#to the point that for a long time i actually used them as incentive to write

[the-s1lly-corner]

TADC cast crushing on the reader

+ gummigoo and princess loolilalu!! Hooray! i think i might have written something like this a long long long time ago buuuuuuuut with episode 2 out and more info on some characters, i decided to remake it... if i have written this before..!

Notes: reader is GN but post mainly focuses on the canon characters

CWs: none

CAINE

Very obvious, and he's not going to waste too much time flirting with you before he asks you out on a date. He gives you special attention compared to the other circus members and always checks in on you first. He's open to flirting, but he doesn't go overboard with it... he's got to keep it family friendly, you know! Boggles at you if you return the energy, before regaining himself and hitting right back with a line. Doesn't hold back any punches when trying to impress you, it hits its peak when he tries to ask you out. It can get... overwhelming...

POMNI

Poor girl. She's so awkward around you, she doesn't want you to think she's some loser. Even though she kind of is already/j. Tries to make conversation with you to get to know you better and to just spend time with you. She's... clumsy... in the sense that she stumbles over her own words and seems more on edge when you're around. You might even think you did something wrong to make her act so tense around you. Not at all confident when asking you out, actually you might be the one to ask her first just to get the tension done and over with. She tries her best not to seem rude or put off by you, she's just clamming up is all!

RAGATHA

Similar to Pomni she's a little awkward, but she keeps herself composed much easier. Yoinking the fact that she practices her words before talking to someone and using it here. She hypes herself up before knocking on your door to check in on you. Very attentive to you and your needs, she subconsciously puts your wants/needs above her own... call her out on that because there's going to come a point where it's going to come to her detriment. Makes you things every now and then, cannot accept anything in return but she will try. Asks you out when she feels the time is right, and even if you don't feel the same she tries to move on with the friendship as normal unless you want some space.

JAX

When he's crushing someone he's the type to tease them and lightly bully them. "But Admin, he already does that," You might say. And you wouldn't be wrong. I can see him leaning more into it, though. So if you notice him getting onto you more than he did before.. well you might just assume he's being a jerk. He thinks love is gross, as immature as it sounds. Cooties mentality, so he does what he can to try to smother those feelings. On top of that he hates the idea of being vulnerable, giving him all the more incentive to try to destroy those feelings. Oddly enough, he still tosses pickup lines your way if he notices it gets under your skin. Is it mean? Yes, but let's not forget that Jax IS mean...

KINGER

It's hard to tell when he's crushing on someone simply because he's so... Kinger. But some big signs to let you know that you're on his mind is him hovering around you more and more as time passes. He's already lost his wife and deeply scared that something is going to happen to you. Actually, that fear might push him to tell you how he feels fairly quickly. It's nearly suffocating, and he needs that peace of mind that he can at least tell you how he feels before anything hypothetically happens. Strikes up conversations whenever he can, a lot revolving around his own interests because that's what helps keep him grounded and in the present moment... but he wants to hear you talk to! A bit of a flirt, surprisingly, but he's very polite about it.

ZOOBLE

Its hard to read zooble sometimes, but they make it easy by being forward with you. They come forward when they realize they have feelings for you, and that said feelings aren't just a dud and won't pass easily. Very accepting on whatever you answer, but I can see them needing some space from you if you reject them. It doesn't mean the friendship is over, Zooble just needs time to get those feelings out. Similarly to Jax, they don't like being vulnerable like that. Unlike Jax, they want to get it done and over with sooner rather than later. Not a flirt, but they will become more... noticeably relaxed and open around you. At least by Zooble standards.

GANGLE

Shy.. and awkward... I know I keep saying the girls are awkward, but Gangle is going to give Pomni a run for her money with how much of a mess she becomes. Doodles you a lot, becomes more cagey about her sketchbooks and papers because of this. Follows along with whatever you suggest you two do for the day, and doesn't protest all that much because she wants to make you happy and perhaps even impress you. Definitely fantasizes about some fanfiction-esque scene that leads to the two of you ending up together... it's actually a little... pathetic... and it's unlikely to happen like that, and knowing a certain circus member.. cough cough Jax.. she's probably not going to get the chance to tell you herself on her terms...

LOO

Very straight forward and confident when asking you out, and she takes it with grace if you don't feel the same. Similar to Caine, she gives you special attention! She might even give you some special privileges in her kingdom... definitely gives you some pointers that she's developing some feelings for you. A great listener, wants to know just about everything about you and she's going to let you rant and ramble about anything you want. She responds too, by the way. She doesn't just listen, she keeps the conversation going. Leaves you gifts every now and then!

GUMMIGOO

If this is post... everything... and he was allowed to stay, having a crush on someone so soon actually distresses him a little bit. He's just learned that he's an NPC and everything he knew prior to... everything.. was fake.. it all feels too sudden. The stress translates into frustration, so you may fall under the impression that he's upset with you. He is.. but only a little, for making him feel like this. But a bulk of it is towards himself and his circumstances. If this were any other time or if he didn't have the knowledge he has now, he would be more open and even attempt to flirt and tease you. Sad stuff.

[alpaca-clouds]

Solarpunk is not archievable under Capitalism

Okay, let me make one thing very clear: We will never have a Solarpunk future as long as we live under capitalism. Again and again I will find people, who have fallen in love with the idea of Solarpunk, but are unwilling to consider any alternative to capitalism. So, please, let me quickly explain what that just is not gonna work out that way. There will be no Solarpunk under capitalism. Because the incentives of capitalism are opposing anything that Solarpunk stands for.

So let me please run over a few core points.

What is capitalism?

One issue that a lot of people do seem to have is understanding what capitalism even is. The defining attribute of capitalism is that "the means of production" (e.g. the things needed to create things) are privately owned and as such the private owners will decide both what gets created through it and who will get a share in any profits created through them. The ultimate goal in this is, to generate as large as a profit as possible, ideally more and more profit with every year. In real terms this means, that most of those means of productions in the way of companies and the like are owned mostly by shareholders, that is investors who have bought part of the company.

While capitalism gets generally thaught in schools with this entire idea of the free market, that... actually is not the central aspect of capitalism. I would even go so far to argue something else...

The market is actually not free and cannot be free

The idea of the free market is, that prices are controlled by the concept of supply and demand, with the buyer in the end deciding on whether they want to spend their money on something and being able to use that power to also enact control on the supplier.

However... that is actually not what is happening. Because it turns out that the end consumer has little influence, because they are actually not actively participating in the market. The market mainly is something that is happening between multimillionaires. It is their demand (or the lack thereoff) that is the influence. Investors, mainly. Which is logical. In a system, where the power to buy is deciding, the person who can spend multiple millions is gonna have a lot more power, than the person who has twenty bucks to their name.

Hence: 99% of all people are not participating in anything resembling a free market, and the remaining 1% are not interested in such a system.

Money under capitalism

One thing everyone needs to understand is, that for the most part money under capitalism is a very theoretical concept. It might be real for the average joe, who for the most part will not have more than maybe ten grand to their name, but it is not real to multi millionaires, let alone billionairs. Something that is going to be thrown around a lot is the concept of "net worth". But what you need to realize is that this net worth is not real money. It does not exist. It is the estimated worth of stuff these people own. Maybe houses and land, maybe private jets, maybe shares in companies and other things. These people's power and literal worth is tied to them being able theoretically able to sell these assets for money.

In fact a lot of these very rich people do not even have a lot of liquid money. So money they can spend. In fact there are quite a few billionairs who do not even own a million in liquidated money. The money they use in everyday life they borrow from banks, while putting their assets up as a security.

Why capitalism won't abolish fossil fuels

Understanding this makes it quite easy to understand why the capitalists cannot have fossil fuels ending. Because a lot of them own millions, at times billions in fossil fuel related assets. They might own a coal mine, or a fracking station, or maybe an offshore rig, or a power plant burning fossil fuels. At times they have 50% or more of their net worth bound in assets like this. If we stopped using fossil fuels, all those assets would become useless from one day to the next. Hence it is not in the interest of these very rich people to have that happen.

But it goes further than that, because politicians cannot have that happen either. Because the entire economy is build around these assets existing and being used as leverage and security for other investments.

Why capitalism won't build walkable cities and infrastructure

The same goes very much for the entire infrastructure. Another thing a lot of people have invested a lot of money into is cars. Not physical cars they own, but cars manufacturing. So, if we were building walkable cities with bikelanes and public transportation, a lot less people would buy cars, those manufactoring factories becoming worthless and hence once more money... just vanishing, that would otherwise be further invested.

Furthermore, even stuff like investing into EVs is a touch call to get to happen, because the investors (whose theoretical and not real money is tied to those manufacturers) want to see dividents at the end of the quartal. And if the manufactuerer invested into changing their factories to build EVs for a while profits would go down due to that investment. Hence, capitalism encourages them not doing that.

Why capitalism won't create sustainable goods

A lot of people will decry the fact that these days all goods you buy will break within two years, while that old washing machine your grandparents bought in 1962 is still running smoothly. To which I say: "Obviously. Because they want to make profits. Hence, selling you the same product every two years is more profitable."

If you wonder: "But wasn't that the same in 1962?" I will answer: "Yes. But in 1962 the market was still growing." See, with the post war economic boom more and more people got more divestable income they could spend. So a lot of companies could expect to win new costumers. But now the market is saturated. There is not a person who could use a washing machine, who does not have one. Hence, that thing needs to break, so they can sell another one.

The market incentive is against making sustainable, enduring products, that can be repaired. They would rather have you throw your clothing, your smartphone and your laptop away every two years.

Why workers will always be exploited under capitalism

One other central thing one has to realize about capitalism is that due to the privitization of the means of production the workers in a capitalist system will always be exploited. Because they own nothing, not even their own work. Any profit the company makes is value that has in the end been created by the workers within the company. (Please note, that everyone who does not own their work and cannot decide what happens to the value created by it is a worker. No matter whether they have a blue collar or a white collar job.)

That is also, why there is the saying: All profit is unpaid wages.

Under capitalism the profits will get divided up under the shareholders (aka the investors), while many of the workers do not even have enough money to just... live. Hence, good living standards for everyone are explicitly once more against the incentives of capitalism.

Why there won't be social justice under capitalism

Racism, sexism and also the current rise of queermisia are all a result of capitalism and have everything to do with capitalist incentives. Because the capitalists, so the people who own the means of production, profit from this discrimination. This is for two reasons.

For once having marginalized people creates groups that are easier exploitable. Due to discrimination these people will have a harder time finding a job and living quarters, making them more desperate and more likely to take badly paid jobs. Making it easier to exploit them for the profit of the capitalists.

A workforce divided through prejudice and discrimination will have a harder time to band together in unions and strikes. The crux of the entire system si, that it is build on the exploitation of workers - but if the workers stopped working, the system would instantly collapse. Hence the power of strikes. So, dividing the workforce between white and non-white, between queer and straight, between abled and disabled makes it easier to stop them from banding together, as they are too busy quaralling amoung themselves.

Why we won't decolonize under capitalism

Colonialism has never ended. Even now a lot of natural ressources and companies in the former colonies are owned by western interest. And this will stay that way, because this way the extraction of wealth is cheaper - making it more profitable. Colonialism has never ended, it has only gotten more subtle - and as long as more money can be made through this system, it will not end.

There won't be Solarpunk under capitalism

It is not your fault, if you think that capitalism cannot end. You have been literally taught this for as long as you can think. You never have been given the information about what capitalism is and how it works. You have never been taught the alternative mechanisms and where and when they were implemented.

You probably look at Solarpunk and think: "Yeah, that... that looks neat. I want that." And here is the thing: I want that, too.

But I have studied economics. Literally. And I can tell you... it does not work. It will not create better living situations for everyone. It will not save the world. Because in the end the longterm goals are not compatible with a capitalistic system.

I know it is fucking scary to be told: "Yeah, change the world you know in massive ways - or the world will end." But... it is just how the things are standing.

You can start small, though. Join a local party. Join a union. Join a mutual aid network. Help repair things. Help people just deal. Our power lies in working together. That is, in the end, what will get us a better future.

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 22

Find the series masterlist

Here we are folks! Three more chapters after this. I will be posting one chapter a week until this is done.

Hopefully that's enough incentive to keep y'all from mobbing me. Hee hee.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, stressful situations, threats of violence, deceitful practices and language, swearing, injury.

Word count: 1.3k

John parked in front of the building, which looked as nondescript as ever. But it felt like it had been much longer since you’d last been here, longer than the hours that had actually passed.

Less than a day. Less than one full day you’d been gone, and your world had tipped sharply. 

Thinking about it made you nauseous, so you shunted the thought aside. Kate. You were here for Kate. Everything else would wait. 

“Stay behind us,” John insisted, handing you the gun again. He held your gaze, waiting until you nodded to release the gun to you. 

You followed the two of them up the stairs, for once itching not to run away from something, but towards it. You needed to make sure Kate was okay, get her away from Gray and home safely to her wife.

Anything else, you could handle. But not losing Kate. 

John slowed as the three of you approached the top floor. He shot you one single look, a very clear reminder to stay behind him. 

You didn't need reminding. You had no intention of acquiring more bullet holes any time soon. 

John and Roach went first, pushing open the door to the top floor and sweeping the space. You moved a little more slowly after them, swallowing hard. 

Find Kate and leave. That's all you cared about. 

The door to the conference room shattered with a gunshot from inside. John and Roach both moved, and you ended up being pushed into the wall by Roach. The second shot hit the wall harmlessly. 

The fire alarm went off, likely pulled by someone on a lower floor. You grimaced at the loud siren, the extra noise doing nothing to help the situation. But Roach just motioned you to stay put. 

What remained of the door opened with a crash. The mercenary had barely stepped out of the room before John shot him, the body falling in front of the door. 

“I see you are still alive,” Gray called through the open door. “A pity my men did not do their job.” 

“And they still won't.” John kept his fury leashed, voice cold. “Give up now and I might let you live.” 

Gray laughed, sending goosebumps up your spine. “Such bravado! I am not surprised. But you see, you are outnumbered. I have something you want, whereas you… have nothing.” 

Roach pushed you back harder into the wall, which was good because you had just opened your mouth to protest. Instead you made a tiny wheezing noise as half the air in your lungs was forced out by the soldier in front of you. 

Fucking rude. 

“That so?” John remained calm, staying out of sight of the open door. 

“Price,” Kate said from inside the room. 

You clenched your hands as tight as you could around the gun. Fuck. She sounded okay, but… 

“Laswell.” John, somehow, was still not audibly responding. 

“You see? Something you want.” Gray sounded far too smug. 

John was silent for a few long moments, shifting his position just enough to be able to look at you and Roach. He lifted one finger to his lips, holding your gaze, and waited until you nodded to look away. 

“I do have something you want,” John pointed out, calm but cold. He had a plan, clearly. 

At least, you hoped he had a plan. If he didn't, he was faking it very well. 

“You?” Gray laughed. “What could you have that I want?” Derision dripped from every word, his amusement clearly mocking. 

John didn't seem to care. “Ace. And a way out of this building alive.” 

“You think I won't kill you too?” Gray hissed, the still-screeching fire alarm only making him sound more unhinged. 

“You're welcome to try,” John ground out, voice lowering to an absolutely threatening growl. 

Silence from the meeting room for several long moments. If you had to guess, Gray was debating his options. Debating the best way forward to get what he wanted. 

You fidgeted behind Roach, swallowing back nerves as best you could. It was not in your nature to stand by and listen to people haggling over your life. 

Roach reached back and tapped you twice on the side. You weren't sure if that was supposed to be reassurance or a reminder to stay quiet. Either way, you drew in a deep breath. 

“What is it you're proposing?” Gray asked finally. 

John was quiet for a moment, and you could see his gaze flick to you. “An exchange,” he finally offered. 

If you trusted him any less, you would have been outraged. As it was, Roach's tap to your side was unnecessary. You weren't going to jeopardize John. 

“Intriguing,” Gray said, curious. “I do appreciate a man who can weigh the worth of two lives and choose one.” 

Your jaw clenched tight at that, a memory slamming into you, of Gray standing before you father. Something about the weight of lives… But it was gone again, shoved back deep where you'd buried it. You needed to focus. Not fall apart. 

“Then come out,” John goaded. “Get this over with before more people get involved.” 

As if to emphasize his words, the fire alarm screeched once more and went quiet. The sudden silence was almost worse than the constant noise. Almost. 

The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten. Too long, much too long. Gray was planning something, he always was, John had to know–

Gunshots broke the silence, and Roach pushed you harder back into cover, obstructing your view as he did. But you could hear the gunfire continue, then a masculine shout. Two more shots, a little different sounding than the earlier ones. The sounds of a struggle - grunts and thuds. 

Then three more shots, so close together you almost couldn't hear the difference. 

“Do not shoot,” Kate barked.

You perked up, straining to try to see around Roach. He didn't move, keeping you covered for now. 

There was a brief choking noise, spluttering, another thud. The steady beat of boots against the floor. 

“Need help?” John asked, further away now. Glass crunched under boots. 

“Move,” you hissed at Roach. “Let me see–” You pushed past him with a little bit of a struggle, half-running past the bodies on the floor without a second glance at them. 

There were exactly two people you cared to see right now. The bodies weren't either of them. 

You skidded to a halt outside the shattered glass door, peering into the room. Two more bodies on the floor, blood slowly seeping into the thin carpet. John, standing over Kate and Gray, where Kate had Gray pinned face-down in what looked like a truly agonizing hold. 

Blood smeared from Kate's temple into her mussed hair and down her cheek. 

The floor next to Gray's head caved in under the bullet, bits of carpeting flying away from the impact. Gray shouted something indistinguishable, thrashing a little under Kate. 

“Ace,” John soothed, turning to face you. “We've got him. Give me the gun.” 

You didn't give him the gun, gaze trained on Gray. On the man who'd haunted your nightmares for years. 

“Ace,” John repeated. “Give me the gun.” One hand stretched out slowly towards you, careful not to spook you. 

He needn't have worried. You would never shoot him. 

Kate said your birth name softly, and your gaze snapped to her instead. She watched you, holding Gray down with little effort. The pain he was in likely helped with that. “I've got him,” she told you, steady and calm. “Steady.”

You blinked once, looking back down to Gray. He was no longer moving, breathing hard against the carpet. You hadn't seen him last time, when Kate had captured him that first time. You didn't know if this was quite the same. 

But you did know that this time, you weren't a scared little girl. 

“I'm sorry, Kate,” you said sincerely. “But you had him last time, too.” 

You pulled the trigger.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 38 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hey guys big tigger warning on this chapter! Please be very aware, I do not want anyone to feel triggered or uncomfortable by my writing. I write a lot of things from my own experience, and it does sound weird to say but writing this chapter helped me express a lot of feelings I didn't know I had. If you do not want to read this chapter I totally understand, I have tried to make the graphic scene less so. I hope anyone who has ever experienced SA or worse has been able to heal. Love you all truly, if you want to talk about anything my messages are always open, I am so happy to chat!!

TW- R*pe, SA, Violence, talks of assault, (please let me know if I missed any).

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92 @lucyfromtheoldhouse @blueberry-ovaries anyone else please let me know.

The man had dragged me into the jeep, the cold barrel of the gun pressed into my side. The replacements didn’t get to me in time, I watched them stand over Grant’s body as the soldier pulled away from the scene. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to muffle my sobs, the man kept the gun pressed into my side. 

I glanced over to him, the purple smudges under his eyes from when Don had struck him in the face. He drove erratically swerving from side to side on the road. I gripped the side of the car, nervous that I was going to fly out the side. I thought about hurling myself from the vehicle, but the thought of being crushed under the wheels and then losing the ability to get away made bile rise in my throat. 

“What do you want?” I yelled over the whip of the wind. 

The man looked towards me, the glare in his eyes made my chest clench, he looked as if he wanted to kill me. He raised his gun, I bit my lip regretting my words, squeezing my eyelids shut, I didn’t want him to be the last face I saw. The butt of the gun smashed down into my cheek, I yelped out in pain reaching up to cradle my now throbbing face. I flinched away from the man trying to crawl into the farthest reaches of the car. But it was no use, I was trapped. 

With every passing second we were getting further away from the base, if we kept going any longer I wouldn’t be able to find my way back. 

“I killed him.” The man uttered, I cautiously set my eyes back on the driver. “Your fucking boyfriend, I killed him. He got what he deserved y’know, no one fucking hits me and gets away with it.” 

My eyes widened, he thought Grant was Don. I didn’t point out the fact that he had actually gotten the wrong man. I didn’t need to give him incentive to go back to base and hurt anymore people. 

I sat as still as humanly possible, hoping that my silence would make me invisible. My hyperventilating made me feel faint. I dragged in deep breaths trying to stop the shake in my hands, but it was no use. The adrenaline that surged through my veins had me set on edge like a live wire.         

The jeep slowed, my eyes frantically searched the surrounding area. I didn’t know where I was anymore. My brain had blacked out the drive we had taken, time had lost all meaning. I didn’t know how long I had been in the car, or if we had turned along the way. 

But there didn’t seem to be anything of note for him to be stopping. So why were we? 

Unfortunately my question had been answered all too quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the man surging towards me, my arms came up to protect my face, but his hungry hands latched onto me. 

“No, please.” I uttered terrified. But it was no use the man tugged me down, until I was laying flat against the car seat.  

He hovered above me a sickening slimy grin shone in the dark. He eyed me like a wolf eyed its prey, I was a piece of meat and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. 

“You’re so pretty.” He muttered into my ear. By this point I was gasping for air, nothing was making its way into my lungs. My eyes burned, the places his filthy hands touched felt like acid on my skin.  

I swallowed, his gun was on the dash. I could reach out and grab it. But what if I wasn’t quick enough, or he won it off me before I could even shoot. I didn’t know where I was, if he shot me and left me out here I was surely going to die. But I didn’t want to be unconscious, not around him, I wanted to know my fate, even if it was dreadful. I couldn’t have the unknown, I didn’t want to wonder what he had done to my dead body. 

His hand clamped around my chin forcing me to look him in the eye. I felt vomit rising in my mouth. His greasy hair hung down limp and lifeless as his bloodshot eyes roamed my body. I squirmed under him as he straddled my waist. 

There was no way of getting out of this. If I wanted to live I would have to endure what was going to come. 

His fingers dug into the open wound on my cheek, a cry of pain crawled from my throat. 

“I said, you look so pretty.” The drunk man’s lips brushed my skin with every word. 

Tears streamed down the sides of my face and into my ears muffling my surroundings. I choked back sobs. My body was pinned under his, my arms by my sides. I was stuck, his body weight didn’t even give me wiggle room. 

He flashed me a wicked smile as he pulled back, his eyes were pitch black, the sound of his lips curling up around his teeth had me shaking. 

“Thank you.” I uttered, my voice breaking. 

I love you Don, please forgive me.

“Relax Emily. We’re just going to have some fun.” The man’s voice was hoarse and croaky, his breath smelt of stale liquor.

My name in his mouth made me want to scream, but we were so far away from anyone no one would hear my pleas for help.  

His hands found the tops of my thighs dragging me down further so I lay more flat in the passenger seat. My heart hammered into my chest, so hard that it physically hurt. 

The sound of his zip sliding down the track filled the silence of the night. It wasn’t long till his hands found mine, I felt his fingers brush down my crotch. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. I had fallen asleep on Don’s chest, I would wake up back in the room, the sound of the men’s voices would fill my senses along with the warm fire. 

But reality hit me like a tonne of bricks as the man yanked my pants down exposing me to the cold night. 

I know what I must do.

The man’s hot breath fanned across my face, making my eyes water more than they already were. 

He pulled down my pants, to just above my knees. I forced myself to relax, I knew it would be more painful if I resisted. 

I heard him grunt, the sound of my clothes ripping deafened my surroundings. I looked up to the night sky, just past his head. Thousands of tiny flickering lights filled the black void. This wasn’t my body anymore, the stars were my home. I felt myself floating up towards the sky, high above the scatter of thin clouds and into the atmosphere. 

He forced himself into me, dragging me back down to earth. I plummeted back into my body, jolting in pain and gasping for air that never gave me the satisfaction of filling my lungs. 

I focussed back on the sky, trying to not hear his moans and grunts. 

The dark void of the night pulled me up again. So high I could see all of Austria. The lake shone in the pale moonlight, the thick forest was like a black hole pulling all of the light into its vacuum. The mountains stood like tall giants against the night, looking like they were watching over the small town, its yellow flickering lights glowed warm.    

My body was a tiny spec down below, in a vacant street hidden in the trees. That body wasn’t mine, that wasn’t me down there being violated, I was up here in the heavens so far away from earth it was nothing but a crumb. 

But I could still hear her, even from so far away. I could hear her stifling sobs and her ragged breath that misted in the cold night air. I could see the shimmer of tears sliding down her cheeks and into her hair that haloed around her head. I could see her blood stained hands curled into fists as she lay perfectly still.  

The man hovered above her, the muscles of his back tensing, then shaking with release. I could see him pull back, leaving the young girl bare and lifeless as she stared up at me. Her cold eyes held no life, they glazed over not present with reality. 

Suddenly I crashed back down to earth, back into the body that wasn’t mine. I gasped for air, the sensation of my skin prickled and tingeld, I wanted it off, I wanted out again. To not be here staring up at the bright moon that tauntingly hung in the night sky. 

But my suffering wasn’t over, the man’s hands latched around my neck. I wasn’t even present enough to jump at his touch, my eyes bulged as he squeezed, cutting off my oxygen supply. I could feel the blood vessels bursting in my sclera, my temples throbbed from the pressure. I clawed at his hands as my vision started to blur. No, no, no! I needed to be conscious. I bucked against him trying to throw his weight, but the crushing sensation of my windpipe never ceased. His grip was strong. 

So I gave up, my body grew slack and heavy. I let my eyes flutter shut and my head loll back. 

I fought the urge to gulp in air as his hands released from my throat. I didn’t dare breathe until I knew I was safe.        

The man’s weight fell from my body, my eyes clamped shut. I used my other senses to try and figure out what he was doing. I dragged in short shallow breaths as I heard his side door open and the jostle of the jeep as he got out of the car. Gravel crunched under his feet, I could hear him walk away and then closer again. 

I stalled my breathing when the door behind me opened. I let my body tumble out of the car as he cursed wildly under his breath. His hands grasped under my armpits as he dragged me off the road. I could feel the texture of the ground change from small sharp rocks to soft grass. 

He grunted as he tossed me, my body rolling down into the ditch on the side of the road. I kept my body as floppy as possible so that he wouldn't suspect I was still alive.  

I lay face up, my arms thrown to the sides of my body as my legs had tangled with each other. I heard him walk back to the car but not get in. I begged silently for him to leave, but his footsteps arrived back to the edge of the bank again. 

Time stood still as I heard the mechanical cock of the gun. 

Five shots rang out in the silence. 

I was surprised I was able to choke back the scream of pain, I clamped my lips shut and prayed. Prayed that he hadn’t seen the jerk of my body as one of the bullets drove into my shoulder. 

I played dead, lying as still as possible, not knowing if he had left or not due to the ringing in my ears. I counted to 100 ten times before I cracked open my eyes. The jeep wasn’t on the side of the road anymore. 

Whimpering in pain I dragged myself up the bank, staying low to the floor. Tire marks imprinted on the gravel road he had left. I finally let myself break down, sobbing hysterically until my voice grew hoarse and the pounding behind my eyes became unbearable. 

Clutching my shoulder I rose to my feet, I fixed my pants and shirt. I gave a humourless laugh, unsure at why I was trying to make myself look presentable after all I had been through.

Hobbling down the road where we had come, I hoped I wouldn’t bleed out before I found someone.     

Malarkey POV:

       

After losing miserably at poker, I had made my way back to the barracks. I didn’t check on Em, knowing she would be tucked up in bed fast asleep by now. 

I had just drifted off to sleep when a pounding on my door caused me to sit bolt right up in bed. I lazily wandered to the door cursing under my breath at whoever it was making such a racket in the middle of the night. 

Swinging open the door I found Bull, and the rest of Easy company half awake and half dressed flowing through the corridor with urgency. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, peering out from my door.  

“When need to go, grab your things.” Bull ushered me out of the room before I could ask anymore questions. “Replacement shot Grant in the head, Speirs has given orders to track him down.” 

I looked at Bull horror on my face, he gave a grim nod confirming my question. This was real and not a sick joke.  

Tab led the men down the hall giving orders to the men. 

“Hey Lieb, he wants a noncom guarding each roadblock and at least two men watching every road out of town.” Tab strode down the hall.

Bull and I fell into stride behind him. 

“Bull, Malark, you each take a squad and one of these witnesses on a house-to-house search.” Tab explained as we followed. 

“Can we shoot this bastard on sight?” I asked. I was ready to beat the shit out of this no good son of a bitch. How dare he shoot Grant in the head. I was ready for a fight. 

“Try and take him alive.” Tab said. 

“Where’s Grant now?” Bull asked from behind me. 

“They took him to a Kraut hospital to see if they could drum up any good doctors.” Tab replied to Bull. 

We each took off to do our respective tasks. I wanted to be the one who found that fucker. 

Maybe say my hand slipped and accidentally shot him in the leg.

But with all the men we had out searching my group didn’t find him first, just my luck. 

They dragged him back to base, gathering in the main lounge. The same lounge we were all in hours before playing poker and laughing. Now the room made my head spin. By the time my men and I arrived the replacement was barely recognisable. 

Tied to a chair in the middle of the room surrounded by angry men, the soldier took a beating. I watched the man’s head snap back as blood poured from his mouth. Easy men were pissed to say the least, they took charge of the beatings. Their fists collided with the man’s face, each with gruesome crunches, as they beat the ever loving shit out of the fucker.  

I stood and watched, there was no need for me to step in, so I watched from the back of the ground with a sick satisfaction as each punch landed. 

The man’s head hung low, too weak to hold it up on his own accord. He spat on the ground, clearing his mouth of the blood. The man only groaned in pain, he didn’t utter a word otherwise. 

The men cheered with each hit. 

The doors swung open, a stoic Captain Speirs stood in the doorway. Taking in the scene before him. I could see under his calm facade the man was raging like the rest of us. The room fell silent as his footfalls hit the soft rug.  

“This him?” He asked, strolling in.

“That’s him.” Bull confirmed. The soldiers surrounding the man stepped back, letting Speirs have room to stand in front of him. 

The man coughed and gagged on his own blood. The room collectively held their breath, unsure of what Speirs was going to do. 

“Replacement. ‘I’ company.” Bull informed the Captain. 

“Where’s the weapon?” Speirs asked calmly. 

“What weapon?” The man replied in a snide tone. I scoffed, how could this person have so little respect. 

Speirs didn’t hesitate, bringing down the butt of his gun and smashing it into the jaw of the man. The replacement's head whipped to the side as blood sprayed from his mouth. 

“When you talk to an officer you say ‘sir’.” Speirs growled in a menacing tone. 

The man chuckled, hanging his head. “Maybe I left it with that whore, Sir.” 

Silence filled the room for a beat, I could feel the tension becoming thicker. I glanced at Martin who shrugged, sharing the same questioning look as me.  

“What whore?” Speirs spat, picking up the man’s head by his hair, getting into his face. The man only flashed a bloodied grin at him. 

“You know, that girl. The pretty medic. What was her name, ah, that’s right Lane. Emily Lane.” The replacement grinned sadistically. 

The room swirled as the air left my lungs. I felt as if I had been slapped in the face.  

That couldn’t be right. Emily was in bed, she was sleeping. Grant had walked her back to- hadn’t he? Or was she with him when it happened. Disbelief clouded my vision, I felt like I could barf. He was wrong, she was safe in bed. 

My heart was pounding in my ears, surely he had to be mistaken. But he said her name, he knew who she was. 

Martin’s hand clamped on my shoulder as he leaned into my vision. I shook with rage and fear. There was no way this was true. Martin’s gaze fixed with mine, he was mouthing something, or he was saying it, I couldn’t understand it either way. My white knuckles clamped at my sides. I waited for someone to speak. 

“What did you do to Emily?” Speirs snarled, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“She just lay there and took it, like a good little slut.” 

Another blow came from Speirs as he struck him again across the face this time with his fist. I hadn’t realised but I had surged forward, both Bull and Martin held me still. 

“Wait boy, we don’t know it’s true yet.” Bull whispered beside me. 

“What did you do to her?” Ron snapped in the man’s face. As he laughed. 

“I had my way with her and then disposed of the evidence.” 

What did he mean by disposing of the evidence? My skin felt like it was on fire, the only thing I could really hear was my erratic heart rate pounding in my ears. I only saw red. Rage shook my body. 

“I’ll fucking kill you!” I roared, surging forward to get to the man. I was held back though, Johnny had a firm grip around me. I looked around the room, the men all looked horrified and disgusted. Their stares could kill. It was silent, as the man coughed up blood. I hoped he would choke on it. I was still trying to fight Martin’s grip. Why was no one doing anything! 

“Get the replacements in here now!” Speirs demanded. Someone left the room and arrived back with two skinny looking men. 

“Who was with you in the car?” Speirs boomed. The two boys shied away from the furious Captain. 

“Answer me!”

“It was us, Sergeant Grant and-” The replacement stalled looking around the room. 

“Who else, private?” Ron seethed with rage, “Who else?” Speirs' voice echoed around the room. 

“The female medic, she said her name was Em.” 

So it was true.

*****************************

Chapter 39

[accirax]

Fourth Anniversary Art Analysis

(Credits to DRDTdev for the art, obviously. Please support the original post.)

Yeah guys, this is definitely Charles, trust me. (/j)

In all seriousness, the reveal of what Teruko's brother (more or less) looks like got me thinking about a couple of things. I'd like to ramble about them in a space less directly linked to the public fourth anniversary art!

The first is that we've (basically) confirmed that Teruko's brother is older than her, something that I don't think we actually technically knew until now! I always got those kind of vibes, but it's nice to know for sure.

The second is something that most people have picked up on-- his white hair color. Between DRDT and altDRDT, the only people who we've seen with white hair up to this point are XF and Dandelion (I think those are the names people agreed upon???). Both of those seem... unlikely to be Teruko's brother, although, for what it's worth, they do both use he/him pronouns. That's not to say that Teruko's brother couldn't have dyed his hair after he and Teruko last parted, and still be someone else we know, like Teacher. However, I could also easily believe that DRDTdev may have wanted to draw this art as a soft disconfirmation of the "Teacher is Teruko's brother" theory before people got in too deep. It's too bad, though, I did like that one.

One of the reasons why I liked it was because of the synergy with Teruko's favorite color being red due to "association." However, even if Teruko's brother still is Teacher, it seems like he has no red in his design as of the last time Teruko saw him. I suppose red could still be his eye color, but I'm going to take this mean that Teruko's positive association with red is due to somebody else-- likely either Xander or Mai, or possibly still Teacher, but without him being her brother.

Lastly, and most importantly, I find it highly interesting that, at this point in time, Teruko's brother is shown with several scrapes and bandages, while Teruko has absolutely none. It got me thinking about the nature of Teruko's luck.

I wonder if Teruko's bad luck operates in a way where it will hurt whoever is around her until she's the only one left, at which point it has no one to attack but herself. (The only comparison I can think of is to the Death card in the card game Fluxx, so shout out if you know what I'm talking about.)

As long as Teruko is the "protagonist," her luck will go after the "side characters". But, if Teruko isolates herself, then the luck will go after the hero.

Now, there is a bit of contradictory evidence going on here, because Teruko has had unfortunate things happen to her since entering the killing game and being around other people. Most notably, the time that she slipped and fell while holding the cake, and when Xander tried to kill her. That's why I'm wondering if there's also an element of how much Teruko cares about these people involved. Like, if Teruko cares less about someone, they don't pop up as a "side character" punching bag as much. Or, if Teruko caring about someone is the inciting incident to turning an entire group of people into "side characters"-- that way, if she had no friends at any of the schools she attended, she could have avoided dooming them all.

Teruko cared a lot about Xander, so his betrayal was the tipping point. After she took one last blow, the scales tipped and more bad things started happening to the other students than to Teruko. Teruko falling down transformed into the much worse luck of Min dying. And, from then on, the "side characters" started taking the brunt of the bad luck (J's secret being revealed, Eden being bullied and threatened, Ace nearly dying, etc), while Teruko remained mostly fine.

If there is an element of how much Teruko cares about people involved, it would give her a lot of incentive to be a loner and actively make people dislike her.

Anyways, just a thought. This one is pretty off the cuff, so I wouldn't be surprised if I'm missing something or overstepping here.

Happy fourth anniversary DRDT, happy ???th birthday Mai, and a happy day to all of you!

[magnusbae]

tfw u have a Complicated™️ Relationship With An Otherworldly Creature

First of all, I would like to point out that I DID NOT REALIZE WE HAD THAT DISCUSSION ON APRIL FOOL'S DAY.

All I remember is being delirious from lack of sleep and you indulging me by listening to my ravings about a Venom AU for dreamling aND THEN MAKING AN ACTUAL MEME FOR IT!!!

While I don't remember much of what we said that morning, and this meme being perfect for Canon AU also, I will focus my efforts on elaborating on this Venom AU no one had asked for but everybody will be getting!

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

"It's not human, but it's given me things no girlfriend ever could."

Hob Gadling is by no means a man who lacks options. He had fucked, and he had fucked a lot. He dated, he had even married once. He did all there is to be done, from casual to serious and yet... nothing comes close to this, to this bond he shares, to this otherworldly creature living within him, sustaining him, enveloping him, devouring him.

"Beloved," Hob says, feeling the instantaneous warming of his chest. Dream, (That is his name.) (Oh, what a lovely name it is.) often responds in such a manner to terms of endearment. He enjoys them more than he would ever care to admit. All the more incentive for Hob to use them as frequently as humanly possible. Which is to say, a lot.

The low frequency rumbling inside of his chest cavity lets him know that Dream is very much aware and chooses to remain silent on the matter. He is so sweet, actually the sweetest creature in the entirety of existence. It's hard to remember a time when he had thought otherwise, a time in which he was actually terrified of the creature that had decided to use his body as a free-ride.

Yes? Dream finally speaks, tired of waiting for Hob to verbalize his thoughts. His voice is a deep thunder inside of Hob's mind, closer to a loud thought than an actual audible sound. An intrusive thought he would never wish to get rid of. Hob. Strict, impatient, amused. He feels like Dream cannot decide if he's more irritated or amused by Hob's wandering thoughts. Speak.

Hob huffs out a laughter, shaking his head and opening his fist in an invitation. The empty spaces between his fingers are soon filled with claw-like ink black fingers. Dream's hand, firm and strong.

"I was just thinking," Hob closes his hand, squeezing Dream's hand in his, feeling the tightening of Dream's hand in turn. "how it's our anniversary tonight" he closes his eyes, thinking of a year ago, miserable and lost and terrified, with nothing in this world left, running into an alien that by all means was supposed to devour him long ago.

Expect for the miraculous part of them being so perfectly matched that Dream decided to preserve him instead. Tend his body, strengthen it, keep it safe. The only price being that he also gets to live in it. See humanity, learn of it, understand it. It's what he told him, however Hob suspects, knows really, that it was something far more personal.

Dream had filled spaces Hob didn't even know he had. Voids so small you don't know them but you ache them. And if Hob does even a fraction of what Dream does to him— well then, there's the reason.

Yes. Dream rambles, pleased. Anniversary, like marriage. the last word is purred so quietly it's almost like it's Hob's own thought.

"Hold your horses," Hob laughs again, cheeks warming up, he's smiling wide enough to ache "I expect to get properly proposed to, who do you think I am? I ain't cheap, you know" he feels a hand brushing his hip bone, an intimate, possessive gesture that sets a shiver down his groin.

Yes, of course. Dream's finger trace's down the 'V' lines, claw gentle but ever present. Not cheap. Proposal. Indeed. Dream is amused again, the cheeky creature is making fun of him, and that, is damn hot.

Whatever response Hob was about to give is swallowed down with a yelp when Dream takes him into his hand. Hob breathes out, mind blanking as the decidedly inhuman hand starts working on him.

Conversations about propriety can wait. After all, this is so much more interesting. Whatever else you can say about dating a formless alien who resides inside of your body, there's undeniable benefits to them literally sharing your own pleasure. Makes for a very good partner indeed.

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

Written in one go without editing because if I allow myself even a single more hour of thinking how it needs to be PERFECT I will die LMAO.

Brief explanation of Venom for those who didn't watch it! >> under the cut.

Generally speaking, I would imagine that Dream's initial reason was to study, understand, experience a different existence than his own. He had no regard for human life (still doesn't, not in the way a human would) he was perfectly fine with riding human bodies and living their lives until they expired.

Expect Dream had found Hob, a perfect match, a human body that accepted every single cell of him with open arms, way before Hob even realized he loved Dream, his body had already accepted him.

This can have over-complicated plot, and it could be a simply fun-little au. It can have a "fish-bowl" rescue of reported Hob breaking into the Lab where Dream was being experimented on, and it could be Hob's homeless era when on top of everything else going wrong with his life, he also gotten jumped by an alien symbiote in an alley.

It can be anything you wish to imagine, but bottom line is— imagine the intimacy, the bond, the tenderness of sharing a body with a creature that envelopes you whole, who loves you whole, who cares and wants you whole. Body and Soul and Mind, literally, figuratively, everything.

A bond so close you feel like a single being, bond so close you feel you would die if separated. Hob didn't even know he needed it. Hob thought his life was complete, even if shitty at times, he didn't feel any lackings, and yet..... when Dream came into his life, he realized it was an empty shell compared to what it is.

And Dream, who had never felt a connection, only felt rejection after rejection, and then in the case of the lab-trab, the experiments and cruelty. Being loved and accepted and wanted so fully he betrays his entire species to be with Hob.

-----

Essentially, Venom is one specimen of a symbiotic life form that finds a host and bonds with it. It's not easy to find a proper host, if the host is not right, the symbiote would slowly devour the body and eventually kill the human. In the comics canon, a human named Eddie and Venom form a bond, eventually fall in love, and share a very intimate relationship. It's a VERY half-assed explanation, but basically, the symbiote literally lives inside of the human host, and it makes for some......fun dynamics. considering it's a literal alien.

[ursafootprints]

today on "5k worth of a fic idea that I constantly spin around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken but am not invested enough in to actually write:"

Identity porn omegaverse dystopia AU; Peter is an infertile omega who, despite May's attempts to give him the best chances possible by scraping by to get him an education in both domestic skills and academics, has pretty much zero prospects for his future. Sure, she'll take care of him herself as the household alpha for as long as she can, but she knows a time will come when he'll be on his own, and she knows what happens to infertile omegas-- no matter how wonderful of a housekeeper or nanny or tutor she makes him into, who's going to hire him for that in earnest when he could be used for other things on the side, and who's going to marry an omega who can't give them children?

So one day, she’s helping clean up after a charity event for F.E.A.S.T. that was sponsored by Stark Industries, and she accidentally wanders into a back area and overhears something she's not supposed to through a door. Tony Stark himself, venting on a phonecall to a friend about how the executive board is starting to put real pressure on him to marry if he's going to continue to lead SI-- the public is starting to lose faith in him as a good alpha when he refuses to settle down with a beta or omega and share in his gifts as a protector and provider, yadda yadda, and no matter how much he argues that he's being a protector and provider for the whole country through his work at SI they aren't letting up, and he doesn't even want kids and he doesn't want to saddle some poor omega with the burden of being Mr.-or-Mrs. Stark and everything that goes with that, and they're even implying considering a motion of no-confidence, and and and--

May stands there and listens, and thinks about how she doesn't know Tony Stark personally, but he's made the news before by actually hiring highly-educated omegas (from overseas, where that's permitted) for research positions at SI, and she knows that he funds multiple different charities for omegas in distress, and--

She doesn't like being a charity case, but she does have an omega in distress. So she prepares her speech in her head, and once Tony's off the phone she steps into the room with him and closes the door behind her, and she lays it all out.

She has an omega nephew who's infertile, and he's going to be turning 18 in only a few short years, and she already can barely afford to take care of the both of them even with the tax breaks from claiming him as a dependent. So when he turns 18, sooner or later he'll have to go to work, and being an infertile unwed omega with no prospects means that he'll be nothing more than a glorified prostitute in any position he's hired for, no matter what his supposed job title says. He has the skills to be the perfect househusband, or hell, even a lab assistant if Tony doesn't mind training him up a little, he's smart and he's as educated as May could make sure of, and fine, yeah, he's pretty. And he's on the brink of a life of misery, and May does not want that for him, to the point that she's willing to ask for help from an alpha that she doesn't know and has no reason to actually trust, but if what Tony needs is a sham marriage where he'll get to prove he actually does have all those necessary alpha instincts that make him a good leader, without the expectation or even the possibility of children--

Tony cuts her off eventually, initially disgusted that he's being offered some kind of child husband as a solution to his problems and that May's apparently willing to pawn her nephew off on the nearest rich scumbag, but May straightens her shoulders and makes it clear: she would continue to scrape by for Peter as long as possible, but a day is going to come when that's not going to work anymore, and as much as it hurts her to do, giving Peter away to someone that at least has an incentive to treat him well is the best option she has. She puts it back on Tony: she's only offering Peter to some rich scumbag if he is one, so is he? Or is he actually willing to put his money where his mouth is and protect an omega in need, and help himself out in the process?

Tony sends her away without answering, and she's deflated over it for all of a day, because the next day she gets a phonecall to arrange a first date.

Peter is nervous when May explains it to him and apologizes for arranging things without his input, but also thrilled, because one of the things that May left out when she was describing Peter to Tony was that Peter is huge fan of his. Even aside from the fact that marrying Tony might genuinely be an escape from a very grim future, having Tony Stark as a husband is just unbelievable to think about, after Peter had all but given up on the idea of getting to be married at all once his infertility was diagnosed. It might be nerve-wracking too, marrying someone over twice his age that he'll barely get a chance to know before the wedding, and Peter hopes and hopes that Tony is as good of an alpha as he seems to be from television and magazines, but-- he can't help but be excited.

So he meets Tony at the tower for a lunch date, and Peter does his best to present himself with perfect manners and deference and charm because he doesn't really know how to put his best foot forward otherwise-- Tony's rich enough to have staff for the cooking and cleaning and homecare even if Peter wasn't any good at it, and after you take that and minding any children out of the picture Peter doesn't really know what he has to offer as an omega. (Well, he does, but Tony's expression turns sour at even the slightest hint of flirtation, and Peter doesn't know whether to be relieved that Tony obviously isn't after him just for his capacity to take a knot or terrified that maybe Tony isn't interested in him at all.) But then Tony directs the conversation toward Peter's studies instead, and-- Peter leaves still feeling unsure over Tony's feelings, but during that part of the conversation Tony did at least perk up and ask a lot of questions and even smile, so that's something.

Their next meeting is more of a business meeting than anything, so May is a bigger part of the conversation than Peter is. She negotiates the potential marriage contract aggressively in Peter's favor, to a point that even Peter is shocked by-- they don't even have a dowry to offer, so their bargaining power is next to nothing-- but Tony just shrugs and accepts all of her conditions, and even makes suggestions that May and Peter don't think to ask for.

And after agreeing to draw up a contract that includes all of May's demands, Tony turns to Peter and explains exactly what being Mr. Peter Stark will involve-- the incessant gossip and prying into Tony and Peter's private life, including Peter's infertility, the criticism from the press on Peter's looks and clothing and behavior every time Peter goes out in public, the fact that a lot of the people Tony has to keep company with are not at all progressive about omegas and Tony will do his best to protect Peter from that, but shutting the bullshit down in the aftermath won't shield Peter from having to hear it in the first place, the fact that Peter might find himself lonely with the huge shift in class if his friends grow distant or fake once he has money, etc. etc.

He makes it clear that he wants to be absolutely sure that Peter knows what he's signing up for, and that Peter's really thought it through before anyone signs anything. And Peter is touched by the gesture, but of course none of that is anything near as bad as what he has waiting for him otherwise, so-- a week later the paperwork is finalized and signed, Peter has his first kiss in front of his aunt and Tony's closest friend, and he becomes Tony Stark's husband.

He's nervous but not scared when Tony takes him to his new home and gives him the tour. He hasn't known Tony long, and he's heard the horror stories of alphas that were sweet and adoring right up until the wedding night, but-- Tony had been so concerned about Peter's comfort when they were negotiating the contract, and it even included clauses that would allow Peter to leave him, with something called alimony, so Peter feels pretty secure in the thought that Tony will at least be gentle with him, if not actually-- passionate.

But then Tony leads him past the bedroom with nothing more than a quick peek and a, "This is my room; feel free to find me in here if you need me," and takes Peter to another room down the hall where he stops and says, "Here's yours. The movers got here earlier, so feel free to change things around if it's not set up how you want it, and I got some new things for you that you'll need."

The 'new things' turn out to be a collection of beautiful suits and dress shoes and other accessories, and not-- what Peter thought they might be-- and the room is fully set up and organized, Peter's trinkets and tech scraps sorted into tasteful bins or proudly displayed. Peter's twin bed from his apartment with May has been replaced by a queen, and that he was expecting, but the bedding is a close match to what he had before, and the whole thing gives the impression of a stylish update to his childhood bedroom.

He's flattered and touched and a little embarrassed-- the room doesn't exactly scream 'married man,' but he does love it, and it was such a sweet gesture on Tony's part-- but Tony brushes off his breathless thanks in favor of talking about their plans for tomorrow. Tony wants to take him shopping-- Peter can wear whatever he wants, Tony says, but he thought Peter might appreciate some new casual options now that he was married, and they can go back to the bespoke place that Tony had given his measurements to for the suits if Peter wants some more formal options as well-- and then maybe to lunch, as a low-key introduction of the new Mr. Peter Stark to the world before they start having to tackle galas and red carpets.

And Peter is beside himself with gratitude and awe at Tony's thoughtfulness, and rapidly losing even the expected jitter of first-time nerves the longer they talk, and he makes his smiles soft and shy and inviting as the conversation starts to wind down--

But then Tony just claps him awkwardly on the shoulder with a, "Well, good night," and goes off down the hallway to his bedroom, leaving Peter lingering confused and a little disappointed in his own doorway without even a kiss.

At first Peter thinks Tony is just being overly-conscientious of Peter's comfort, so he does his best to show Tony that he's perfectly comfortable and that he trusts Tony and he's ready without being overly suggestive about it-- he still remembers how Tony reacted when Peter tried to flirt with him on their date-- but three days into their honeymoon week, Peter has met several of Tony's friends and eaten in fabulous restaurants and bought enough new things to make his head spin, but he still hasn't even been scented, much less anything else.

So that third night, he takes a risk on the idea that Tony needs him to be more overt about communicating his comfort, and when Tony tells him good night Peter leans in for a kiss. Just something chaste, nothing that should put Tony's hackles up if he finds immodest omegas a turn-off-- but Tony actually puts a hand against his shoulder and leans away, and Peter's stomach drops to his feet.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologizes immediately, weakly, chilled to the bone by what he can only interpret as the disgust in Tony's expression. Tony-- Tony wasn't affectionate, but Peter had never thought for a second that Tony hated him; it didn't even make sense that Tony would hate him when he had been so kind. "I'm so sorry-- I didn't-- I thought--"

"No-- Peter, you're fine," Tony sighs, but he doesn’t drop his hand from Peter's shoulder, holding him firmly at a distance. "I'm not-- we're not doing that. Okay? It's nothing personal; you're just too young for me."

"But I'm your husband," Peter says blankly, not quite processing what that could possibly mean.

"I know, and the fact that that's even allowed is an absolute failure of our legal system," Tony says with a grimace, finally letting go of Peter but shifting back two steps. "Look, I'm-- did your aunt not talk to you about this? I'm going to be a good alpha for you, you can do whatever you want and I'll make sure you stay safe and you have whatever you need to be happy, but this is just an on-paper thing, kid. You don't have to put yourself out there to get abused by knothead alphas; I don't have to bring kids into this world to screw up; we both get to have society see us as a healthy pair of red-blooded Americans mated to a different designation just like god intended. You don't have to do anything for me that you don't want to."

And Peter had known that it was mostly political-- well, that it was all political; he doesn't kid himself for a moment that he actually has anything to offer Tony that the man seems to be interested in-- but he hadn't realized the extent to which they weren't even going to pretend. People got married for political reasons all the time, but they still made the best of it-- they were still affectionate, they were still intimate, they were still partners--

The words 'what about my heats' almost make their way out of Peter's mouth before he remembers to keep things focused on his alpha's needs, not his own, and he says, "What about your ruts?"

"I'll handle them the same way I have for the last thirty-something years of my life?" Tony shrugs, brushing the idea off like it's nothing, but he must see the lingering conflict in Peter's expression. He sighs, and awkwardly ventures, "And for your heats... You can handle them however you have been so far, or you can buy some toys, or-- hell, if you want to find a strapping young alpha to help you through them, that's fine with me."

Peter is horrified.

"You want me to cheat on you?"

But Tony is just as dismissive of that as everything else, and he just says, "There's no fidelity clause in our marriage contract."

Peter doesn't know how to feel. Being with Tony so far has felt like a dream, and this-- this is still so much better than the alternative, this sham half-relationship where he's apparently meant to be-- Tony's ward moreso than his actual partner, so he knows it's entitled, he knows he shouldn't say it and that he's still making out like a bandit regardless of Tony's answer and he shouldn't even expect anything else, but--

"Are you going to cheat on me?" he asks, voice tiny, and Tony goes still.

It takes him a long time to answer. Enough time that Peter has started trying to acclimate himself to that reality-- being one of those omegas that everyone looks at with pity and shakes their heads over, whose alphas come home every day smelling like someone else, and-- well, it wasn't like anyone had ever been going to believe that he was enough to keep a leash on Tony Stark anyway, so it's stupid to be upset about it; people were going to assume Tony was cheating on him whether it was true or not. He can deal with that. It's fine.

"No," Tony says finally, slowly. "I-- kid, I'm sorry, I thought you knew how this was going to work. But no, I'm not going to cheat on you. The whole point is for me to be a good alpha to you, not to make you miserable."

"What about me being a good omega to you?" Peter asks, pressing his luck; his knees are already weak with relief so he doesn't know why he can't keep his mouth shut and stop talking back, but he's just-- in shock.

Tony grimaces again, shaking his head, and says, "I don't need you to be a good omega to me, kid; I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself. What kind of person do you want to be? Do you want to-- study science and learn to build computers, do you want to design new LEGO sets, do you want to do music or travel the world or run charities like your aunt? Worry about that. Figure out what you want to do and tell me and we'll make it happen, but don't worry about me."

And it is a dream come true, being told he can be or do whatever he wants-- who said stuff like that, who let their omegas behave that way?-- but Peter is still stuck, because--

"What if I want to worry about you?"

"You don't," Tony says bluntly, such an abrupt shutdown that it doesn't even hurt. "You've just been told that's the only thing you're good for your entire life, so you think it's what you're supposed to do, but it's not true."

And Peter-- doesn't know whether to be offended, not that he could act on it even if he did. It is offensive, being told his own mind, but he can see that Tony's frustration is for him and not at him, and that this is Tony trying to-- be sweet, somehow, in his own way--

Tony says, "You have so many better things you could be doing than wandering around after me in case I need something, all right? I'm a big boy; I can get my own snacks and pick up my own socks. So let's figure out what your 'better things' are."

--And Peter is still utterly befuddled by it, and doesn't really understand what Tony is getting at with how he's been essentially groomed to be obedient/deferential and suppress his own needs in favor of his alpha's, and he's still nursing a little bit of hurt and disappointment and grief that Tony doesn't want him at all and that their marriage is nothing but a mask all the way down, but.

They spend the rest of their honeymoon week with Peter trying out different things and getting different experiences to see if he likes them, and by the time Tony goes back to work, Peter has a private tutor to help him get an education past the last level that was available to him as an unmarried omega, and his own workspace in the apartment for his tinkering, and a personal chaperone so that he can go to whatever museums or expos he wants with an extra layer of security beyond what just his wedding ring provides.

It works, even though it still chafes Peter a bit to be treated essentially as a foster child instead of a husband, especially when he's in heat and Tony tends to him like an alpha parent does for an omega child instead of like a lover, and especially when they travel overseas and Tony actually takes his wedding ring off and won't introduce Peter as his mate.

("I'm not trying to cheat on you, Pete; things are just different here," Tony explains, and Peter doesn't get it because everyone already knows that Tony Stark is married and who to, but-- things are different overseas, and it is a little bit thrilling to see omegas wandering around so freely, living whatever lives they want to lead, and Peter is too nervous to go exploring without Tony or Happy anyway but the idea that he could is incredible.)

But they fall into a routine, and Peter's still so grateful for getting to live a life alongside Tony even if it isn't exactly what he had pictured.

And then-- and here's why the "not going to actually write it" disclaimer, 3k words in, because that would allllllllllllllll just be set-up for:

Peter goes on a tour of the Osborn building as a part of his science education, and he's trying to get more comfortable with not needing a chaperone when he's out in public because maybe Tony will start treating him more like an adult if he tries to be more independent, so he doesn't stay put and wait while his tutor is in the bathroom, aaaaand he gets bit by a radioactive spider.

And as he's realizing in the aftermath how it's changed his body-- how he's strong now, stronger than any alpha, stronger than ten alphas-- he starts... thinking about things. About all those vigilantes he's heard of, out on the streets, putting themselves at risk to protect people. About how many times he's had to walk past omegas with black eyes and 'wedding rings' that they wore around their necks, his head lowered in vicarious shame. About how maybe-- if he was brave enough-- if he could shake off that nervousness that told him he needed a chaperone, that he was doing something wrong by being an omega out on his own--

So he does.

Tony bites his tongue about it when Peter starts going out on his own, because he's stressed to Peter over and over how he wants Peter to do whatever he wants, and he genuinely doesn't know where the line between 'controlling alpha' and 'responsible adult' is when he's married to a literal child, but he relaxes when Peter starts coming back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and thriving with his new independence.

...Until he sees enough clips of this "Spider-man" that it piques his interest, and does enough research to figure out who it is.

He and Peter fight about it, which is wild and new because Peter never actually talks back to him, raised with those perfect omega manners, and only ever gently questions Tony during those moments where all Tony's doing is trying not to treat him like a piece of property.

But Peter throws all of that back in his face now, arguing that Tony is the one who always says that Peter should do what makes him happy, he should do whatever he wants, and he shouldn't base his entire life around what he thinks Tony wants because he's his own person, and this makes him happy, this is the 'better thing' that he can be making of his life if Tony's not going to give him the dignity of at least pretending he has any value as a husband--

And Tony doesn't know how to argue about it, because he has said all those things, but Peter is also a child and it's not right for him to be throwing himself around putting himself in danger like that, and-- and also he didn't know Peter was so fucking bitter about Tony not treating him as an actual spouse, and he hates that for Peter because it's not going to change anytime soon but it's also fascinating, somehow, to hear Peter be sharp with him after nearly a year of nothing but polite deference--

He rubs a hand over his face and says, "Pete, if any of those alpha criminals get their hands on you--"

And Peter takes a liberty he's never taken before-- he hasn't tried to touch Tony on his own initiative at all since that failed attempt at a kiss, except to shrink against his side when he was uncomfortable in public-- and takes Tony's wrists gently in hand and walks him back until Tony's pinned to the wall without a single hint of strain, and he just says, "Try."

He's not mean or even condescending about it, instead watching Tony with a plaintive plea for Tony to understand. So Tony accepts the challenge, and-- he's seen the videos, he did know how fucking strong Peter had to be to do those things, but it's not until he's struggled fruitlessly against Peter's grip to the point that he's breathless with it that it really, truly sinks in.

So then he's standing there, red-faced and panting and pinned to the wall by Peter's unfaltering grip around his wrists, and he registers the way that Peter's expression has changed, all dark-eyed and flushed even though holding Tony in place clearly wasn't a strain for him at all, and he registers how close they're standing to each other, and he registers how heavy Peter's scent is in the air, all warm honey sweetness--

And he says, "All right, fine, you win," because he suddenly needs to not be having this conversation anymore.

He does take some steps, though. He builds Peter a better suit, and he loads it with an AI to take care of him and to alert Tony if Peter starts getting in over his head. And Peter accepts it with genuine gratitude, and it helps Tony feel a little better, but-- Peter gets hit so hard sometimes, and there are so many situations where Tony wouldn't even have time to intervene before Peter could be critically injured or even dead on the spot, and Tony doesn't honestly know what he thinks he would be able to do about it if Peter did get in over his head, it's not like he has super powers--

But then he gets to thinking, and in all honesty, it's not like he needs actual superpowers, is it? When he could just build himself something. Something that would let him actually help Peter while he was out there, fighting for the good of a world that would've thrown him to the wolves in half a second if Tony hadn't intervened, if May Parker hadn't had the strength to ask for help-- and if for some reason Peter seems to hate it when Tony actually speaks into his heroing, like it's some kind of insult that Tony wants him to be safe, maybe he'll accept some help from someone else--

Peter doesn't know what to think of Iron Man when he comes on the scene, at first. It's a little irritating how often he tries to tell Peter to hang back, when he clearly doesn't even have the same amount of experience that Peter does, but it's not too long before Iron Man's deferring to Peter instead, and then it's not too long after that that they become a pretty good team. And once Iron Man learns to treat him as an equal, Peter finds that he's funny and thoughtful and sweet, and he tells Peter whatever he wants to know about how the armor works, and--

Peter has never for a second actually considered exploiting the lack of an infidelity clause in his and Tony's marriage contract. But there is something a little-- addictive, about having the respect and attention of this brilliant armor-clad alpha, when his actual alpha still treats him like a child, and he starts... thinking.

And Tony has never for a second actually thought of Peter as an actual mate. He's too young; that would be-- disgusting. But-- Peter's almost an entirely different person in the suit, or maybe he's just an entirely different person when he's not with Tony-- his alpha-- because Spider-man is all sass and vinegar and unyielding strength of character, and Tony wishes that Peter would bring some of that home with him instead of the return of his unending soft-spoken deferential politeness, because if he did--

If he did--

On second thought, Tony's not going to think about it.

[communistkenobi]

if you don't feel like taking the time to explain this to a random person I totally understand lol I will continue to look elsewhere to form an opinion. but I'm torn on not voting for biden, because I do understand the motive. he's terrible, teaching the democratic party a hard lesson is overdue. they need to be taught once and for all that they need to actually fucking deliver on their lofty virtuous promises or they will lose all support. on the other hand if you're following closely the shit trump's people are spewing right now he just keeps getting worse and worse and overtly fascist and ambitious, it's incredibly frightening atp, it's obvious that he will only make everything that's bad now in the usa and in palestine and everywhere else 10000x worse for a long time to come, I just don't know if the damage from another trump presidency is a worthy price to pay to stick it to joe

I’m going to be blunt, but I genuinely do not mean this in a rude or condescending way, I invite you to think about this deeply: do you legitimately think that if the democrats get re-elected they’re going to stop any of the horrific shit the republicans want to implement, either domestically or overseas? Has their track record given you any hope that that will happen? If you vote for them as they gleefully, openly carry out a genocide, literally what incentive do they have to stop Republicans at all? If their voter base is that secure, that loyal, what incentive do they have to protect their constituents or address their needs when in power? Protecting Roe v Wade was what made voting for Biden an existential necessity in 2020 and that still got trashed! People are still in cages at the US-Mexico border! Cop city is being built in Atlanta! Police brutality against Black people continues unabated! Pipelines are still being built on indigenous land (DAPL happened under Obama)! The threat against minority populations, the truly disadvantaged and oppressed people inside the US, are already living with this violence on a daily basis and have lived with it regardless of who is in office. To assume the threat of fascist violence has not yet arrived, has not yet been developing for decades, is to ignore these things.

I do not think the democrats need to be ‘taught a lesson’ or that you need to ‘stick it to Joe.’ The Democrats are not failing to deliver on their promises - these are their promises. Even on a purely self-interested level, ignoring the genocide currently happening, you are not going to be protected from fascists domestically by voting blue no matter who. Certainly there are local elections and movements were there is genuine progressive potential (Ohio just voted to legalise weed and support abortion, a legit good thing that was absolutely worth going out and voting for), but that is not the reality of the national party. The primary language available to voters as voters is to stop voting for them.

The fascist right in the US (both ‘populist’ groups like qanon and the proud boys, as well as institutional groups like the federalist society, the heritage foundation, etc, the list is endless, not to mention evangelical churches) is organised and developed enough that they will continue to hold power and influence regardless of who is in office. The genocide happening in Palestine right now, carried out by a democrat, is not a neatly contained far-away thing that can be separated from domestic politics (I am not claiming you’re making that argument, only trying to articulate my own point) - it is already having a profound and measurable impact on the US population in the form of increased racist, islamophobic and antisemitic violence, mass police brutality, institutional silencing and firing of anyone who even says the word genocide, etc. I think it’s productive to view those actions as developing fascist actions, actions which are being stoked by a democrat. And if they are not outright fascist, they are certainly a precursor to it. In the last couple years there have been a lot of stupid, incompetent demonstrations by the far right in the US - Unite the Right rally, the storming of the capitol, Qanon-motivated assaults and murders like the attempted plot to kidnap the Michigan governor, that one mob guy who was murdered by a Qanon follower in New York I think, Alex Jones being a national figurehead for the conspiratorial and openly fascist right (although he’s probably not going to continue to be that now that he lost a billion dollars in his court cases lol), the “stop the steal” legal attempt to contest the results of the 2020 election - these are ridiculous and on-the-surface ineffective attempts to express a fascistic will onto USAmerican institutions (“inchoate fascism,” a fascism not yet fully formed, a fascism in an experimental phase). But I think the genocide in Palestine is allowing for the effective version of those things to be done in the US. The hysteria, the rage, the violence that this genocide is producing “at home” is not going to dissipate if a democrat continues to hold office, and the Palestinian genocide is both an organising force for the current fascist right and an inciting force for it to further develop and grow. This larger debate about voting or not voting seems to be operating on the (correct) assumption that foreign policy is not a meaningful realm of difference between democrats and republicans, that the only space to battle over is domestic affairs. But absent from this debate is that these two things can’t be neatly partitioned, they are not separate, not just because you should view all human life as equally worth preserving but because we are seeing the mass domestic response within the US about Palestine - the popular resistance to it on the one hand and the institutional support for it on the other. The early 2000s US culture (“post-9/11”) is widely regarded as incredibly right-wing, and that was because of the war in Iraq! Foreign policy produces and shapes US culture, and the genocide in Palestine a colonial and fascist project.

This is not an argument for despair, or to do nothing. Fascism is not defeated by voting regardless of who you’re voting for, and so we can dispense with that idea. If you want to exercise your civic responsibilities, there are many other avenues - labour unions, community work, protests, boycott organising, and yes even voting in local elections when there is a strategic advantage to do so - things that are meaningful and do legitimately help people. But I do not see any strategic calculus in voting for democrats. Biden already told everyone this - “nothing will fundamentally change.” There should be no surprise, no expectation that they will do anything except what they’re already doing, which is business as usual

[kwanzaa-wakanda]

Why you don't know anyone who celebrates Kwanzaa

"Because no one cares"

"Because it's a sham holiday made by a con artist"

"Because it's dumb"

"Because no True African would ever celebrate Kwanzaa."

These are all bad faith arguments. They aren't meant to actually explain why, and do more to devalue the holiday as well as people who celebrate it or at least respect it.

So, why don't you know people who celebrate Kwanzaa? After all, you have so many Black friends, or maybe even you are Black yourself, shouldn't Kwanzaa be everywhere?

This post is a bit long, and some points are explored more deeper than others, but I think this will provide an explanation that's actually pretty fair and common sense. The short version:

Kwanzaa is a newer, anti-consumerist holiday that does not appeal to every single Black person. And that's okay!

1. Kwanzaa is a newer holiday.

Kwanzaa is only about 60 years old. It's not going to be as popular as Christmas. Other holidays, say Veteran's Day, Memorial Day, or Martin Luther King Jr. Day are about as old or even younger than Kwanzaa, so why are they celebrated more widely? Well, it helps that they're all federal holidays with a state structure to back them up. Individual people can celebrate those holidays, but they don't have to, institutions celebrate them for us by giving us time off work and making a public statement (maybe a donation or two). Other than that, those holidays are largely upheld by community events, just like Kwanzaa (more on this later).

The types of family traditions we associate with Christmas take generations to build. Even other older holidays like Mother's Day don't have any real traditions inherently associated with them--we all give our moms a gift but beyond that, everyone engages with it differently.

New holidays need time to catch on. Institutional structures help speed that process along, but Kwanzaa doesn't really have that. So it's going to be slower than others in terms of attracting people.

2. Kwanzaa is anti-consumerist inherently.

In America, consumerism makes up a very large part of how people engage in holidays. Note that I'm not saying "people only celebrate other holidays for consumerist reasons", I am saying that a lot of the driving forces that 'remind' us to take holidays seriously in the US are market forces. We're inundated with advertisements, sales, and decorations that help create a 'feeling' of the holiday (be it Christmas, Valentine's Day, Halloween, etc) which also make it easier to engage with the holiday. We can get the supplies we need at the store. If we don't have plans then there's probably a business throwing a party around that time to keep us entertained. Gift-giving and feast preparation is expressed through buying products en masse so we prepare financially. Holiday specific media sculpts our collective understanding of the holiday's themes even if we don't engage directly.

Kwanzaa, as an explicitlyanti-consumerist holiday, doesn't lend itself to that level of cultural zeitgeist in the US. People exchange gifts and decorate places for Kwanzaa, but commerce during Kwanzaa is typically kept within Black communities through dealing directly with (small) Black Owned businesses. Given that most corporations in the US are white owned, there's very little reason for the market structure to incentive our continued engagement in Kwanzaa. The passive acknowledgement that it's a holiday that exists is the most we can really hope for.

Imagine Halloween without candy sales, Spirit Halloween stores, Halloween parties or costume nights at our favorite restaurants and bars. Imagine no horror movies coming out in October! In a world like that, I and many other people would still celebrate Halloween, but it wouldn't be as easy, and a lot of people probably wouldn't acknowledge it at all, because it isn't as easy.

Kwanzaa explicitly resists the market forces that help holidays stay in our daily lives. We all value our holidays beyond those forces, but we can't deny the very heavy role they play. We can argue that such market forces are morally neutral or even good, but not in this post--whatever your view of holiday consumerism, it's critical to understand that Kwanzaa was organized specifically for people who don't appreciate such consumerism.

3. Kwanzaa does not appeal to all Black people equally.

I think this is one of the hardest points for people both within and outside the community to grasp. The holiday is for Black people, and is meant to appeal to as broad a sampling of Black people as possible. That doesn't mean it will appeal to everyone, though.

The target audience for Kwanzaa is Black people, regardless of nationality, who believe in a shared political unity, heritage, and cultural engagement of all Black people regardless of nationality.

Thing is, not all Black people believe in or value those things. Not all Black people are Pan-Africanist, Afrocentrist, or Black Nationalist, or any other Negritude philosophy. These philosophies are widespread in politics and scholarship, but outside of those dimensions of life engagement with them gets complicated.

You may have heard that "no Africans celebrate Kwanzaa" this is largely true because Africans live in families and communities where their African heritage is already affirmed through other means, including other holidays. Kwanzaa therefore doesn't appeal to them, even if they do believe in all it's themes. Such people may go to Kwanzaa events if invited, but they likely wouldn't hold them for themselves.

Many in the African Diaspora understand their identity most immediately by the region they settled in, and only have a distant sense of African identity. They don't deny being African or having African heritage, but they see being Caribbean, or Brazilian, or American as more relevant. Kwanzaa therefore doesn't appeal to them as it's not specific enough.

Kwanzaa is not closed to any Black demographic and actively encourages all of us to celebrate it. But not all of us will find it appealing.

I would compare Kwanzaa to a holiday like Easter--its a Christian holiday meant to appeal to all Christians equally. But if you aren't church-going and have no children in the family, you probably don't celebrate Easter to any meaningful extent, or your engagement is so personal that it isn't considered very mainstream or traditional.

The point I'm trying to make is: holidays aren't guaranteed to appeal to everyone in their target demographic. Though the reasons why diverge, not every Christian celebrates Easter, not every Black person celebrates Kwanzaa.

4. Communal Kwanzaa celebration is more popular than in-home, but that also carries some drawbacks to it.

Whenever people interested in celebrating Kwanzaa ask me how to get started, I often tell them to look into community celebrations. They're usually put on by churches (perhaps even mosques), community centers, cultural activity groups, or political groups. And therein lies the problem--if you don't live in close proximity to that type of Black community, or the community is invisiblized, then even if there are communal Kwanzaa celebrations to check out you probably won't know about them.

You can't just ask a random Black person about a Kwanzaa event, typically. My advice is to tell people to check out a Black bookstore (and, if available, an African cultural store or an Afro spiritual store). The types of people organizing Kwanzaa events are usually those deeply enmeshed in cultural and political Black discourses, particularly those that affirm an African heritage. But such people aren't found everywhere. In my experience, you can find such people and spaces in most major cities, and so a Kwanzaa celebration probably isn't too far away either. Everywhere else, though...

The only other option to find Kwanzaa celebrations, in my experience, are through Black student clubs in colleges. Not all of them do Kwanzaa activities due to many factors (cost, timing, interest, etc), but my undergrad college did and I know that others throughout the country do. However, such activities may not be open to the public (again, for varying reasons -- cost, timing, interest, college policy...).

When people ask about personal celebration, they usually ask about in-home celebration, treating community celebrations or celebrations in schools as less serious or legitimate. Kwanzaa in general is itself rare, but the idyllic in-home celebration is even rarer -- I myself was raised engaging in Kwanzaa almost entirely through community rather than in-home celebrations (though I started doing in-home for myself in recent years).

---

How, then, should we treat people who celebrate Kwanzaa, or even the non-Black people who don't celebrate it but acknowledge it as a valid holiday?

Honestly, I don't get why that has to be a question. Sure, it's a very marginal holiday, but it's also harmless to treat it respectfully and try and make room in your life in case you ever come across someone who does celebrate it.

I made this post because I often see this idea that people were "tricked" about Kwanzaa. I fail to see what harm has transpired. I don't get why people use their lack of awareness of Kwanzaa or Black communities that celebrate it as a "gotcha" that proves Kwanzaa is a scheme. When I do try to understand the logic underlying this, I come back to this idea that holidays and cultures have to earn respect and validation, that being included in our American idea of "Holiday Time" requires that holidays have a certain number of people we already respect, whom would be offended otherwise.

But that isn't a perspective that I share. I can't say how many people need to celebrate a holiday in America before I stop thinking it an insult or a lie that said holiday be included next to Christmas in a holiday greeting; the number doesn't exist because I don't hold Christmas or Hannukah in so high esteem. I value Christmas in as much as I recognize other people value it, the same is true of Hannukah and Yule (and even the pagan witches I've known didn't celebrate Yule). To me, the only thing one needs to be worthy of consideration as one of The Holidays is to simply be celebrated by people around this time of year.

[cbrownjc]

Don't you think that if Louis had said to Daniel something along those lines: "I know human life might not sound appealing to you, in fact if you're honest with yourself you're already down deep and struggling... but it doesn't have to be this way, you can find beauty in yourself and people around you, you can create something beautiful with another person [...]" that that would've worked as a strong enough subconscious incentive for Daniel to actually create maybe not a perfect life but at least a life where he didn't ruin other people's lives and led a life he could actually feel proud of (maybe something along those lines: living as a poor man but with a loving family and trying to live as hero reporter even if not famous; sort of a twist, a combination of what Louis originally said to him - a bright young reporter with a pov - and what I just wrote above - in other words he wouldn't pour all of himself only into his career). At first glance this might reek of mediocrity in all areas but I don't think so, Daniel might've just been able to pull of a healthy work-family balance and a healthy attitude towards himself and others, a hero in his family's eyes.

I don't disagree with you that ofc Daniel had all of the described self-destructive tendencies already in himself but it makes the world of a difference if somebody, especially a frightening, psychotic (to Daniel), powerful ancient vampire points them out to you, especially after Daniel has been through what was the single worst and traumatic experience in his life. People can be highly succeptible to what other people think/say about us in regular conditions, not to say in deeply traumatic one as he was in.

I think with the right words Daniel could've been encouraged to fight and overcome his self-destructive tendencies and not covet the vampire life because he would lose the reason to covet it. I don't think Daniel wanted to be turned into a vampire just because he wanted to use his vampire powers to be some kind of hero; that idea was just an escape for him, an escape from himself, just like drugs. He didn't even think things through when he spurted that, that's why Louis yelled back at his proposal: "have you even been listening to me boy?!!" Because Daniel, as high as he already was, didn't really took the time to actually consider what he was asking for. His statement: "I can be your Lestat, your Claudia [...]" also has that same air of impulsive thinking to it.

Daniel at that time was bright and astute, sure, he had moments of profound insight but that was still unpolished and untrained, a diamond-in-the-rough, that's why he simultaneously had moments of profound clumsiness and inexperience, just as his older version recollects him saying constantly: "[...] and then what?" Surely, there's a big chance his desire to become a vampire was just something made in the spurr of the moment and something he might just have regretted it later.

Hello!

So okay, first of all, I apologize for taking so long to answer this. And with the season being over that will now probably inform my opinion on all of this from when you first asked.

So the thing is I don't necessarily disagree with you. I do think it was possible that Daniel could have been encouraged in that way regarding his life by Louis. And maybe it could have had an effect later in Daniel's life.

But I think the issue is that at least at that moment in time? Daniel didn't put forward an overwhelming desire for that kind of life. Not like how he did about wanting to be a writer/journalist.

You see this in regard to the things Daniel's mind kept using to resist Armand's attempt to accept death. Everything Daniel said outside of just not having any desire to die period was in so way related to being a journalist. Even the "bright young reporter with a point of view" comment was something Daniel said first about himself, not Louis.

I think that shows how much Daniel's own identity of self and self-worth was tied up into being a writer, being a journalist.

Yes, Daniel had a fear about ending up in a relationship like his parents appeared to have, with kids who shied away from him. But I'm not sure that fear was as tied up in his -- then present -- sense of self as being a journalist was for him.

The idea of having a better family life of his own wasn't what his mind went to when trying to resist Armand's death pull. Being that "bright young reporter with a point of view" was.

And I think that may also be the reason Louis also specifically latched onto that when he gave Daniel those words of encouragement -- because they were, at heart, Daniel's own about himself that gave him the type of reinforcement to even in some little way fight against Armand's intent.

So while I do think Louis could have also given supporting words about how Daniel wouldn't have the type of family life he feared, I'm not sure that Daniel himself felt strongly enough in that way about himself -- about himself one day having such a positive framework in contrast to his fear -- that it would have worked. Maybe it would have -- I wouldn't say it never could have, as I don't feel I have enough information about Daniel's family life as a whole to make such a call. But I'm not certain it could have.

[tanadrin]

You're not wrong about anything wrt cost of flying, but man is it bracing to wake up to a reminder that I can never ethically see most of my loved ones in-person again.

hmm. i think this is also the wrong way to think about it. flying is not a sin. being in some indirect way responsible for a certain amount of carbon emissions does not Taint Your Soul. and absolutist frameworks for this kind of thing are not helpful to anybody, least of all the people who actually might already be contributing to fixing problems like this through positive behaviors, like voting or political organizing.

the problem with carbon emissions is that they're a difficult to solve collective action problem, where a lot of the incentives point in a harmful direction, not that they are Fundamentally Immoral, and i think that's an important distinction to make, because i think a handful of semi-scrupulous individuals flagellating themselves and depriving themselves of things that would make them happy in the long run has no real effect on big problems like this. you not seeing your family is not going to fix global warming! and there are not enough people who are willing or able to act on guilt alone to refrain from flying that it's going to meaningfully dent emissions from the air transport sector.

what we need are policies that shape collective decisionmaking. this is why a fat carbon tax (especially when coupled with a rebate for lower-income people) can be a useful policy: it might make it harder to fly to visit family, but it won't make it categorically impossible, and it will reduce air travel in general, or encourage finding lower-carbon alternatives that allow people to travel just as much, like high-speed trains or, i don't know, some kind of fancy jet fuel that emits less CO2.

honestly, if you vote consistently for pro-environmental policies and parties, if you donate a bit of spare cash from time to time to the same, and/or if you are minimally politically active in other ways, and you're not, like, the CEO of BP in your professional life, you are fine. go, free from sin. if everyone did that, the problem of carbon emissions could be solved in a few years. now, you might go, "but not everyone is doing that!" well, not everyone is sitting at home miserable because they missed seeing grandma on her deathbed; that won't solve global warming either. in fact, it will do even less to solve global warming, because it is (and i say this with compassion) an anxious, guilt-ridden, useless gesture meant to salve your own spirit, not actually a contribution to solving the problem.

in general, i am really opposed to letting a vast and nebulous sense of guilt on big, systemic problems shape your personal behaviors. none of the behaviors that these feelings of guilt ban ever contribute to significant or systemic improvements in the problem--guilt is not building nuclear plants or preventing oil from being drilled. and in my experience, the kind of people who feel this guilt are prone to anxiety, maybe as kids were made overly responsible for the emotional state of people around them, and thus feel an outsized sense of responsibility in other areas of their life, and they mistakenly think that 1) this is a healthy way to go through life, 2) if they don't go through life this way they're a Bad Person, and 3) most people (or most people they think of as Good People) feel this way.

i wish to free people from this burden. there are no individual solutions to big collective action problems! and if reading about global warming, or racism, or poverty, or any other big social problem fills you with an enormous sense of guilt and has you wracking your brain for ways you can help by cutting/reducing/abstaining from things in your life, congratulations, you are one of many people in this world who can be at least 300% more selfish and still be a certified Good Person. so, uh, chill.

[goodgirlofglory]

Don’t worry! I didn’t shut down 😂 and thank you for the follow!!

As for the requests, I don’t want to be a bother, so ill try not to overload your asks. Do you also write stories that don’t have any smut? Because, as much as I love the game of hide the eggplant 🍆 😉 I sometimes really just craze a sweet soft story or something that’s angsty with a happy ending.

Like for example, it’s spring/summer early morning, and Bucky being a trained soldier wakes up with the sun. But his partner on the other hand…. Let’s just say she isn’t a morning person. However, today they wake together and lie in bed all soft and sweet and talk about anything, and maybe they both drift back to sleep… and uhh I just melt

Or… Bucky is new to the tower and does not get along with the newest younger avenger member that everyone loves. And they bicker back and forth, and she is so sassy and witty and one ups him every time. And In the end, they have a big argument and she asks why he hates her so much, when she didn’t even do anything. And Bucky basically confesses that he doesn’t hate her. He actually really likes her and is just scared Bec of what he used to do and who he used to be, and the fact that she’s so young and is the sunshine person of the group, and they talk and share the sweetest first kiss 🥹

OMG DID I SAY TOO MUCH LOL 🫢🫠🫠🫠🫠

I just really love Bucky Bec his story is so sad

Anyways, you’re amazing. I hope you have a good day/night 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bestie!! I have something for you! 🌸💖🌸💖🌸

This is for your first prompt and honestly, idk how I feel about what I did with it🙈 Lmk what you think🫶

As for your second prompt, it made me look up a similar draft for a series I wrote long ago, and now I’m super inspired to continue writing on it!!!!😳🙌 A real enemies to lovers, can’t be in a room for two seconds without snapping at each other, but also desperately attracted to each other with Bucky still being very much traumatised and thinking himself completely unworthy of love and affection and reader wanting so much to get along with him and be his friend and potential bed mate iykwim type vibe!!

UUUUGH, like I said before, these prompts you give are so thought provoking and inspiring. I love them, thank you!!!😍

Hope you're having a splendid day/night, enjoy🫶🦋

Sleeping in / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3,5k

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some angst, a few references to smut

Summary: Bucky never considered sleeping in until you - soft, sweet, precious you - started sleeping in his bed.

Bucky’s eyes shot open at precisely 6 AM like they always did. It was a routine ingrained in his very bones at this point. Whether it came from his years as the Soldat, his military training before that or the hard days of his upbringing, for as long as he could remember, he’d always been wide awake and alert at precisely 6 AM. Nowadays he kept a strict morning routine consisting of a short and non-indulgent breakfast, a ten mile jog, short to the point cold shower and then a crossword puzzle before starting his day. It was like clockwork, and Bucky hadn’t really questioned it, nor had any incentive to change it. That was, until you - soft, sweet, precious you - started sleeping in Bucky’s bed. 

Bucky had been blessed with your intimate company for half a year now. He’d never been so nervous as that night he took you out to the beach to watch the stars after three months of dating, and asked you to go steady with him in the light of the bonfire. Nor had he ever felt such blissful, perfect relief and elation as when you’d thrown your arms around his neck and squealed in his ear. 

“Yes, yes, oh my god, of course I do, Bucky,” you’d exclaimed, damn near rupturing his ear drum. He’d only wrapped his own arms tighter around you and nuzzled into the hollow of your throat, grinning like a dolt against your skin before peppering it with kisses, working his way up to your lips, his heart soaring in his chest. You’d made love for the first time right there in the sand, his cock drawn out of his fly and your panties pulled to the side, clothes awkwardly askew and sand getting everywhere, but it had been absolutely perfect. 

From that point on, It didn’t take long for the two of you to become virtually inseparable, spending meals and nights and whatever spare time you had with each other. Bucky just couldn’t help it, he became completely and ardently addicted to you. Your scent, your warmth, your laughter, the color of your eyes and the way the corners crinkled when you smiled. The way your brows furrowed when you concentrated on something, how fiercely you defended anything you loved or felt empathy for, how sopping wet you got when he teased you just the tiniest bit. 

The two of you loved taking walks together on the grounds, both finding it relaxing and like a much needed detox at the end of a long day. On days off you took longer hikes together in landscapes near and far, sleeping out in the fresh air and making love on mossy forest grounds. 

You both had a special craving for physical connection (or as you liked to say, your “love languages were physical touch”), which in truth was a lucky blessing, for never had someone unlocked such need in Bucky. Need for your warmth, need for your touch, need to hold your hand or your waist or shoulder, or just feel the weight of your feet in his lap on movie nights with the rest of the team. It didn’t need to be sexual either (though it certainly often was, or turned to that) - it was just the knowledge of you being close that soothed whatever aches Bucky had inside, quelled and quieted some fidgety, restless part of him. 

Further, your company and your skin on his had done miracles for his sleepless night. You were like a soothing blanket and a sleeping pill, all in one. Whenever he laid down and pulled you close, felt your hands around his torso and your legs tangle with him, sleep found him easily, which was a feat he hadn’t found in years. You alternated between sleeping in your room or his, but you always slept together whenever you had the chance. In his quiet mind, Bucky liked it best when you slept in his bed. There was just something about seeing you in his room, in his sheets, relaxed and warm and soft with sleep, leaving behind faint traces of your scent on his pillow that Bucky would never admit openly to pressing his nose to and inhaling gratefully whenever you left for your own daily work.

 Inviting you in and seeing you so comfortable and at home in his private, intimate spaces had a newfound emotion spreading in his body. A sweet ache that wasn’t pain, nor sadness, or even longing. He’d scarcely dared put a name to the new feeling that bloomed like the tiniest, most fragile thing in his chest. The feeling was happiness, so foreign and unexpected Bucky had damn near had a panic attack that first time he caught himself gazing at you while you were deeply engrossed in your book next to him, and recognised the feeling for what it was. 

On this Sunday morning, when neither of you had any plans for the day, Bucky opened his eyes to find you snuggled up to him like a koala, legs and arms wrapped tightly around him as you slumbered on, and that same pang of sweet ache hit him as he looked down on you, saw you so relaxed and peaceful in his arms. By God, you were a deep sleeper, and you slept a lot, too. Bucky’d been baffled to observe how fucking much you slept if only given the chance. Proper sloth, he’d tried to tease you once, only for you to stretch with a lazy smile and nuzzle his chest. That had in turn only served to make Bucky’s heart melt right out of his ribcage. You were too cute, damnit, and far too powerful, and Bucky could only clutch you tighter to him. 

Bucky looked down at you, the soft rays of the warm spring sun coming in through the open curtains and casting your beautiful face in a golden sheen, taking his breath away as his gaze flitted about your face, without a single tension, mouth slightly open, quiet, steady puffs of air coming out and fanning across Bucky’s face. He put his nose gently to your throat and breathed you in, pulling in a grateful fill of your mouth watering scent, all warm and heady from your sleep.

He wondered what you were dreaming about, and how long you would sleep like this, undisturbed and unburdened, like you deserved. Did you even know how much of a miracle you’d been to him? How you single handedly fought off his nightmares? Kept him sleeping through the night, not awakening to sheets damp with sweat and an even more exhausted mind than the night before? He suspected you didn’t have a single clue. And maybe he was to blame for that. Cause even though his body had practically leapt at the chance of living in semi-permanent connection with yours no problem, he still had a little ways to go when it came to properly opening up emotionally. With words. God, he hated talking about his feelings, hated how vulnerable and easily wounded he felt, how much he fumbled for the right things to say and the guilt of taking comfort from others when he’d been the cause of so much horrid pain in the past. Whenever he felt the need to get things off his chest, those thoughts would hit him. It wasn’t right to demand people soothe and comfort him, he didn’t deserve it. He needed to own his actions, no matter if Hydra was og wasn’t here anymore. Especially because of that, actually. If he didn’t repent, how would he ever make up for all those people who’d suffered at his hands? 

So no, it was better to just work on it himself, to not burden anyone with it, and especially not a sweet, loving, caring ray of sunshine like you. You deserved so much better. 

Bucky stared at you while his thoughts whirled. He would let you sleep in, he decided, and after bending slightly forward to kiss one of your eyelids as softly as his body could possibly allow him, he started the meticulous procedure of removing his arm from under your neck and extracting himself from the secure cage you’d made around him with your limbs, so he could go start his morning routine. Just when he’d managed to untangle your legs and was about to slip his arm from under your head, your brows crinkled and the most adorable little sound of protest came from you. Sluggish and weakly, you reached for him, still mostly asleep, and tugged at his shoulder and arm to get him back to you. 

Bucky’s heart clenched again, and he huffed a laugh as he let himself be pulled back into your embrace, secretly relishing the feeling of you determinant pulling him close to you, of wanting him close to you. He couldn’t help it, those small reassurances meant so much to him. 

Your eyes opened to slits and looked up at him. 

“Mornin,” he mumbled, feeling himself light up with a sense of excitement at having you awake and with him.

You hummed long and slow, settling down with your head on his chest.

“Mornin, baby, what’s the time?” you asked, and your small, raspy voice was so fucking cute Bucky had a hard time dealing with it, actually.

He didn’t have to look at the clock on the nightstand. 

“Just past six,” he said, still gazing at your sleepy form. 

Your face scrunched up in what could only be described as disgust at his words. 

“What? Whyyyy, Bucky, it’s Sunday,” you whined, and Bucky couldn’t help his grin. 

“Can’t help the way I am,” he said as his only excuse, hoping you didn’t catch on to the way the words reflected his earlier thoughts. 

You stretched like a cat in his arms and snuggled closer to him, pressing a kiss to his throat. 

“I can help you. Settle down, we’re sleeping in today,” you said, eyes closing. It seemed you were halfway back to sleep already, though your grip around Bucky was uncompromising. 

“Is that an order?” Bucky murmured, so stupidly entertained by your every word he just kept grinning, the ache in his chest growing stronger.

“Yes it is, so you better obey me, soldier,” you mumbled. 

Bucky chuckled, watching you drift back off to sleep, but found he couldn’t quite get there himself. He found himself gazing out into the room, mind still going over his worries like a steadily churning maelstrom. Sleep didn’t come easy when he was stuck in a thinking loop like this. It didn’t help that his morning wood was as incessant as always, and you snuggling your warm, soft body up against it only made it worse. That wasn’t that much of an issue, though. He actually, secretly kinda loved just laying like this, feeling how you aroused him and knowing you reciprocated. 

To Bucky’s surprise, he looked back down to find you watching him, having cracked one eye open. He almost started. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, sounding vaguely concerned. 

Bucky schooled his expression and shook his head. 

“Nothing, sweetheart, go back to sleep,” he said, kissing your forehead and then kissing it again when you hummed contentedly at the gesture. 

Your hand came up and started gently playing with the hair on his chest, something you often did when you were thinking and wondering how to say something. A contemplative gesture Bucky didn’t think you were all that aware of. Not that he’d ever made you aware of it. He liked being able to read your behavioral patterns. Liked it when you were open and honest and comfortable showing him your authentic self. He wouldn’t dream of taking that away and making you self conscious. 

“You sure? You look like you're thinking very hard and not talking about it,” you said and Bucky blanched. Had he been that obvious? Maybe he had some revealing behaviors he wasn’t aware of too. For some reason, it warmed his heart to know you could read him as well as he could read you. That you paid attention. That you cared as much as you did. He took your hand in his and played with your fingers, loved the way his hand engulfed yours, seeing how elegant your bones were while knowing the strength you could pack in a punch. 

He turned your hand over and though he’d only meant to buy himself some time with his exploration, he noticed for the first time a scar on the tip of your ring finger. He brought your finger closer to his eyes and yes indeed, in the shape of a question mark without the dot, the pad of your fingertip was sliced in two by a fine, pale scar line. He ran his thumb over it, suddenly engrossed in this detail he’d missed until now. 

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, curiosity making him giddy while deep down, a furious anger stirred; Anger that promised death and despair upon those who dared hurt you. 

You giggled as he brushed his thumb over it again, squirming slightly in his arms, and Bucky got even more curious. 

“It tickles. And it’s nothing exciting, just a small accident from when I was a kid,” you said, squealing lightly when Bucky brushed his thumb even more gently over the scarred skin, watching you avidly. 

“Tell me,” he said, giving your fingertip peace, but not letting you pull your hand away. 

You gave him a stern look, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging on your lips.

“Fine, I’ll let you distract me for now, but I want to know what had you looking so forlorn earlier,” you said, the most adorable flush creeping up on your cheekbones as Bucky slowly pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed each fingertip, noticing with glee how your pupils dilated as you watched his lips caress your skin. 

“Forlorn?” Bucky repeated, settling down even further into the soft mattress and the soft, silky sheets he’d gone out and gotten that first week you started sharing his bed, “I like when you go Shakespeare,” he teased, grinning when you smacked his chest in petulant offense. Bucky pulled you even closer to him and rolled you over so you lay across his chest as he settled on his back. “No, c’mon, tell me,” he insisted. 

You lay there together as the sun rose higher, Bucky listening intently as you told him about the accident that had split your finger tip as a seven year old, and then the stitches you’d have to get sewn while in the ER. Bucky couldn’t help pulling you closer and kissing all over your face when you talked about the praise you’d gotten from the nurses for being so brave. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured onto the skin below your ear and relished the way you shivered. You gave him that look you got when you were delightfully preening under his praise while at the same time getting just a little bit shy - that look that made Bucky go half-mad with desire. 

“Tell me about this one?” you asked, pointing to a scar that ran along his lower abdomen, a  line that zig zagged diagonally up to his waist. It was one of his more gnarly scars. Thick, ragged and ugly, with darker, blotchy scar tissue, indicating a more serious injury. Not that Bucky knew. 

“Don’t know, I don’t remember how I got them,” he said, finding the words a bit more difficult to get past his throat as he focused on the scar, and the lack of memories accompanying it. 

You looked up at him in surprise. 

“Any of them?” you asked. 

Bucky gave a noncommittal shrug, fighting off his self-consciousness. He didn’t want to get defensive around you, knew he didn’t have to. Hell, you were the one person he knew by now he could be open and honest with. But the lack of knowing was still a sore spot for him.

“I know where the arm went, Steve told me, but the rest is, um…well, mysteries,” he said. 

You blinked, looking a little like a wounded puppy as your fingers traced another scar. You were so empathic, always caring so deeply for others. It was something Bucky admired about you, along with how open you were yourself about your feelings and stuff like that. Bucky drew a steadying breath, gathering his courage. 

“I’m glad I have them,” he said, catching your attention again. Your brow crinkled for the tiniest moment. 

“Why for?” you asked softly, a small, perfect encouragement for him to elaborate. 

Here we go, Bucky thought, a shrill nervousness suddenly swelling inside him.

“I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t have them,” Bucky said, swallowing thickly. His courage faltered slightly and he averted his eyes, but he forced himself to continue speaking, “They’re a part of the life that led me to this, to…you. I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t also go through whatever gave me all these scars…and for that, I’m happy,” he said, drawing a mortified breath as he stopped speaking, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. 

The silence felt like an eternity, and Bucky steeled himself for whatever reaction you might come with. Was it too much? Too weird? Too morbid? 

Your hands cupped his face and brought his eyes up to yours. They were shining with emotion, with empathy so deep he almost winced at the raw intensity. 

“You’re so strong, Bucky. A strong and good man, and so fucking sweet. You didn’t deserve any of your scars, or any of the pain you went through to get here. And I know you feel guilty, and I know there is little I can do to make it alright, but I…,” you trailed off for a beat and to his astonishment, Bucky swore he heard the words love you hang in the air between the two of you. Your heart, which Bucky could feel between your two bodies pressed together, shot up to an alarming speed, and a crimson flush stole across your face. 

You must have seen him catch on, for you lowered your gaze and laughed a bit self deprecatingly. No, no, no, don’t hide, please say them, Bucky thought desperately, his own heart picking up speed, thudding hard in his chest. God, could it be true?

“Is it selfish to say I’m happy you’re here with me too, even though you had to go through so many unfair, horrible things to get here?” you asked, and Bucky wondered if you were feeling guilty too at that moment. 

He hugged you tighter to him, lowering his head to catch your down-cast eyes. 

“I want you to. Be selfish, I mean, ehm, with me,” he said in a surge of bravery that had him fumbling his words all the same. “I mean I like it when you are - I mean, oh God, I -”

“I get what you mean,” you said softly and assuringly, biting your lip and smiling so sweetly Bucky’s heart lurched. 

He bent forward and caught your lips, so fucking grateful for you, for caring, understanding and supporting you. Maybe he didn’t need to hear you say you loved him yet. His heart was soaring in his chest just by the implication, just by having you here in his arms. He could be gracious and continue working to deserve your love in the future, and be completely ready to receive it. 

You broke the kiss and settled down on his chest again, and his hand found your hair, playing with it. 

“I need a haircut,” you said after a few moments, voice just the tiniest bit tense for it to be a nonchalant remark. Who needs a distraction now?, Bucky thought a bit smugly, listening with his enhanced hearing that your heart was still thudding just a little faster than usual. He could be gracious, though it was a near thing. 

“I like your hair like this,” he said, kissing the top of your head, satisfaction surging warm and proud when you tried to snuggle even closer to him, tangling your legs even more with his.

“Oh lord, no it’s all frizzy. I once had a hairdresser -”

You spent some time talking about nothing and everything, the languid morning settling heavy in your bones. Bucky felt like he was floating, like time slowed and you were hiding away together on a cloud of affection and drowsy, peaceful contentment. 

Nestled together in the privacy of his room, Bucky’s thoughts went to the future for once, and not the past. They went to the hope that you would tell him you loved him one day. That he would be ready to receive that love then, and be truly deserving of it. As of now, maybe he could get used to sleeping in, Bucky thought as he listened to you murmuring about a dream you’d had. 

And after a while, when your eyelids had closed entirely and your breath evened out, Bucky drifted back off to sleep with you, still entangled in the soft sheets illuminated by the warm, spring sun. 

[zingaplanet]

If you think about Federer and Nadal's unique sort of friendship and how it managed to lasts this long it's actually very bizzarre.

Apart from the fact that they're the unlikeliest of friends, ditto they're actual sworn enemies who have very little in common from the beginning (that's the whole premise of their rivalry), perhaps what's more fascinating is not how they kinda grew to have more in common and actually found they relate to each other a lot as they got older but also how much effort they put into creating and maintaining this relationship that they could've easily done without.

If I realised anything recently, especially after their retirement (or soon-to-come retirement) from professional sport, it's a bond that is nurtured as much as it is naturally grown and for no discernible logical reason. It's arguably good PR of course, two big rivals getting along when they're still competing and certainly plays a lot in landing the 'nice guy' image for both, but conflict and troubles are equally if not more, great PR as well, just look at Michael Jordan and his rivals. Or perhaps it was simply the 'gentlemanlike' nature of tennis that wouldn't tolerate this kind of behaviour and they're aware of this, or perhaps it's a simpler answer.

What's interesting is they seem to almost subject themselves willingly to this situation of friendliness and cordial relationship that they couldn't easily get out of, it's evident in the very beginning of their relationship for instance. It's true that after 2017 they did grow closer seemingly more naturally (with Federer experiencing injuries as Nadal has felt many times before, and them relating more to each other near the end of their careers), but before that? It was a remarkable effort. Nobody ever forced them to get along but they went out of their way to do it, and it's not as if it was ever 'easy'.

They did get good things about it in the media of course, like always having each other to rely on for their foundations' charity matches, etc., but it's also very precarious, as is expected. It's obvious that they've had fallouts, 2011 is one, perhaps no little frustration nor jealousy, and disagreement over the sports' politics. This is on top of facing each other in their favourite tournament finals every year. The truth is, they could, simply not bother - tennis is their world but it's not centred just around them. 2011 to 2020 at least, is a four-edged sword between the big 4, but you don't really see both of them making this much effort with Novak, Andy, or any of their big rivals.

Nadal and Federer obviously talked it out and made up their differences over the 2011 dispute in private, or else they would not have agreed to rejoin the players' council together. Nadal even apologised for making this disagreement too public. Federer could easily not come to Nadal's academy inauguration, and Nadal could simply rejected the Match in Africa and Laver Cup proposals (which he tried his best to fit into his busy schedule despite protests from his team). Novak, for instance, approached this rivalry he had with both of them in a much more detached way, always very respectful, occassionally friendly, but never really truly bordering on personal lines. He even admitted recently that he could never imagine Federer and Nadal as his friends.

I used to think that with two such complements in the world, somehow the universe would work its way to make it either blow up in pieces or come together naturally. But I realised I was wrong. The point is, it's not easy. It never has been. It's not natural nor is it inevitable closeness through time (like Nadal did with his Davis Cup teammates or Federer did with Wawrinka). They have absolutely no incentive to be friends. Federer did not have to come and open Nadal's academy, nor send congratulatory messages every year to the new graduates, Nadal did not have to leave his family to play in Federer's last match or fly all the way to South Africa. But that's why it's one of the greatest achievements in sports- that two of its biggest rivals absolutely did not have to get along, yet they did it anyway. It's a testament to their character, their sportsmanship, but above all, their immense respect for one another.

And what comes out of effort is trust. Both of them have repeatedly said that they trust each other more than anyone, Nadal said he could be open with Federer about anything including his injuries even when he's still playing, and Federer said he allowed himself to be vulnerable when he told Nadal first before everyone else about his retirement. It's very easy to find people you care about but very difficult to find one you wholly trust.

It's a valuable and meaningful bond of their own making and I can understand more now why Federer said he knew he'd still be in touch with Nadal after retirement out of all his tennis friends. Nadal's similar, now nearly completely out of the tour, he seems to not bother with anyone else in the field anymore but Federer. It's them calling each other still when there is no more tennis to discuss, no council matters to agree over. It's Federer saying "It happens, Rafa is like that" when saying their communications dwindle down every time Nadal is injured but clearly not worried about the durability of their friendship. Now, it's the effortlessness that comes after so many years of trying, it's "I know how he must've felt", it's absolute trust without complicated demands, it's being understood without having to say anything, it's the familiarity of an old friend, it's missing the old days and realising the world is moving on without them, it's accepting the present and not regretting the past, it's growing old together.

it's the feeling of simple, steady companionship, that they're in it together, always.

[heda-in-the-clouds]

How long before they 👌👈

It's been two weeks since Lexa first attended Clarke's self defense class. Class was now over and Clarke and Lexa openly flirted with each other as the other students left for the night. Usually, Anya interrupted their shameless flirting and dragged Lexa back home. However, Anya couldn't make it to class tonight which left Clarke and Lexa all the time in the world.

Nearly half an hour passed before either of them noticed they were the only ones left in the studio. Clarke apologized for keeping Lexa so late. Lexa smiled and said that she didn't mind it at all. She could spend all night talking with someone as charming as her.

At this point, Clarke noticed that Anya wasn't around to take Lexa back home. When she asked, Lexa told Clarke that she took an Uber to class so she'll just take one back home. Clarke offered to give Lexa a ride back home which she accepted.

Their flirting didn't stop during the car ride. In fact, Clarke had trouble keeping her eyes on the road when all she wanted was to stare at Lexa in her passenger seat. Meanwhile, Lexa kept her hand on Clarke's thigh inching closer to her crotch the closer they got to her place.

Once the car was parked, the realization dawned between them what would inevitably happen if Lexa invited Clarke inside her apartment. Lexa spoke first to break the tension and asked if Clarke would like to come upstairs. Clarke eagerly said yes.

As soon as Lexa closed her door, Clarke spun her around and kissed her hard. They moaned once they felt the warmth of each other's lips and bodies pressed tightly against each other. They deepened the kiss sensing the growing heat between their bodies.  Suddenly, Clarke pulled away causing Lexa to whine the loss of her body against hers.

"Lexa wait!"

"Why'd you stop Clarke? Do you not want this?"

"God Lexa. I want you so damn much but I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm your instructor. I feel bad that you spent your money on my class just so you can flirt and sleep with me. I feel like I should give you your money back."

"I'm not that worried about money Clarke. I actually like your class and getting to flirt with you was always a bonus."

"Who's the charming one now?"

"Well, I learned from the best. Now, can we please get back to where we left things off?"

"Okay but I have a challenge first. You said you actually like my class. Well, I want you to prove it."

"Uh, prove it how?"

"Show me you actually learned something useful from all of my lessons. We're going to spar and I want you to pin me down for 5 seconds. Manage that and we'll get back to making out."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah. This will make me feel better about myself."

"Fine. 5 seconds doesn't seem too long."

"And I won't be holding back. You'll actually have to use the techniques I taught you."

"Ugh come on Clarke! We could have been getting sweaty in my bed by now."

"Nope. I won't fall for that Lexa."

"Can't blame me for trying."

"Oh and one more thing Lexa. If you can't pin me down in 5 minutes, I'm leaving and you'll have to wait until next week's class."

"Really?!"

"Think of it as incentive. You'll get your reward if you beat me."

Despite Lexa's pouting, Clarke held firm in her stance. Lexa motioned them to move to her living room for more space. They stood on opposite corners, Clarke in a defensive stance while Lexa maintained an offensive position. Once Lexa moved forward, Clarke started her 5 minute timer.

At first, Lexa decided to test out if Clarke was actually serious. She lazily launched herself at Clarke who quickly countered and pushed Lexa away. Lexa tried again but met the same result as she was knocked down on her ass. Lexa realized that Clarke was actually taking this whole challenge seriously. No matter what Lexa did, Clarke easily blocked and deflected her moves.

As the timer ticked closer to zero, Lexa was getting frustrated that she hasn't been able to land a solid tackle on Clarke. She had to break Clarke's focus so she needed to find a way to distract her. A devious idea then popped into her head. Lexa knew she had to play dirty to win the challenge. She suddenly stripped out of her sports bra and shorts, leaving her fully naked in front of Clarke.

Clarke was frozen in disbelief that she's now face to face with a fully nude Lexa. She never envisioned her first time seeing Lexa naked would happen this way. Although she daydreamed Lexa naked multiple times during class, the actual sight of Lexa's nude body in front of her surpassed her expectations.

Seeing Clarke distracted and caught off guard, Lexa made her move and rushed towards her. She aimed low and drove her full strength towards Clarke's hips. She pushed Clarke off balance and tackled her to the ground. She quickly pinned her in a basic hold down and started counting.

"One. Two. Three. Four and Five! Fuck yeah! I did it! We get to fuck now!"

Lexa hopped off Clarke in triumph and started prancing around the room in excitement at her victory. Clarke was still in shock and left speechless that Lexa's dirty move actually worked. Clarke groaned as she watched Lexa bounce with excitement in front of her.

Lexa told Clarke to stop frowning because she won the challenge and she wants to claim her reward now. She tells Clarke that she'll be waiting for her in the bedroom. Lexa sauntered away putting an extra sway in her hips.

Finally snapping out of her daze, Clarke realized that she still wins in the end because she now gets to sleep with Lexa. Clarke quickly got off the floor and chased a cocky Lexa to her bedroom.

Once inside, she threw herself at Lexa and pushed her to her bed.

"Now that's a strong tackle."

"How about you show me a powerful thrust instead?"

[thedreadvampy]

So, wow, ok, it doesn't grant them voting rights or a seat on the Security Council but the UN has successfully voted to move Palestine from an observer state to a member state, which means it can put forwards motions and join debates.

this is. fucking miraculous. as a sign that the US is wavering in its support of Israel.

Of course they're bitching about it and the US right are already trying to pull all funding from the UN (frankly I'm in favour of this if it was unilateral can we be honest cause if the US actually shot its load and withdrew from the UN maybe the UN could be something other than an arm of US control) but this has never been allowed to happen.

(threatening to pull funding is America's favourite pasttime when it comes to Israel, and is also the only reason Israel exists at all, because America threatened to pull funding and aid if there was a single-state solution in 1947)

As long as the US puts its full weight behind Israel, as it has for over 75 years, the popular movement for Palestine will not find any expression at an international state level. Nobody who is not already in America's bad books will intervene without support, and even those who are already disliked by the US, like Iran, are afraid to risk kicking off all out war with the US.

This is all true while America backs Israel.

But I think, or at least I hope, that it's becoming less and less tenable for them to put all their eggs in the Israel basket. They're being increasingly condemned and cold-shouldered from outside, and facing a popular uprising inside to a degree they haven't seen since the 60s which they're so far unable to quash through propaganda or violence. Popular support for Israel is collapsing fast.

Now to you or I - normal fucking guys - this is a moral issue first and foremost. People are being killed in their thousands and That's Bad. But governments don't believe in people, they believe in numbers - profit margins, approval ratings, debts, how many potential enemies vs how many potential allies.

A moral cost won't change things but an economic and political one will, and when the costs of supporting Israel outweigh the benefits, America will shuffle away from it and pretend they were against Israel all along.

If you believe, as I do, that Palestine will be free, then America still has time to do the thing it loves to do - come in blazing in defence of the underdog at the end of a genocide it sponsored and nurtured, claim the title of Great Liberator, and rely on everyone remembering that more than they remember the preceding decades.

the downside there is that the US has rarely been SO publicly, loudly in support of a second party state as it is with Israel. it has LOUDLY invested a lot - money, time, political capital - into Israel and the Zionist cause for over 100 years, and it's devoted a huge amount of its internal propaganda machine to a) the Goodness of Israel and b) the Arab world being the ultimate evil. I don't know if they can pull off the America Classic here. I don't know if anyone's buying it.

as well, the global incentives that made the US back the formation of Israel are still there - which is to say, there's a lot of Middle Eastern states with a lot of (reasonable) beef against the US, and Israel presents a powerful barrier to Arab unity. Could they transfer that power over to Saudi Arabia? Maybe, but that's still Arab. I think they're very afraid of losing a foothold in the Middle East. But also they're building hostility there again by continuing to support Israel, so they might be better advised to jump ship while they still can.

(the other fear I guess is that if they pull out and Israel survives and completes its genocide, they will also have lost the foothold, and will have burned all their bridges on both sides)

like my hope is that at this point the US state's relationship with Israel is a game of chicken and I hope they're coming towards a point where the internal division, the international condemnation, the rebellion of the UN, and the weakening of the Israeli state make it more threatening to US interests to stay allied to Israel than to withdraw.

And the US is the linchpin. The only thing allowing Israel to act with impunity is that the US is standing behind it holding a big stick.

When the US caves on Israel - and it will, sooner or later - the world will scramble to follow. So we have to keep making support for Israel politically inconvenient. Keep fighting US support for the occupation because the movement isn't visible much of the time but Palestine becoming a member state of the UN without US sanctions is a jolt of movement. It shows we're moving this huge thing off course, and we can't let up - the more it moves, the easier it will become to move.

[sophieinwonderland]

Untangling Family History

After vaguely mentioning that my host's grandmother had DID, I thought I should go into this a bit more. It was a "discovery," that I've been meaning to discuss for a while.

I say "discovery" because my host heard this a long time before I existed, filed it away as not important, and forgot all about it came up in a conversation with his mother.

Before I came along, my host "knew" a lot about DID from movies and hearsay. And all of it was wrong. Never base your knowledge of a subject on media.

Among these wrong beliefs, it was assumed every alter had complete amnesia from the others, they all would publicly go by different names to make them easy to identify, and switches would be super obvious to outside observers.

Again, none of that is true.

But it did mean that when my host's mom told him in the past that his grandma had multiple personalities (because that's what everyone in the house knew the disorder as until well after my host was an adult,) 20+ years prior, he was skeptical since it didn't meet his bad understanding of the disorder. By that point, his grandma also had suffered a severe stroke that left her where she couldn't speak in complete sentences. So everything he learned had to be filtered through his mom's recollection.

Now, we realize that DID is very often covert and that headmates will often mask as other headmates. Just because people thought her alters went away doesn't actually mean they did. And she had a history of mood swings and memory issues that DID could account for long after the point when it was supposedly gone.

What's more, according to stories from his mom, his grandmother was institutionalized as a teen. There, she was subjected to various "treatments" including electroshock therapy. (This must have been at some point in the 60s.) And naturally, her family claimed she was faking and was lying about abuse taking place in the house. Given what we know about that side of the family, the abuse is one thing none of us ever doubted.

After going through all of this, there would be a strong incentive for her to lie and pretend to be cured even if she wasn't

We still don't know for certain if she had DID or not. She's not around to answer questions about it.

But if it's true, it would certainly be interesting how we'd end up with three generations of plural-experiences in the family.