face became a constant in your life after you were traded to hydra by the red room. Blue eyes that followed your every move, now watching you with curiosity.

"What's wrong?" You sat on the boardwalk, side by side with your ward, fishing poles waiting for the dark water to cough up a few more fish. A cold wind rustled the trees as a chill ran up your spine, that was all that you could hear besides the lapping of lake water.

"I think it's time for us to head back to the house." You received an annoyed whine in return.

"But- I haven't caught anything yet!"

"I know, but we've been out here all evening, I want you to get some studying in before dinner time" those eyes, staring back at you in disbelief.

"What?! Why?" Despite his protest, he knows to follow orders. That training has been ingrained into his mind since birth.

Reeling in his line with a pout. "Why do I have to study if I already know everything?"

You hum in answer as you smile at the kid. He looks so adorable with his oversized jacket and unruly hair.

"Do you think fish have dreams isaac?"

Those eyes again, swirling with so much curiosity, intrigue and as much scepticism as any eight year old could muster. How was he supposed to know that?

"See? You don't know everything." The walk back to the house was spent with Isaac trying to prove that he did in fact know everything. He did, kind of. Growing up under Hydra’s thumb meant he had to know everything, be anything. To survive you had to be the best of the best and he was. Surpassing dozens of other clones. Alexander Pierce had personally congratulated you on shaping their best new asset, it was sickening the way scientists marveled over their creation. They said he was perfect, genetically, physically, mentally and academically. But who cares how smart you are when they need mindless soldiers. But most of all he was profitable.

It was silent, the only sounds were leaves rustling in the trees and crunching under your feet. The weather was getting colder and the lack of birds chirping didn't seem too alarming. But still, the feeling stayed. The feeling reminded you of the first times they ever went outside. More than half of the kids were terrified, seeing the sky for the first time. Issac was amongst those scared kids but he adapted the fastest and now you can barely keep him inside.

You locked every door and window as soon as you got back to the house. Drawing each curtain as you moved through the cabin, they wouldn't do much for protection, unless there was a sniper they would at least keep you out of view. Even after you prepared dinner, that feeling of unease was there.

"Issac?" He was at the coffee table. Rereading an advanced algebra book for the fifth time.

“Yes?”

“Go tell your brother dinner’s ready.”

The soft thumping of a walking stick became familiar. It was like hearing your own heartbeat in the dead of night. The whirring of a breathing machine was white noise when your thoughts traveled too far, pulling you back to the present as you poured your stew over rice. The heat of the stew was a comfort in a life that always seemed to be moving, rice was cheap and convenient, but versitial.

When you turn to set the table Ben is already in his seat. He usually helps you with cooking but recently the cold makes his leg ache. Since then he’s been listening to the radio frequencies, waiting to hear anything suspicious but thankfully there's been nothing so far.

‘smells good.’ Ben signs as you place his bowl in front of him.

He then turns to Issac, who’s standing beside him. ‘Let’s hope it tastes good too.’

“Hey!” You say feigning offense. “ I was trained to be a spy, not a cook.” The two boys burst into a hearty laugh.

Dinner was peaceful, well, as peaceful as any dinner could be with two young boys debating theoretical cartoon physics in sign language. The boy's dynamic was the same as any other pair of siblings. Brainwashed or not every sibling has pulled a knife on the other, there was that intense push and pull of love and hate. According to the scientists at the hydra facility, they wouldn't exactly be classified as siblings. They were identical, even more than twins. They were the same person, exactly the same. The same person living different lives. When the experiments started you pondered if a singular soul could be split into two, maybe three? But how far can a singular soul stretch? Can a soul even be shared?

“Are you coming to bed?” Issac asks, his big puppy eyes stare back at you. You can tell he senses your unease the way he fidgets on your shared bed.

“I’m not tired yet, I’ll come to bed in a little bit. Okay?” He pouts, crosses his arms and looks away. He’s getting such an attitude these days. You’re thankful that he is, it means he’s not afraid of you. You don’t think they ever were scared of you, maybe by a fraction. Growing up in that place breathes hesitancy, it breathes fear. One guard's bad day could lead to your worst.

“Ben. . . ” You threw him a look, you haven't told him about the unease you felt at the lake. But the eyes tell it all, you’ve both developed a sort of telepathy over the years. Something wasn't right and as he looked back at you from his mattress on the floor he understood completely. Ben knows the drill, he’s been doing this for years.

They look just like him, soon enough you might not even be able to tell them apart from him. They might still be kids but they were under hydra's control for so long. You’re afraid that they might end up back there, end up like the asset, like the soldier that can’t say no and won’t ask questions; because that’s exactly what they were made for.

He nods.

“Goodnight boys.”

You stayed awake, sitting in front of the fireplace with your piece. The fire crackled. It’s light dancing across your eyes and then you heard it, a creak. Wood bending under the pressure of some sneaking intruder, it was the back door. You eased off the couch and sneaked behind a wall armed and ready, when you saw another shadow walk across your front window. You could handle them, sure, but you’d like to stop running someday, find somewhere safe enough to feel normal. Somewhere you didn't have to look over your shoulder after every step.

You suspected it. But you wouldn’t believe it, you hoped they hadn’t found you.

You had a slight upper hand, as small as the cabin was, you’d been living here for weeks. You knew the layout. So waited, back against the mantel wall. Waiting for them to cross the threshold of the hallway. Their steps light, you could hear the subtle drag of the sole of their shoe. If you hadn't known they were there you would think nothing of it. Before the intruder could check their periferal you striked. Grabbing their arm you threw them over your shoulder, they slammed onto a wooden armchair destroying it. You aimed your piece and missed as they kicked you in the chest. When you stumbled they rolled out of the chair limbs and kicked your legs from under you. The both of you were on the ground fighting over the gun when you fired again, it grazed their side. They launched at you and you kicked them off and kicked up into a standing position.

Before you could take aim again, they kicked your gun out of your hand. They tried to climb onto your shoulders, it was a predictable move. You reached for a vase on the window when their calf landed on your shoulder, they backed off after it shattered against them. You were able to keep up as you traded blows, it was a dance you were familiar with. When someone grabbed you from behind, trapping your arms to your sides. Right! There was another one. You lifted your legs and kicked the first intruder in the chest, sending them flying into the broken chair. Yourself and the second intruder flew into the side window from the force of the kick. The glass cracked with a web leaving a big hole in its centre. This was starting to get tedious, but you realised they weren't trying to hurt you but maybe distract you. What if some else was trying to get to your boys while you were stuck here fighting.

You leapt over the first intruder to get to them but the second one grabbed you from behind again. Your window trick wouldn't work again so you head butted them and their grip slackened.

“Ah! Shit!” they hissed.

That was a familiar ‘shit!’. It definitely stood out against all the grunting from the struggle. You froze when the lights came on a second later and you were released. In the corner of the room stood your long lost fellow captive, Natalia Alianovna Romanova, Natasha Romanoff, the widow that escaped. When you turned around the second intruder you came to find out was just Clint Barton. Your entire body sagged with relief but before you could say a word, Clint cried out again gripping his thigh. It was Isaac, armed with a small knife. His eyebrows furrowed, his teeth bared, like a kitten with a crazy smile. He’d stabbed him in the thigh thinking you were in danger, you honestly don’t blame him but he shouldn’t have too. He’s just a kid.

“Isaac no!” you cried out, as he pulled his arm back to strike Clint again. You managed to grab his hand before it came down. Grabbing him by the torso and dragging him away. Confusion brewd on his face as his small frame fought against you. He wouldn’t dare use his real strength against you but why were you stopping him? He was trying to protect you.

“Issac, stop!” his hesitancy was written all over his face. You could tell that he was sacred. He was on the verge of tears, his breath trembled.

Ben stood at the threshold of the room, eyes wide, breath rasping, balancing on his walking stick.

‘I tried to stop him.’ His hands shook as he signed. His breath was ragged, his chest pumping rapidly but not so much from fright but lack oxygen. Rushing after Issac he wouldn't have had time to put his oxygen concentrator on.

“It’s okay. I know you're scared but these are my friends-“

“But they attacked you!” Issac wheezed out.

“ They surprised me- and I got scared and I reacted without thinking.”You really weren't thinking, even with the light from the fireplace you’d ignored all recognizable features and just focused on the fight.

“Remember what we talked about?” His eyes darted between the three adults but avoiding eye contact.

“ . . .I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“You don’t need to be sorry issac. You were just trying to protect me.” you breathed a sigh of relief as he curled into your chest. Silent cries shook his tiny frame, you tried to sooth him, rubbing circles into his back. “But, you don’t need to protect me, I’m the adult, I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Don’t feel bad, kid. I’ve stabbed him by accident too, he’ll be fine.” Natasha snickered out.

“Hilarious.” Clint mockingly hissed and turned to you to ask for a first aid kit.

“It’s under the sink and I’m trying to teach him to not stab people anymore.” The cut on leg definitely wasn’t deep but the drama queen still clutched his thigh in pain.

“Well, you're doing a terrible job.” Clint whined as he sat at the kitchen table.

“Cut me some slack, we’re practically hermits.” you grinned slightly.

The boys wouldn’t go back to bed after all the commotion, so you all settled in the front room, well, what else was left of it; While Clint stewed the small connected kitchen. The cold breeze streamed through the broken side window chilling the room. The cabin was only eight hundred square feet, if you would even call it a cabin,It wasn’t made for long ‘vacations’ but you managed.

You felt safer with Clint and Natasha here but something still wasn’t right. They wouldn’t be here without a reason. You sat in the centre of the couch, Issac’s head in your lap and Ben curled into your side, both eagle eyed.

“Sorry about your window.” Nat poked at the fireplace trying to heat up the room.

You waved her off. They wouldn’t be here if they didn't intend to take you all to wherever they were staying. Your time here was limited anyways, if they hadn't come you would’ve left soon anyways. “That was Clint’s fault, it’s fine”

“My fault?!” Clint gawked, but you ignored him.

“You should take care of that.” Gesturing to the bullet graze you gave her. She nods, her back to you, her focus was on the fireplace.

“We’ve been tracking you for months.” The flames from the fireplace rose, glowing ashes floated up as Nat added more wood. She was floating on an air of disquiet, her posture was rigid, feigned calmness. You’d known each other since you were kids, you were trained to pick up on weakness, even eachother’s.

“Hhm, guess I’m getting lazy.”

“With two kids? I’m surprised we took so long.” Ben and Issac were trained in the same ways you were, hiding in plain sight was something that came naturally to everyone in this room. Moving through life without leaving a trace wasn't just a skill, it was survival. You don’t know why she would point that out.

“Cut the bullshit. Why were you looking for us? What happened?”

“I can’t check on an old friend?” Trying to ease the tension she turns to you and gives a small smile.

You raised a brow. “We’ve been out for years and no one but Hydra lackeys cared about us until now.”

Nat postures to speak again but hesitates.

“General Thaddeus Ross happened.” Clint answered, digging into one of the kitchen cupboards. “Com’on, You guys don’t have reeses?” he mutters to himself.

“Latvia doesn’t have reeses- what does Ross want?” you ask Nat.

“You ask that everytime we’re Latvia Clint.” Nat rolled her eyes feigning annoyance.

“What does Ross want, Natasha?” She doesn't speak but her eyes say it all as they linger on your fingers combing through Ben’s hair. Ben tenses under your palm, he already knows what’s going on.

“Issac, go help your brother back to your room.”

“He has his cane-” he tries to whine.

“Issac, please.”

Ben takes Issac under the arm, the three of you sit in pregnant silence waiting for the sound of the bedroom door to shut. They would probably still hear you because of their super hearing but this was an adult conversation, they're just kids.

When you hear the sound of the door shut Clint breaks the silence with a chuckle.

“Stubborn, that one.”

You knew why the Avengers fell apart, because of the accords. That general Thaddeus Ross wanted superheroes under his thumb and tried pressing their team into signing the accords, they disagreed and things got messy. You also knew when Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D fell all their secrets were strewn onto the internet, hidden behind their plans, strategies and weapons testing there were documents out there that detailed your time in that hell hole. Everything about the experiments that wasn’t on paper was out there and had been out there for a long time. Their weight, height, progress and even their ‘date of birth’. It was all there. Someone was going to get their hands on it eventually.

“You know what happened.” Nat sighs, wiping the exhaustion off her face.

“That doesn't explain why you're here! The last time I saw you two, you were fighting each other on tv.” You rise from your seat on the couch to see them both. To look them both in their eyes.

This vagueness Natasha was operating in, especially with you of all people, was freaking you out.

“First of all, we’re always fighting. Secondly, that was six months ago and I forgave her.” Clint puts it matter of factly, with one finger pointed and a pack of saltines crumpling in his hands. You really wished he wouldn’t eat your snacks but you’d be leaving soon anyway, so who cares?

“Nat, you need to tell me if they’re in danger. Please. . .” She does.

She spills her guts and in turns sours yours. After the accords fell the general started digging up anything he could to get the avengers to hand over their power. He was trying to stretch himself far and wide to get back any semblance of power and he landed on project xerox. He concluded that all ‘weapons’ produced by the experiments were legally property of the US government because of S.H.I.E.L.D’s involvement. Natasha explained that a ‘friend’ that worked for the government leaked the information to her. The mad man wanted your kids in custody, presumably to be child soldiers.It was like deja vu, your story wasn’t changing.

What was left of the ‘dubbed by media’ team cap were all still on the run, hiding out in eurasia and africa. When Nat got the tip she left the safety of their group without warning just to come find you, which meant Thaddeus Ross probably already knew where and by extension so did his enemies. You were bugs caught in a spiderweb of agendas and every arachnid wanted a piece.

“Where were you staying before you came here?”

“A couple towns over.“ Nataha’s slight grin gives the inclination that they’ve been following you closer than you initally thought. So much so that Natasha and Clint were able to stop a military squad before they were able to intercepted you and the boys.

“And I’m guessing you didn’t just bring Clint here to annoy me.” Clint rolls his eyes.

“No, I came to take you on a field trip.”

“To where?” The three of you swivel to the boy’s heads peeking out of the bedroom door in the hallway.

“Boys! What did I say?”

Taglist: @impoeticbeauty

[puc-puggy]

really fascinated with deadpool & wolverine less as a movie and more as a corporate response to the growing insecurity in relating to and creating meaningful art. like, never have we been more aware of the impact that the relationship between art and artist is oppressively mediated by Corporation than right now with marvel, whose movies grow continually worse and more forgettable under growing corporate control, and this movie bears the weight of a particularly complicated and contentious merger. what they decided to do about it is just. fascinating. disturbing, but fascinating.

the movie is incredibly aware that it is a Product and seems to have completely sidestepped any attempt at meaningful storyline in lieu of packing as much Content into 2.5 hours as possible. and I mean Content. they broke him up with his girl & separated him from all his meaningful character connections, then sent him through a very funny but disjointed and lackluster plot, putting all the meat in nostalgic character interactions or gratuitous fan-pleaser match-ups that can work as tiktok clips. don't get me wrong, i'm a basic x-men bitch. wolverine is one of my all time favorites, especially early angry fucked up alcoholic logan. i gasped at elektra and straight up screamed when wesley snipes came into frame. I laughed out loud at the list of cocaine slang terms disney apparently has. it was fun! it succeeded in making me not mind that it was barely a movie.

and that's the rub, isn't it? it was barely a movie, and it knows it’s barely a movie. but it still has to connect with its audience somehow. and that, i think, is what's really fascinating. it forges its connection with the audience not by building characters or stakes and giving any of them genuinely grounded emotional arcs but by using a fourth-wall breaking character to commiserate with the audience about the impact of corporate ownership & profit on their relationship and access to the stories we love. while being the impact of corporate consolidation on stories you love.

deadpool makes jokes about his stupid villain and mcguffin machine, but the plot is still motivated by a stupid villain and a mcguffin machine. he jokes about being banned from doing cocaine on screen & does not do cocaine on screen because he can't. the corporation that now owns his IP has deemed it against their values. he jokes about what things "have to happen" in the movie because there is actually a list that they were given. as a friend pointed out, “the climax was exactly as contrived as it needed to be to make it a statement: ‘you see how this barely-fleshed-out villain character is just gonna kinda stand there in front of the macguffin machine for as long as we need her to so that we can have the conversations and tropes and results we want? yeah we're just gonna do that. we're gonna keep cutting back to her just standing there going Mmmmm mwah haha to specifically highlight how dumb it is. On purpose.’”

by embedding it in the plot with a character that breaks the fourth wall, the movie stops being “about” the plot on screen and starts being “about” the collective relationship to the characters, embodied by ryan reynolds, whose personal desire for a good deadpool & wolverine movie motivated by his pure love for deadpool is the mythological origin of the movie, and who was allowed to break character and say as himself to hugh jackman as wolverine “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.” he’s turned into a sort of avatar of the pure fan, who’s there to love the character and have fun and isn’t too bothered by logistics and legalities. it wants you to feel like deadpool also hates it when stories get shuffled because of corporate stockowners, like this extremely expensive bullshit is his personal protest and he's going to give them a proper sendoff & ryan reynolds was around to hold everyone up to standard. the corporation soothing the audience and fan that people who love the stories are ‘in charge’ enough to create a good time, lowering your standards and expectations of a story to what’s profitable for them to create.

kind of genius.

[paper-mario-wiki]

alright look i know my following is not the target audience for this kind of post but i wanna at least point something out about a scene in the Fallout show that i haven't actually heard a single person point out or comment on.

spoilers ahead.

in the scene where the ghoul is rewatching his old movie, specifically the scene where he originally protested about killing the villain.

the first layer is the obvious one: he is talking directly to himself. "you were strong, ugly, and you had dignity. i'll give you two out of those three." he remembers what happened at that shoot just as clearly as we did, and after he literally tells himself to his face "you're strong, ugly, and have no dignity" followed by him killing the man he originally wanted his character to save. this, of course, coming DIRECTLY after the person he sold into slavery earlier that day sparing him with life saving medicine while he's on the ground and telling him to his face that he only lives on because someone stuck to their humanity. very heavy! i bet he feels like shit, which he probably should because he's kind of a jerkoff! (but in a cool way that i like to watch)

the SECOND layer is the one i find way more interesting. the phrasing of his final line we didn't hear before was so dripping with importance that it felt like i was reading RPG dialogue and story relevant words were highlighted. "i hope you like the taste of lead you commie son of a bitch". as we'd already seen in episode 3, he despises vault-tec for everything he knows they are responsible for while he was their face. moreover, it's made clear that he doesn't just resent himself for being used for their image, but he resents the fact that he was the face of the propaganda which drove the war fever that caused the end of the world. the wild west ideal caricature of masculine wisdom from the movies as the spokesperson of the company who stood to profit from the purposeful decimation of the human race. he became The Ultimate Jingo.

and i really enjoyed how brief yet informative that detail was! i really enjoyed how the directors tell you what the characters are thinking intuitively and effectively through the camerawork and those little details make the whole thing a lot more fun to mull over and consider as a part of the whole of Fallout! i think it's neat.

[streets-in-paradise]

Field of Practice - Maximus Decimus Meridius x (Fem)Reader

Gladiator (2000) Oneshot

Warnings: captive man x kind captor lady ( reader is the daughter of Proximo, backstory explanation for this would be provided if i ever write a continuation). Charge me for use of the " good kidnapper, bad kidnapper" trope here, in correlation with a grumpy dad-sunshine daughter dynamic.

Summary: Intrigued by the most mysterious among the freshly arrived gladiators, you appeal to unconventional measures to endorse his worth to your father. Your every attempt to get closer to him fails, untill his protectiveness emerges with a grim reminder of his past.

Tags: @wildsaltair

Notes: At this point I don't give a fuck If this makes sense because this took me three days to write, so if it's cringe so be it. Those about to clown salute you 🤡

Glossary: Pa - Informal contraction I made up from the latin word pater, meaning father.

Testings for the newcoming gladiators were their oportunity to prove their worth, but Maximus had no one to impress. He couldn't care less about the situation and acted precisely as such when his time came, amusing the trainer of the school in charge of leading the excercise. His attitude had certainly annoyed the master, but he proceeded with cautious patience, perhaps suspecting something greater could be hidding underneath.

Proximo wasn't the onlyone getting that impression, and a small part of the audience echoed it. As soon as he was released from the evaluative instance, Maximus found the sight of your bright smile observing the situation from afar. Reaching only once his attention exposed your presence, it was curious for him to see the sweetness in your face contrasting with the harshness of the enviroment. The general turned slave had also noticed you dressed in roman fashion: blue tunic and a modest palla.

Like a glimpse of the world he left behind, you didn't belong there. He observed you, radiant of cheer, saluting the teacher before the next fight would take place, and in that precise moment the master put his small cosmos in order.

" GET BACK INSIDE! This is no place for you to strut."

Far from being disencouraged, you protested the command with playfull mischievouness.

" Gladiatorial fights may be manly territory, but some of the most intense fanatics are often women. Being ignored only makes us scream louder in the crowd: everytime you bring new men I can tell who will become the most popular. Call it feminine intuition, but it's never wrong. "

Giving a few temptative steps closer with the same playfull attitude, you delivered a conclussion before your interlocutor could get angrier.

" Was i wrong about Haken? When I meet him, I said he looked like the Hercules of the germanians and that is precisely what he brings to the arena. When he fights, I see Thor wearing his magical belt of strenght just like in those stories he tells. "

Praise made the teacher smile very differently from the dry amusement Maximus obtained for his challenging attitude. That was the pridefull smirk of a man sweet talked by a beautifull girl. One calling him by his name, acknowledging him as a man.

The mocking comeback of Proximo cutted you off before he could express any kind of grattitude, or you could deepen the compliment.

" You were wrong about gettting a leopard cub, now I'll have to raise the little bastard AND IT MAY TAKE A YEAR TO MAKE A PROFIT !!! TWO, IF I MAKE HIM MATE! "

" Surely faster than it will take for those giraffes you got." You mocked him in return. " You won't have to worry, I will take care of the baby."

From that point, it was clear the argument was going to pause the activities.

" I CAN'T LET YOU DO IT!! I know you are going to approach it as a ' raise him with love' activity and then RUIN THE BLOODY THING FOR FIGHTING!! "

Despite he made fun of you with the same irony and cynism he directed towards the gladiators, it was clear you were close because no master of that sort and in that situation would have been found arguing or reasoning with a slave.

However, your entusiasm proved you had no fear for ignoring the scolding.

" Love seeker and useless for fighting ... WE SHOULD NAME HIM PARIS!! After all, Paris wears a leaopard fur when Menelaus spots him for their fight. "

Suddenly remembering that giving him a hug in front of the new slaves wasn't a good idea, you lovefully adressed him instead.

" Pa, you are the best!! "

Amused of the altercate yet somewhat shocked by the reveal, Maximus ended up doing the unthinkable because your irruption had distracted him. He wasn't thinking right when the words came up from his mouth, voice slightly dry from the prolonged silence.

" Have you read The Iliad?"

That wasn't precisely what he wanted to ask, but it was wiser than wondering out loud if you were trully the daughter of his short tempered owner.

You giggled for him before the response, unaware of the feat you had just accomplished.

" Of course! Not all of us are savages ... and trojan war epics are the only reading material you find in every corner of the empire because the emperors justify themselves on it to the foreign people they submit. "

Sweet, but not foolish or naive, you were proving yourself to him and Maximus refused to fall for it. Regardless of his initial dissaprobal, your father didn't miss the oportunity you left served for him.

" Spaniard is a deserter of the legions and that is all we know about him ... What can you tell me? "

The mere idea that you could do any kind of correct guess on him caused a cocky smirk on the gladiator, as if he challenged you knowing you would never make it.

You raised your eyebrows with amusement, shrug one shoulder, and observed him in silence for an instant before pronouncing a verdict.

" He didn't desert out of cowardice, he has the glance of a man that has seen enough, that wanders lost and has abandoned life way before stumbling with captivity ... But there is a timid light in his eyes. A sparkle, not strong enough yet. When the flame will shine once more, he will burn down everything in his way."

For the first time since he spotted you, he found himself trully impressed. Your accustom to hopeless men must had given you a talent to read them, distunguishing them apart from the desperation of those who still craved life.

" ... I need him to stand up before me if you want me to get more specific."

Proximo gave the order and he had to raise up again to present himself for one more examination he didn't want to pass.

" imponent physique, but not threatening. He doesn't look sculped by the gods, this is the hard work of a man. A mysterious man, and empty void that could be anyone. Whoever his fanatics want him to be a replacement of, whatever hole in their lives they need to fill following his fights. Others may think of unveiling the mystery, many women would love the challenge. He could be a soldier, he could be a farmer, the protective escort of a merchant ... Who knows? But he feels approachable and he is handsome. Of softer facial features than your typical gladiator, but manly without question. "

You were pacing in circles arround him, slowly and attentively as your observations were. Despite you didn't do it with any lustfull implications, Maximus despised to be examinated as a luxury item. That was exactly what you were trying to achieve: convincing your father that he wasn't worthless waste fitting for sacrifice.

" I am not your champion, save your flattery for him. It means nothing to me. "

" Not my fault if you are blind to your worth for the crowd. " You simply stated, sweetly behind his back before reaching the full turn back to his front. " When it comes to the female side of it, our northen god over here is popular among married women but maidens find him frightening. He resembles the big-sized barbarian up to ravage them in roman cautionary tales … You, Spaniard? What I have in front is a mysterious rebel of raw virile beauty irresistibly dangerous, but never menacing."

Tension in the environment kept increasing as your speech became slightly more daring.

" Strong arms that would hold you without crushing you, soft looking lips and a manly beard … Young women will adore you, parents will accuse you of corrupting the virgins. "

" And I will be the first If you don't stop praising his virtues. " Proximo interrumpted you, warning both with his choleric expression but you in particular on speech. " ... That is exactly why people form wrong assumptions of you! In every village we step, they whisper you are an easy girl. "

You turned back to face him, evidently angered by the reproach.

" I AM A SINGLE WOMAN SURROUNDED BY SWEATY GLADIATORS ... What do you think they would expect? What i do matters very little, I am guilty by association. I learned to live with that because I am very much proud of my father despite of being the useless daughter he discovered in old age, that he can't even directly inherit his business to. "

Maximus looked at the side in search for his numidian savior, verifying if he was amused as he was with that attempt of manipulation tactic. They shared silent smirks under the impossibility of laughing.

Used as he probably was, the father didn't fall for it.

" DON'T COME AT ME WITH THAT! "

" My behavior is irreproachable: If I give your men my honest encouragement, it's never of the physical kind. If the corrupt minded women commenting I am a whore knew me for real, they will think I am a fool instead. "

Eyes back on the gladiator, you approached him friendly as matter of proving your point.

" You are safe with me, Spaniard. My admiration begins and ends in words, ask Haken if you don't trust me yet ... Only one more thing I may ask from you, and that would be knowing your name. At least in the limits of my father's home, I like to adress our gladiators by their names. "

He smiled for you, but no more words came out from him. You understood the message implicit on his silence.

" I guess I haven't earned it yet. Very well, so I will, eventually ... with some hard work and perseverance. I'm sure we will have enough time for it. "

It didn't take much longer for him to discover just how much perseverant you could be. In that place of pain and death, you would come to the men like light filtering through a crack. Asking them about their past lives, their stories, easing their fears, or bringing a last moment of peace for the less skilled ones that knew themselves about to die. He could tell you weren't raised in that cruel environment and approached it with the lessons of your different experience.

Why, despite complaining about it, your father didn't establish a harsher control stopping you from sneaking among the gladiators? He understood watching your effect in them. Doomed men would adquire a last glimpse from their lost sense of worth, resembling that strange mix between a powerless slave and a pridefull hero a gladiator was supposed to be. Broken by the life on the school, by the lead of your father, you would pick the pieces of those men and get them on their feet so they would give a spectacle worth to watch. From your part, the intention felt genuine. If you realized that was the one use your father found for you, that wasn't the motivation of your approach.

Maximus, or Spaniard, like you knew him as, observed every interaction in silence. When you questioned him about the fresh damage on his shoulder, he ignored the concern. Never seeking for your attention, he wanted to make you understand he would rather be ignored. Lost in his own tragedy, he accomplished it untill from the less expected of places something evoked it to him.

The scribe had begged for salvation at your feet. Careless for staining your nice tunic without the palla, you sat next to him and in desperate attempts of comforting him, you plotted a way of helping his case.

" We can make you my teacher!! Pa allways says that someday we will go to Rome. The new emperor is known for being a fanatic of gladiators, so we may have a chance soon if he lifts the prohibition. My problem is that the rudimentary bits of culture I have adquired are not enough for the capital … but you can change that. "

The frightened man smiled as he followed you in silence.

" With your help, when the time will come, I'll resemble a refined lady and maybe I will find a wealthy husband. If I present it to my father like an investment, not a matter of sparing your life, maybe he won't even get mad about it! The nature of his business makes it hard for me to find prospects, … I need all the help i can get."

You chuckled to your own self deprecating joke before deepening it.

" As you can see, I am a disaster. All I do well here is to make a sad man smile, but that is not enough if I want to really impress my father."

As if his will had been taken over by some vengefull entithy, Spaniard abandoned his letharge with loud, dark sounding laughter.

" See? He is laughing! Although I would like to know why. "

The casual mention of the man that ruined his life, a possible chance to get revenge presented to him and the irony that you represented in that context. Word by word, all the aspects of yourself you were mannifesting to the scribe would have been a delight for that bastard. He didn't know you for real, but it made him fear for you in advance.

With a sinister semblance, he informed you.

" If you ever step in Rome, Commodus will never let you go. "

Misunderstanding his words, heat raised on your face to the thought of finding your previous praise on him retributed.

" Ohh, Spaniard … That is adorable!! Very unrealistic, but I deeply appreciate your comfort. Specially because it comes from you. "

You gave a peck in the air on his direction, playfully blowing a kiss. He didn't reacted to it, not at least like you expected.

" That was not comfort, it was a warning. Stay away from that bastard. You analized me in order to discover which kind of unwanted attention from female admirors would follow me, I returned the favor. "

For the first time since your meeting, he was trully responding to you and you could only encourage him with entusiastical curiosity.

" And what can you tell of me? This is exciting, nobody tried it before. Certainly I can't understand what made you look at the daughter of the owner of a gladiator school in some distant provincial hell and conclude ' Sure, she would charm the emperor' "

The scared man of words shared a few nervous chuckles with you and only then you were reminded of his presence.

" ... I will plead your case later and come back with the answer … Would you let me have a moment with Spaniard? He is kind of shy and I am afraid he may stop talking to me if there are witnesses. "

He obbeyed your ask, not before thanking you one last time then reaching enough distance to abandon the conversation.

Still sitting carelessly with his back against a wall, the spaniard awaited for whatever would be the next step of your plan.

Taking off the leather ligaments keeping your hair in a tail, you moved your head so it would fall nicely and wildly. Then, you stood up and walked on his direction trying to feel as pretty as you could, as if he would be the buyer you needed to impress.

" Go ahead, be my measure of worth, … what do you have for me? Which one is the crowd were I should seek for a husband? "

You gave a slow twirl, allowing him to observe you from every angle and the reverse parody made him laugh.

" I can tell you have became your father's cheer to compensate the fear that you can't be his pride. I am almost sure he must be proud of you anyways, but you don't feel it in yourself. Since you can't find a husband, you have made of the slaves he trades with your field of practice. In your rehearsals, you turn worthless flesh into pridefull fighters. He knows it, so he ultimately allows it because it's good for business. He breaks the men untill they face they have became slaves, and you make them feel like men again in time for them to die when they are told to, but giving honorable performances. "

You smile had faded and you looked down, comfronted with an unconfortable truth. You could have given up, if it wouldn't be for the follow up of his grim commentary.

" And last, but definitely not least: you are beautifull. "

Your sparkle was back, surprised as you were with his statement.

" You think? "

He didn't intend to encourage you, what he had for you was more like brutal honesty coming from his frustrating position than actual praise.

" That scribe didn't have a girl as pretty as you worrying for him in his whole life and you must know it … And the germanian? Wrapped arround your finger, he smiled like a fool when you called him a god. On the outside world you have it hard, but here you are Helen of Troy watching the slaughter from the high tower. We are a cursed parody for the Age of Heroes and you are the missing piece in the recreated act. Any roman fanatic of gladiator fights would find that fascinating."

You colapsed next to him, sharing the surface of the same wall as support for your back.

" Very insightfull, even poetic ... but that is not enough. You pointed at the emperor, you spoke as if you knew him. There has to be something else you aren't telling me."

He realized of his emotionally driven mistake and quickly corrected it.

" I've heard rumours, that happens often in the army. They say his father was deeply ashamed of him. He failed at making him proud because he is cruel and whimsical, but desperately craves for validation. He wants to feel loved, among all things, and you are someone capable of finding beauty in the ugliest of places. You would charm him so fast, you wouldn't realize of your mistake in time. He would keep you captive, making you do for him what you do for those men ... A sword in your father's throat, and if you refuse he will make the head roll at your feet."

At that point you sensed he couldn't be talking of you: it felt too specific and personal. Whatever your talk with the scribe had awakened in him was taken as facade to deal with something he carried inside, a wound from his past.

" ... They made you hold the sword against the throat of an innocent and you refused to give the lethal blow .... That's why you deserted!! "

He let you have the partially wrong guess with a brief smile of comfirmation, because in that way he could at least satisfy your curiosity for him without revealing anything relevant.

Of course, he didn't consider that would only increase the already growing admiration you had for him.

" You are an honorable man ... YOU ARE A HERO!! I knew it!! I knew it from the first moment I saw you!! "

Despite he saw it coming, he didn't stop you from curling against him. It was the very first act of warm human contact he received since his friend of the road had healed his wounds, so he closed his eyes and pretended to not be enjoying of it until a lovely sigh from you got him staring back at you.

" ... What was that? "

He asked more playfully than angryly, trying to understand what he could have possibly done to cause it.

" Forget Rome and those boring rich men. Do you want to know what I think now, Spaniard? If I ever marry, I want my husband to be just like you."

You followed the confession with a chaste peck on his right cheek, but unfortunately got caught in the action by the arrival of his closest acquaintance there.

" Juba! " You sweetly saluted him, releasing the man beside you without leaving him before excusing yourself. " Your performance was excellent, ... did I forgot to mention it? You will do great in the arena, we are expectant about you. "

The terrible acting you pulled convinced no one.

" You are here for him, we all know that. "

" I can't play favorites, but he looked like he needed a hug. Have you seen the mess in his shoulder? And he wouldn't let me call a healer! " You complained with him once you were back on your feet. " Stubborn man is your fellow. "

You shared a few chuckles of agreement on an observation that was mutual, untill another irruption coming from behind him changed the course of the situation.

" There she is, ... the backstabber! Already seeking to try the softer arms of the spaniard? "

Haken was looking at you in mockfully played offense, as if he resented you would be siding with his competence. Despite it was certain that your interest in the spaniard was quite different from the playfull compliment exchanges you had with your friend, you didn't want to make him feel bad about it.

" What I said doesn't apply to me. I am not scared of you, that was for the girls in the crowd who have no idea that your huge chest is the casket for the big jewel that is your heart. "

The occurence was so intricate that he simply bursted into laughter looking at you smiling with innocence at the end of the phrase.

" Then I suppose you won't get frightened if I do this ... "

Without any more warnings, he easily picked you up from the ground in parodic representation of the insidious roman misconception you mentioned before. Your cheerfull screaming caught the attention of more bystander gladiators, circunstantial audience for the comedy.

Maximus abstained himself from entering the game in the role of your savior, the closeness you had briefly shared was enough for one day.

[isaacsapphire]

Idk man, I was doomscrolling in the summer of 2020 and that doesn’t exactly line up with my recollection of the mainstream media handling of violent leftist protests mere months before January 6, 2021.

The 1960s Left had an excellent cross-class organization of the academic and otherwise intellectual elite (eg National Lawyers Guild) funding and running interference for the ground level operatives eg building bombs in Greenwich, so idk if I buy any explanation about tenured professors etc suddenly getting shy about supporting political violence, especially in a situation where they could have legitimately claimed to be trying to save democracy and the United States from the dastardly working class “yallqaeda”.

The more I think about it, the more the thought of the entire thing being organized by three letters who told the leftist embeds to sit out seems like the obvious explanation for the lack of leftist barking.

How come only they had the spine to try an insurrection though? I said this when it happened but the only thing wrong with it was the ideology behind it. Imagine how far a violent anti government mob could go if it was made up of people who actually know which things the government is doing wrong.

[respectthepetty]

petty i have a question regarding the four-pointed star cutout shirt tm

i thought joong said he was straight several years ago—but. but. i was wondering if you knew whether or not he said it in turkish? iirc he was telling his friends in turkey that he was a bl actor (2moons2 era) but reassuring them he was still a man which is also a way of saying you’re straight but also more specifically just not a bottom if that makes sense? god this is a rambling mess sorry

As a JoongDunk fan (first, and a human second), I remember this controversy in 2019 very well during 2 Moons 2. I remember him saying, in Turkish, that he was a "real man" and people understood it as him not being gay, then other people claiming he was simply saying he wasn't a bottom, but I don't speak Turkish and . . .

I really don't care what he actually said.

On a personal note, I claimed for YEARS that I was straight. I helped found the LGBTQ Resource Center when I was an undergrad on my college campus. I was part of the Queer Straight Alliance in high school, college, and the faculty advisor for my current college's affinity group. I was planning National Coming Out Day events, managing drag shows, protesting against prop 8 and for marriage equality, and helping with the state's queer film festival. Also, I was sleeping with EVERYONE! Yet I was sternly claiming allyship.

Because even smart bitches do dumb shit we all have our own journeys.

But also, Joong is an actor, and with every fiber in my being, I hope all these BL boys and GL girls lie like Robert Pattinson on a random weekday in April. Just lying for no good ass reason. Lying simply because they can. Lying because they want to. Lying because it's the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. Lie like that dumb trad wife slogan — Lie. Laugh. Love. or whatever they say. Be like Nike — Just Do It! Or be like Kay Jewelers since 'Every Kiss Begins with a Lie" or something like that. Lie because we don't deserve to know one damn thing about their personal lives.

The point is I don't care what Joong said when he was 18-years old and thrust into the spotlight by a company who was trying to turn a profit (because ALL companies are trying to turn a profit), and I really don't care what he says now that he is a branded pair under the largest company to gain profits off its branded pairs.

But do not mistake this for defending Joong.

I'm defending the right for us to evolve in the way we personally understand ourselves and for the gays to lie whenever the hell they want.

It's about to be 2025.

LIE!

Because if someone wants to know if we are queer, let them piece that shit together on their own like a jigsaw puzzle and they are a kindergartner developing fine motor skills.

Lie. Laugh. Love (whoever the fuck you want)!

[viktorarcanedeservesbetter]

Alright here we go:

Silco is not the hero of Zaun that he’s sometimes portrayed as.

I think there needs to be a clear statement before I write all this next:

Yes I do think he truly loved Jinx and deeply cared for her, honestly.

What Vander did to him was wrong and he was 100% in the right to forever hate Vander for that. (And want revenge for it.)

He was 100% rightful to hate Piltover and also right that violence (some form of it) was necessary to make change-peaceful protesting and other forms were never going to work.

Now on to the rest (tackling my first three points first)

Jinx’s mental state and instability is largely due to him. Yeah he’s not mentally well himself, but Jinx has a lot of damage, she needed a lot of healing, and that was simply never going to happen with him in the picture (and it notably didn’t).

His hatred of Vander also lead to the violent death of Benzo, as well as him wanting to kill all his kids-is 100% wrong and also a point against him (I haven’t seen anyone argue against this lol but people do kind of push this aside when talking about the Vander of it all, so I thought I’d add it).

And finally: he was harmful to Zaun too. While the main group again Zaun (and the origins of all its issues) is in fact Piltover and the Council, them being The Worst does not make him Good. Case in point:

Shimmer production-he’s basically every textbook dictator. Keeping the masses highly addicted to a drug he and his people profit off of. Exploring kids for its production.

Everyone mentions Vander working with enforcers, but his deal was basically “I’ll keep everything handled here, come to me first” when dealing with major issues, while Silco kept enforcers (like Markus) on his payroll to ignore issues and also sell out his own people to avoid being taken himself.

The Firelights+Ekko’s people were also hiding from him. They weren’t just trying to keep safe from the Enforcers/Piltover, but also Silco and his people. Silco was happy to keep working against a group trying to keep their people safe (as well as send Markus to blame them for all the attacks) because they affected his profits and control.

Zaun would have barely fared better under his full control. He was not about to really give up shimmer factories-that’s his profit. If Zaun gains its independence, who is going to step in to really make sure shimmer is shut down? All he’s going to do is make sure it no longer gets to Piltover. He’s intelligent, he knows how to play the game to get what he wants.

He wants independence for Zaun, true, but in his version where he’s at the helm. It’s ultimately what leads him to his speech to Vander’s statue-he finally realizes what all his actions lead to and why Vander was like that in the end, and “anything undoing as a daughter” is him finally realizing: oh I fucked up. I, like you, found someone I care about, and now it’s all fucked upppp.

(Note this is not a compliment of Vander, just an observation)

TLDR: Silco is not the Good Guy simply because the Council is the Truest Bad Guy.

All this saying I loved watching his character arc and found him fun but sometimes seeing people ignore his flaws or what he also did to Zaun makes me itch idk

[elfdragon12]

I think IDW2 Swindle is perhaps my favorite take on the character.

He just strikes such a good balance of "Swindle traits" for me, he's sympathetic without being a good person, and he has a lot of fun relationships and different dynamics to explore. Although he protests, he caves to Smokescreen's requests. He allows Trickdiamond to negotiate for more (though he was in jail). He is a terrible boss who doesn't pay well. He breaks Bumblebee out of jail and actually arranges an attempt to rescue Elita-1 for him. He just wants to keep his casino running (and rake in the profit).

All in all, a great interpretation of the character!

[isaacsapphire]

I’ve read Marx. I’ve read Piketty. I’ve read Alinsky and Graeber and Kropotkin and Berkman and Goldman and Hoffman and every zine I could find. I read Everyday Feminism. But none of it seemed to actually match the “leftist ideology” that the leftists I actually met seemed to all know already.

I went to a lot of really bad house concerts and collective meetings and made a lot of hummus for potlucks trying to find answers and people to talk to. I applied for group home residence but the vegan dinner attendance requirement clashed with my 60+ hour a week work schedule. I got nothing and eventually ran out of energy to keep beating my head against a brick wall of comrade landlord and comrade trust fund kid and their cumdumpster the regularly section 12ed couch surfing girl (she was nice but I didn’t have the resources to save her from herself, and neither did her wealthy parents.) I concluded that leftism wasn’t for people like me who actually had to work for a living and couldn’t afford to be arrested as a recreational activity.

I found one elderly Wobbly to talk to, unrelated to any of the above community but he was preoccupied with HOA drama and preliminary discussions suggested that my workplace was not realistically unionizable.

In the years since, I have consistently met “leftists” who’s literal only ask was to be cut a larger government check, either for their work/industry as a direct or grant-funded government worker, or as a public dependent on Section 8/SSI/food stamps/etc.

And yes, as far as how much I ought to consider that leftist writing that’s old enough to be reprinted by Dover Books is representative of current day leftist thinking; first of all it’s obviously incomplete at best, and second I can clearly see that the writings of the Founding Texts of American democracy aren’t sufficient to explain the current day ideological positions in mainstream American politics so why would I expect Marx to be more relevant to current day thought than Rousseau or James Madison?

So give me a freaking book recommendation or pdf link to a zine or whatever written after I was born ffs. Stop making “leftist theories” something one has to have a trust fund and admission to a college for future heads of states’ wives to learn.

So you ask me, what is the key insight of leftist thought??

Good question! Poor choice of person to ask, but good question!

I would say this: when you look at the world you see two groups of people. The majority have to work their whole lives to earn resources they need to survive. Then there is a small minority who don’t need to work because they control important assets such as land, capital, or monopolies either natural or artificial, from which they earn ongoing rents for doing absolutely nothing.

In the short term that’s great for them, but over the medium term it gets even better, as the value of these assets often increases in conjunction with the overall growth of the population and the economy, giving a second big boost to these rentiers without requiring any effort on their part.

If that was just the extent of it that would not be so interesting; a little unfair that some people work and some people do not, but life was never fair. However, the control of capital and the freedom from work also gives this group (or class) of people the ability to shape the nation by applying political influence to ensure that their interests continue to be prioritised over the interests of the workers, potentially locking us into a situation where people suffer needlessly to preserve the current economic order, all to benefit a small minority.

…and everything else flows from that.

Comments appreciated, particularly from people who use words like “praxis” with a straight face. @leviathan-supersystem perhaps?