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#lethal amounts of tiny today
shyerue · 11 months
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Stitch Me Back Together ~ Keegan Russ x GN!Reader (Medic)
Synopsis: You heal all of their wounds, but not all of them are physical. Aka the obligatory hurt/comfort Medic trope
Word Count: 4k
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Warnings: canon typical violence, tiny amounts of blood,
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The midday sun in L.A. was unforgiving today, and you did your best to treat everyone who comes in with a heat stroke, or really bad sun burns.
"Maybe you should wear the issued sun hats once in a while, you know ?" You scold the young recruit in front of you.
She came in feeling dizzy after patroling out in the sun for too long.
"Yes, maybe I should. And I know the circumstances are bad and all.. but don't you agree that they look hideous ?" She answers, trying to speak quietly to not further agitate her headache.
You glance over to the wall where most of her gear laid, and on top of the pile, said sun hat.
And yes, it wasn't exactly fashionable. Thick material, kinda nasty from many wears and passing it down to every owner, crumply and with some holes on the sides.
It was, to quote, hideous.
"Not gonna lie, it could be prettier." You say, keeping yourself busy wrapping new wet towels around her calves. She humms in agreement.
"But, it's better than nothing, or in the worst case, falling unconcious on the field because you didn't wanna look ugly." You finish, retreating back to your desk to mark the incident down in her file, while the recruit starts cooling down.
The radio on your desk, that you requested long ago for emergencies around the base, crackled silently in the background. Normally, patients would ask why you have a silent channel on, when you should use the open canal, but not for the last two days.
"Are you feeling any better ?" You ask, checking in with her, as she lays still on your bench.
"Yeah, feeling good now." She answers, clearly more relaxed than ten minutes ago.
"Scarecrow, we have a visual on the target. Moving to intercept." The radio crackles to life with Keegan's voice, and your writing ceases for a second. It's the first time you heard him today, and if this job taught you anything, it's that one day is enough to end it all.
You feel relieved, and listen in closer to Elias' response.
"We're picking up large sonar blasts in your area. That amount of water pressure can have lethal effect."
You swallow dryly as you keep listening. All you know about Keegan's new mission is, that it required scuba diving equipment and that Logan had to undergo a lung function test beforehand.
So, with that information and the conversation right now, you guess they target a submarine or something of the likes.
"Keep your bottles up and your heads down, boys." Elias finishes rather quickly.
"Heh. Wilco." Keegan quips, and you can't help but smile inwardly at his sassy quip.
While your man doesn't look the part to strangers, or even some people on base, he's actually quite funny if he wants to. You once told him that his humor acts like a coping mechanism, but he proceeded to do it, and honestly, it's better than nothing to cope with.
One late night, a few days after that convo, he told you that you help him cope the most, and that he feels safe enough with you to let even the darkest of his humor come through.
And that was the night you knew this, Keegan, was gonna be it for you.
"You still with me ?" You ask your recruit, and as you look up, you catch her already looking back at you with a dreamy, probably fever induced smile.
You know that smile, having seen it on many over drugged soldiers that came back from the outside. And you know that one out of two things is going to happen now.
One, they are going to fall asleep, which wouldn't be ideal after almost going unconcious from the sun, or two, they start shit talking.
And clearly, you are hit with option number two.
"Can I ask you something ?" She grins, and you move to stand up to check on her cool, wet leg compress.
"Go on." You encourage, rather wanting to deal with potentially personal questions than her passing out.
"Like... you and the Sergent... Russ ?" She slurs.
"Yup. What about it, dear ?"
It's not the first time that your relationship is the subject of gossip around base. It happens often that medical staff and military personell fall inlove with each other. But the Ghosts always were a bit of an untouchable force for everyone. Well respected, and well earned at that.
When you were hired here, or rather found and adopted, you told yourself to let it stay strictly professional.
In hindsight, that didn't go well.
But, the first Ghost you had to treat was Keegan, and you did it as asked, in total silence.
You treated a cut on his side back then, and he lifted his clothes as high as necessary. The mask and most importantly, the gear stayed on for the most part.
They told you that Ghosts do not trust outsiders. And boy, were they right.
You finished treating Keegan back then, and asked if he was allergic to something in the sight of antibiotic treatment. He denies it and points to a patch on his shoulder reading 'NKA'.
No known allergies. Fair enough.
You try and lighten him up a little as he gets up to leave, only waiting for your order to do so.
"You're all good to go. Take it slow for today, and treat yourself to some fruits. I think we got in a fresh batch earlier today. You know, one apple a day keeps to doctor away ?" You say, not smiling at him, nor pouting, just awaiting his reaction.
After a breath in, he answers "If I aim it well enough."
Your mouth falls open a little in shock, as well as adoration, and you are glad that it hides the grin that creeps up your face at his bold responds.
He nods at you, regarding you one last time with his piercing icy gaze, before retreating from your room. Only now did it dawn on you that it was the first time he said anything to you, and therefore, the first time you heard his voice. He has a nice one, perfect to read out loud, you guess.
"How long have you two been together ?" You recruit asks, ripping you out of your memory.
"A little more than three years now."
"Woooow that's long. Have you ever heard of golden wedding ? Like, where people are married for fifty years ? You think you two can do that, too ?" She explains, and you laugh a little.
"I don't know. Sounds nice, I guess. But we're not even married." You answer honestly, pretty sure she won't remember most of this conversation anyways.
"Yet." She adds, and flips the wet rag on her forehead over to the cooler side by herself.
At least the basic functions are online.
You laugh at her enthusiasm. It's rare to be able to talk about your relationship with anyone. Not that you particularly need to, but it feels nice. Getting to show off Keegan for a change feels good.
"Honestly, I don't even know if there are even institutes left that do marry people."
As the recruit begins to hum and think oer your statement, you hear the radio again.
"Take cover !" Keegan's voice gets through, and you can't help the falling feeling in your chest. You know he's good, very good, but even a second can take everything away from you.
"Come on !" He urges Logan on, and all you hear from him is laboured breathing.
Logan did pass his test, but it's one of his first times going on a mission in a scuba suit, and many don't know how to handle to water, the limited air supply and so on.
"Quick ! Get to that lighthouse !" Keegan instructs and your brows draw in confused. A lighthouse ? Under water ? Where the hell did Elias send them off to ?
You take a look at the rcruit on your bench, and she too is focused on the radio. Still a little delirious, but interested. You turn up the volume a little for her to hear better, even though technically, she wouldn't be allowed to hear. But so were you.
Anyways, you do it as well to keep her awake and to keep up with Keegan as well.
He tells Logan to sync up on him and get the missile ready. So they were really gonna destroy something again.
"Nice, you got it !" You hear Keegan cheer to Logan, but it's followed by a deafening exploding sound.
Your eyes grow wide as you lean in closer to the radio, as if that's going to help you hear better.
"Oh shit..." was all you heard from Keegan before the crashing sounds became overwhelming.
To top it all off, the lights in your room go out, as well as the radio.
"No !" You yell, accidentally frightening the slowly more awake recruit, as you shake to radio a little from side to side as much as it gives from the stationary position it's in.
"Fuck !"
"What's going on ? Am I blind ?" She asks from the cot as the room is bathed in darkness.
You sigh in frustration "No. I guess the power went out. And my room isn't connected to the emergency power."
"Oh damn. At least the lights aren't hurting my eyes anymore." She mumbles before getting lost in the thought.
The door to the room opens, and another soldier stops at the threshold.
"Good afternoon. The power went out. Is everyone alright in here ?" He asks.
"Yeah. We noticed, and yes we're good, thank you for checking." You answer, side eyeing your patient giving the soldier a once over.
"Understood. If possible, I would like to escort you to another part of the facility, where the power is still running. Just until we figure out the problem." He explains, gesturing outside to the hallway with his arm.
"Only if he's the one carrying my ass." Your patient giggles, and you begin to think that maybe, you should have just let her fall asleep.
So, one very awkward walk to the common area later, your ears are still bleeding from the obnoxious and embarrassing flirting from your patient.
She got her will, but only because you had to grab some supplies for her and her file. Otherwise you would have dragged her here yourself. The poor man carrying her in a firefighter hold seemed amused though, and even fed into her fever induced flirting.
Now that he laid her down on a couch and went back to his duty of checking out the other rooms that were hit with the power outage.
After a few hours, they at least ruled out a counter attack from the Federation. That's at least something. But it didn't do shit to take your mind off of what your last interaction with Keegan was.
All the commotion going on before the line went dark. You had half the mind to go and find Elias and ask what the hell is going on. But that would bust the little secret you had, that was your radio on Ghosts frequency.
And still, sitting there, changing your patients cold wraps every hour didn't do a lot to take your mind off things.
At one point, your recruit was back to normal and asked what happened, and why she was treated on a couch rather than a cot at the med bay.
When you told her how she flirted with that soldier prior, she shut up real quick and thanked you for your service, before asking to leave to her own room.
"Drink some more before you go and lay down again. Tell your comrades to check in on you every now and then while you sleep and check your temperature. And drink, drink, drink."
"Yes, doctor. Thank you again for putting up with me. It must have been a lot." She sighs, gathering what little supplies she had with her.
You promised her that everything that was still in your office would be delivered to her's as soon as possible.
"It's alright. Took my mind off things for a bit, so actually thank you." You retort, folding the blanket she had used and putting it to the side.
"For what ? Having a heat stroke ?" She laughs, before stilling and looking around the empty area, and continuing. "He is a Ghost. He will come back alive and well. I'm sure of it."
You smile at her and wave after her, slowly being consumed by the silence around you.
And with that, consumed by your thoughts again.
Keegan told you right from the start that his job was risky, hell, one of the riskiest in the country you said.
But he also assured you that he would do anything he could to come back from every assignment.
You chose to retreat back to your examination room, deciding that it would be best to clean up there, even while holding a flashlight so see.
You got lucky and even managed to find a head lamp, which made the whole process of cleaning a little easier.
When the door swung open again, you said "I know that the power is out, but I need to clean the room for the next patient."
But when you didn't get an answer, only laboured breathing, you decided to turn to the door to see who interupted your cleaning process.
You didn't know which emotion to feel first when you laid eyes on Keegan standing there.
Taking him in, you notice that his hair is still wet from the dive, but other than that, he is still in uniform from the transport back to base.
"Keegan..." You sigh, dropping your cloth as you walk over to him, not caring even a little bit that you would have to start all over disinfecting the place.
As soon as you're in reach, he releases the doorknob to wrap his arms around you in a desperate hug.
As you stand there, you breath him in, and you feel him do the same, clutching the back of your neck tightly, holding you to him.
"I'm so glad you're okay. You have no idea how worried I was." You whisper, even though no one is here to hear you.
"I was worried too. It was a close call, not gonna lie. I was worried I couldn't keep my promise." He explains, pulling back your faces a little, and you reach up to ditch the head lamp to lean in for a much needed reunion kiss.
Keegan hums in satisfaction, and you all but run your hands through his damp hair to feel him closer.
Pressing into him, he grunts a little, and makes you pull back.
"Where are you hurt ?" You ask, cradling his face in your palms.
"A little debris fell down on us, so I think a few scratches, as well as a nasty bruise on my back." He answers immediately, having learned that avoiding the answer won't get him anywhere.
You nod and ditch the idea of cleaning up your room for now, and take his hand to lead him back to your shared room.
On the way there, you spot Elias talking to Logan, seemingly scolding him for something.
As you walk past he catches your eyes, but keeps his mouth shut when you send him a warning look.
Elias knows that you don't like that he is sending Logan off with anyone but himself on missions, especially with Keegan. You asked Keegan about it, and he says that it's okay, and that he doesn't mind teaching Logan the Ghosts' ways.
Yet you can't seem to overlook the overbearing amount of pressure it lays on both Logan and Keegan.
When you reach your room, you take off your shoes and make Keegan sit down on the bed.
"Okay, take off your clothes, I'll prepare everything. Sound good ?" You ask, lifting your hand to take his mask from him, as well as to pet his head again as he looks at you.
Nodding, he slowly gets to work peeling off the vest and layers of uniform.
Deeming him well enough to handle it, you walk over to your little bathroom and get the little bathtub running. It's not much, but it's all you have.
While the water is running, you put some drops of the bubble bath in it that Keegan found on one of his runs and smuggled it back here.
Satisfied with your progress, you open the cupboards and search for disinfectant, plasters and some wraps to treat Keegan's wounds after he washed off the dirt that comes naturally with the job.
He comes inside the bathroom, holding his favourite shirt to sleep in and a new pair of underwear in his hands.
Smiling at him, you take the items from him, putting them on top of the toilet seat.
"Silly, you didn't have to. I could have done that for you." You scold him a little, but you know that he only does it out of routine.
"I'm not deadly wounded, you know ?" He retorts, standing in front of the tub, regarding your handiwork.
"I know, just wanna treat you to a relaxing time is all." You explain, gesturing for him to get inside.
Keegan steps inside the tub without further argumentation, sinking down into the warm water.
You take the little stool from behind the door, closing it in the process, and sit down next to Keegan.
"You're not gonna join me ?" He asks, sounding a little disappointed as he splashes some water over his knees that are bent to fit his body into the tub.
"Not today, cowboy. We gotta get you clean and treated. And then, we're gonna fall right into bed and take a well deserved rest." You tell him, and by the sound of it, that's final.
Keegan agrees with a satisfied hum, before leaning his head back and telling his rigid muscles to let loose.
You take the bar soap off the stand, and take Keegan's hand closest to you. Starting with his palm, you clean you way gently up his arm, going over his forearm and elbow crease.
Repeating the process on his other side, you glance up to see his half-lidded eyes following your every move.
Chuckling, you say "Like what you see ?"
"Obviously." Comes as a short answer.
Smiling and shaking your head, you put the bar soap down to scoot behind him, grabbing some shampoo, emulsing it between your hands, and lathering his hair, and giving him a thorough scalp massage. You hear him groan and see his eyelids flutter shut, as well as his knees hitting the respective side of the tub in relaxation.
You bite your lip, and lean in carefully and kiss his forehead, trying to avoid getting shampoo on your lips.
Upon feeling your lips touch his skin, he keens and sit up to lean into it.
You let him soak for a few more minutes after rinsing his hair out, to prepare the little materials you had.
Keegan comes out of the bathtub, draining it, and obidiently sits on the toilet seat only clad in his underwear for now, because most of his wounds were on his upper body.
You did what you could, disinfecting the surface wounds, as well as bandage a sore wrist.
As for his bruised back, you can only advise him to sleep on his stomach for a while.
So, as you take your turn to get ready for bed, he pulls his shirt over his head carefully and walking past, giving you a quick kiss on the temple.
Happily, you speed up your process, eager to finally get into bed with Keegan again.
Sure, it only were a few days, but truth be told, those days got stretched into weeks with the heat working it's magic around here.
Keegan is already seated on the bed when you come to join him.
You stop to stand between his legs and place your hands on his shoulders, as he wraps his around your legs lazily, and lean in to kiss him again.
"I'm so happy you made it back." You whisper, stroking the sides of his neck gently.
Keegan gifts you one of his rare smiles "Sure thing. You are my reason to come back."
"Don't say that. You are much more than just my love. There are many people that value you and would be sad if you didn't come back."
He seems to ponder your statement "Maybe. But those people aren't you."
You can't help but laugh quietly at his stubborness, giving him one last soft kiss before retreating.
Walking around the bed, you get in and Keegan still hasn't moved.
You realise that he is waiting for you to lay down, because he hates sleeping on his stomach, unless...
"You wanna sleep on my stomach ?" You ask, adjusting yourself to be comfortable once Keegan decides to lay down.
"Yes, please." He says, a weight seemingly lifted off of him by you bringing it up instead on him having to ask.
He got better with communication over time, but still sometimes struggles speaking up about some things he wants from you, not wanting to drive you away accidentally.
Smiling, you gesture for him to lay down.
As he does, you adjust his blanket, so it's covering his shoulders and back completely, before settling your hand in his damp, but clean hair, playing with it absentmindedly.
"Thank you for taking care of me. I love you." He mumbles, before he is out like a light.
"I love you, too." You say, knowing he probably can't even hear you anymore, but not being able to bear it not to answer him.
Bonus:
"No, I don't care, Elias. They are your sons, so you can take them out on missions yourself once in a while." You scold Elias, having left Keegan in your bed for a few more minutes.
Little did you know that he slid out of the room after you to grab some coffee and breakfast for you both to eat in bed, and is now watching the exchange with a smile.
"You don't know how we work." Elias retorts, clearly over this argument.
"No, to me it seems like you don't work in the field at all !" You fire up.
"Give your Ghosts a break for fucks sake or else..."
Keegan chuckles at your boldness, grabbing the tray and quickly retreating back to the room to make it seem like he never heard a damn thing.
But he knows now more than ever, no matter when his life ends, he wants to spend what ever time he has left with you.
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hyst3r1a-113 · 4 months
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Man am I gonna miss AO3, but as promised, I'm re-uploading my entire fic (this is going to be very long 😭)
Prologue:
There have been a series of disappearances and killings as of this year. Many fighters from across the country as well as civilians have been reported missing or killed. It has gotten so intolerable that the United Nations has received various complaints and any outside events had to be rescheduled or shut down. Many cries for help had been requested from outside countries all over the world, but due to certain conditions and restrictions, the calls for help were either ignored or resulted in an extreme increase in the crime rate.
Raven and Master Raven were sent on the strings of cases on behalf of the United Nations. They are prepared to face the consequences of death and the risks of becoming the next victim, but no matter what it will take, they will deliver justice to those whose cases were ruled either suicide or trafficking.
"Today isn't the day, huh? You've been lacking sleep," Raven told Master Raven as he pointed out her heavy eyebags, her poor hygiene, and her excessive amounts of expresso in her coffee.
"I will smack you across that shaved head of yours, Raven," the scarred lady replied in return in her agitation and displeased mood. She drank her coffee, almost downing it in one singular gulp.
"Oh, come on, loosen up a little bit, Master Raven. You've grown restless ever since that John Doe case we were handed," Raven replied, trying to lighten the mood a little bit and poke fun at his superior and totally not obvious older sister figure.
"And you wonder why you needed to be retrained. We have no time for jokes, Raven, we need to focus on tracking down this freak that's been causing us this trouble and backlash," Master Raven responded before scowling a tiny bit before she poured herself yet another cup of expresso-filled coffee and made herself a cup of instant rice noodles.
Raven just shot an annoyed eye roll in response to her grouchiness. Master Raven was already eating away at her cup of instant rice noodles, savoring up the spicy flavor and eating it as if it was going to grow legs and walk away from her. Raven just stared with some shock and slight intimidation.
"Master Raven, it's not going to leave any time soon! Relax-," but before Raven could finish his sentence, Master Raven smacked him across the head with no hesitation. Raven ended up scoffing and wincing in pain, but he knew he had it coming for messing with her too much. Master Raven shook her head in disapproval and continued with her quick breakfast. She walks into the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror.
"God damn, they weren't joking when they said I looked awful," she thought to herself.
Master Raven just continued to inspect her appearance. Her skin was very ashy, she almost looked like she was going through an illness. Her eye bags were much heavier than before, and they were much more noticeable. Her hair looked too stiff; she hadn't taken care of her dreadlocks in weeks ever since she picked up this case, or this mission for that matter. Her body was reeking of foul odor due to the hard work and excessive investigation she did.
"But I can't just take a break. The whole world is counting on this case," she thought to herself again.
After Master Raven fixed herself a shower, she went on to check if Raven was working, and to her surprise, he was. He was already making some connections based on the evidence she gathered so far. He was already pinpointing possible suspects, but there were some flaws within those suspects in question.
There were two suspects so far: Bryan Fury and Alisa Bosconovitch. They both were often very lethal in and out of the fighting rings, (with a bit of an emphasis on Bryan), but Alisa was a bit of a shocker to Master Raven. She looked at Raven with a confused and "have you lost your mind" kind of look.
"And why on earth would a robot be driven to mass murder?? Did you get so bored that you began to mess around, Raven?" Master Raven questioned, confused and skeptical of Raven's inquiries about Alisa.
"There have been confirmed murders done with a chainsaw in Russia. There have also been instances where people saw someone with shoulder-length hair, although the hair color and hairstyle were not specified by the witnesses and those affected by these crimes," Raven replied, still skeptical and uncertain about the crimes.
Ironic enough, the crimes and disappearances first began in Russia, then slowly escalated to America, and then it became like an ongoing pandemic where everyone in the world was going missing or dying the next day. Master Raven wasn't surprised a man like Bryan Fury was suspected, considering that he's a notorious criminal wanted in many states in the United States, but it wouldn't make much sense unless he somehow snuck into Russia and began a massacre there. Alisa makes less sense, especially since she's just a mere robot who can be destroyed or heavily damaged, but her chainsaws do raise some questions.
"There is also a peculiar pattern when the deceased were autopsied," Raven said, showing Master Raven the pictures and reports of the dead bodies and comparing them to different types of crime scenes.
There is indeed a pattern. One that Master Raven should've spotted earlier. One that could've avoided her restless nights and agitation. One that could've made things crystal clear from the very beginning.
"The victims have some sort of initials carved into them, whether it was done by themselves or if it was done by the culprit themselves. Don't you think it's time we search for this? Or is it too early to tell?" Raven suggested while he looked up at Master Raven, who appeared to be lost in thought. She seems to be too dissociative to tell if she should go with Raven's idea or if she should try and find some more solid proof.
"We'll go for it, but I will need to question the two suspects before we proceed with anything. We can't cut corners," Master Raven orders as she finalizes her decision. She can finally put those restless and tiresome nights to ease, and she can finally make progress instead of just staying in square one. She immediately orders the capture of Bryan Fury and Alisa Bosconovitch, not wasting a single moment to advance her investigation.
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stainlesssteellocust · 4 months
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Notes on Historical Thaumaturgy: The Neural Lash, or, Ooh, Girl, Shock Me Like an Electric Eel
The neural lash is crude and barbaric, and I say that as someone who once spent a considerable amount of time chopping off dead men’s hands to use as candles. I’m not an expert on it, because it’s one of those situations where you can’t think too hard about the details without manifesting the damn thing; when it comes to magic, the map is often the same thing as the territory. But what I do know is bad enough.
The big issue is this: The thoughts of sentient beings are a powerful tool in ritual sorcery. Death is the big one; the reason all those hoary rites in ancient tomes call for mass human sacrifice is because the Old Masters didn’t know the first damn thing about the mathematical underpinnings of their art. Today you could pull the same stunts off with some decent code and two cc’s of mouse blood, but absent the efficiency of modern Computational Demonology, the raw entropic power unleashed by destroying a sentient mind will brute-force the process just fine. Hence why we’re still trying to keep the nitty-gritty details of thaumaturgy under wraps in case some script kiddie tries to summon Yog-Sothoth from his home PC, though after 2014 that battle is pretty much lost.
But it doesn’t always have to be death. Fear has a power to it too, as do oaths, and the breaking of taboos. And so does pain.
Pain is how the neural lash functions. The macro is simplistic, and requires very little effort on the user’s part; a thin thread of thaumaturgic energy that in the hands of a skilled user is almost undetectable.
The cruel elegance of the lash is how it affects the body of the target. That tiny initial strike inflames the victim’s nerves in such a way that the pain produces more power – which is harvested by the spell’s structure to cause more pain. Which invokes more power, which produces more pain, which…well, you get the picture. A small initial lash can liberate exponentially greater amounts of energy from the victim’s body, meaning that once you’ve learned the trick it isn’t difficult, it isn’t taxing, and as far as doing magic with a Mk.1 brain can ever be, it’s safe. A trained practitioner can do anything from drop you to the ground like you’ve been tazed to rending your body asunder with sheer liquid agony, or turning your brain into a pain-powered beacon for the Feeders from beyond.
If you’re thinking that sounds like a perpetual motion machine that runs on pure sadism, congratulations! That’s what I thought too, back when I was still young and wet behind the ears. But it’s really more of a positive feedback loop. Something similar happens in the nastier strains of flu, not the ones that have you calling in sick for a week but the ones that get names, and chapters in  the history books.
See, when the body detects infection it uses chemical messengers, cytokines, to recruit immune cells to fight the foreign invader. Many disease symptoms are actually caused by your own body’s efforts to help you; like fevers to burn out the infection inside you, or mucus to trap anything else that might be trying to get in. But sometimes things go too far: The immune cells call for back up and release more cytokines, the cytokines summon more immune cells, the immune cells release yet more cytokines…and you end up drowning to death in your own snot.
The neural lash is just as lethal, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s just as disgusting.
What gets me most of all is that it’s just so pointless. There’s no need for it in the modern day. A tool can tell you a lot about the situation that gave rise to it; if you have a lot of nails, for instance, you’re going to make a hammer. So what is the lash?
The lash is simple, fast, easy, extremely good at neutralising unwarded opponents, and an active affront to the idea of ethical warfare. It is not, however, that great at taking down another practitioner; the entire point is that the initial strike can be very weak, since it sets off the enemy’s own nerves like a bomb. Even the old personal wards they’ve been retiring lately could block it; you could up the power, sure, but that takes more effort and requires more risk, more communing with the forces beyond which might decide your brain looks good with ketchup. And that largely defeats the entire point.
Now, if you’re a barely-trained battle thaumaturge in the days before we could mass-produce a personal ward for the Laundry's lowest office workers, and you’re expecting to fight in open warfare against both other sorcerers and conventional enemies, possibly without much backup, and most importantly you are well past the point of expecting a long life, let alone caring about ethics in global warfare…This sort of trick looks pretty appealing. Use the quick, easy, relatively low-risk macro to chop through pesky mundane soldiers like a light machinegun and save the actually impressive stuff, the macros that’ll hit you with terminal K-Syndrome two times in five, for the threats that actually deserve it.
But now? A low risk of K-Syndrome still isn’t zero, and it won’t break even a basic ward without dangerous modification. Just taze someone. Or shoot them, if you really have to. I don’t like guns but I’d rather a gun than this. And if you really think you’re going to be facing armed gunmen, god, just call the Artist’s Rifles. This is what they train for.
Whatever you do, just leave this obsolete atrocity in the dustbin of history where it belongs.
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spacenutspod · 5 months
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Cataclysmic events happen in the Universe all the time. Black hole mergers, supernovae, gamma-ray bursts, and a whole host of others. Most of them happen in distant galaxies, so they pose no threat to us. But there are a few that could affect life on Earth, and a couple could even pose an existential threat. One of these threats is known as a kilonova. The threat generally comes from high-energy particles. Earth has a good atmosphere and a reasonably strong magnetic field, so we’re well protected from most solar flares and stray cosmic rays. We’re less protected by a truly powerful beam of gamma rays or X-rays that could ionize our atmosphere and kill life on Earth. The most popular idea is that a nearby supernova could kill us all, but the nearest large star that might explode any time soon is Betelguese. It’s just 650 light years away, but when it becomes a supernova it won’t harm Earth, it will just become a star nearly as bright as the Moon. A more recent idea is that a kilonova might get us. These are triggered by the merger of two neutron stars and can generate a tremendous amount of high-energy particles. They aren’t as bright as a supernova, but they can be a thousand times brighter than a nova. From the polar regions come beams of X-rays, and from the equatorial region comes the kilonova blast itself, which can accelerate particles to become cosmic rays. If Earth happens to be close to a kilonova, it would be very, very bad news for all of us. Fortunately, a recent study shows the kilonova risk is tiny. Structure of a kilonova. Credit: Perkins, et al The study is based on a neutron star merger observed in 2017. It was detected optically as a gamma-ray burst (GRB) and gravitationally as a compact object merger. This means we have good data on the masses and distances of the original neutron stars as well as the amount of energy they produced. The team then supplemented this data with theoretical simulations. There are three main threats from a kilonova explosion. The first is the X-ray emission from the afterglow of the event, which generally emanates from the polar region. Given the decrease in light intensity with distance, the team calculated it would pose a threat to a range of 5 parsecs, or about 16 light-years. The second threat is from the gamma rays produced by the explosion itself. Since gamma rays tend to scatter strongly off interstellar particles, they only pose a threat to 4 parsecs or 13 light-years. The third threat is more subtle. The first two would reach us at the speed of light, and if we were outside their threat radius we would see them only as an amazing light show. But the shock wave of the kilonova would create an expanding shell of high-energy cosmic rays. These could reach us a thousand years or more after the initial X-rays and gamma-rays. When the team calculated the lethal range of cosmic rays, they found it was nearly 36 light-years. So a nearby cosmic light show from a kilonova could be a warning of our imminent demise. But there’s no real need to worry. Given the rarity of neutron star mergers in the galaxy, the chance of Earth being close to a kilonova is essentially zero. A much greater risk comes from the solar flares of our own Sun, which mostly poses a technological risk, not an existential one. So we can sleep easy knowing that a neutron star merger isn’t likely to cause us any harm. Reference: Haille M. L. Perkins, et al. “Could a Kilonova Kill: a Threat Assessment.” arXiv preprint arXiv:2310.11627 (2023). The post How Close is Too Close to a Kilonova? appeared first on Universe Today.
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justcallmel0u1e · 1 year
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Stuttering With June 
Chapter 8: Cabin 7 
I finally found my cabin after looking for it for 30 minutes. It was cabin 7 with 3 other boys. I open the door and the air of insane amounts of febreze and perfume hit my nose .I immediately started coughing “*Cough* could yo- *cough* d-d-dial *cough* back t-the p-per- *cough fume” “What do you mean? It’s only a tiny bit” he said. The guy with perfume had short curly black hair and sunglasses with dark skin. “A tiny bit ?! You just sprayed the whole god damn perfume industry in the cabin ! I can smell it all the way from here!” A voice that sounded like it belonged to a 17 year old male said. 
I turned around and saw the TINY KID FROM THE BUS. How is his so deep he looks like he’s 12 years old. And why is he here isn’t this suppose to be teens side shouldn’t he be in the kids sides. “Hey aren’t you suppose to be with the kids ?” The guy with curly asked after touching the top of the little brats head feeling how short he was. “I’m 17 years old you idiot.” The tiny kid said. Me and the curly haired kid bursted out laughing. “Sorry kid but you won’t be able to hang out the older boys today maybe at lunch” the curly haired boy said. 
The tiny kid reached into his bag and pulled his camp ID. 
Name: Ivan Kozloz 
Age: 17
“17 ?!” I shouted Ivan pushed me out and slapped the curly haired kids hand away from him  and walked into the cabin. I noticed that he was grabbing the arm of the tall kid he was with. “Come on Andrei” he said. “*COUGH* *COUGH*”” Ivan came running out the cabin with his brother. “Open the god damn windows” Ivan said weakly. “I thought the smell would’ve worn off by now” his brother said. 
After some of the febreze and perfume smell had worn off even though there was still some but it wasn’t full on lethal like it was earlier. But anyways we started unpacking our things and settling in the cabin. The cabin had 2 sets of bunk beds that were connected to the wall and we had a little baby blue carpet that was in the form of a circle in the middle of the floor. Then there was 2 drawers with four doors on them each there was also 2 desks with a stack of printing paper on the bottom of it. It had a medium sized lamp on it. 
We had 4 windows on each wall and my favorite part 4 little macabun plushies that looked like this. 
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We started getting settled in and in my bag was some fidget toys a few barbecue chip bags and all the other basic stuff. Oh and I can’t forget my sketch book. When I was done I could see all the stuff that the other guys were unpacking. The guy with the curly hair had tons of perfume,books written in braille ‘wait why would he need a book that was written in braille maybe he wants to learn it’ I thought. And he also had a cane with him ‘what dose he need he a cane for ?’ I thought. 
Then Ivan pulled out a whole bunch on electronics a concerning amount and a bunch of chargers and a thick and huge book about coding. For last there was Andrei he brought a laptop, Kirby manga mania Vol 1 and Vol 2 and a creepy worn out bunny plushie. 
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“Okay so counselor Kris told us to introduce ourselves to each other” the curly haired boy said with a smile. “So who wants to go first” we all sat down in pure silence. He gave us a disappointed look and said “Okay since NONE OF YOU WANT TO TALK. I will go first” he said. He sounded very aggressive when he was talking about the part that we didn’t want to talk. “So anyways my is Luxe Tux and I am blind-“ all of us interrupted Luxe with a “WAIT YOU’RE BLIND ?!”. “Yeah I’m blind” Luxe said as he took off his sunglasses. His eyes looked milky and cloudy one of his irises was looking all the way to the side. Luxe quickly put his sunglasses back on “sorry it kind of hurts to them off when I’m around bright lights” 
“But I like perfume a lot and I like dancing” Luxe said with a smile on his face. “But wait, if you’re blind how did you know where to go and how did you know that was SH-“ Ivan punched Andrei’s stomach when he was about to say short. “FUN SIZE I MEANT FUN SIZED” he said. I saw Andrei started to cuddle up with his creepy bunny plushie. “I had my hand over him for a reason and you really didn’t have to punch him. You really are tiny for your age you’re like 4,11. “Uh I’m actually 5,0 you stupid asshole
“ .“Calm down Ivan” Andrei said while holding Ivan even though he could easily pick him up. 
“How about you we don’t know you’re name” Luxe pointed at me. “Uh w-w-well m-m-my n-n-n-n-name I-I-I-“ “you need a quick break or something ?” Ivan said while kind of giggling. “LET HIM SPEAK YOU EMO DWARF !” Luxe shouted angrily which freaked me out a bit so I covered my ears. “I am so sorry for his behavior” Luxe said patting my shoulder “Hey you’re not my mom” Ivan said angrily. 
End of chapter 8
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bryanbryan50 · 2 years
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The Crack In The Wall
While I personally have never tried crack cocaine, I have talked to people, including friends, who've or still do utilize it. This is one of essentially the most addictive drugs ever called. Many crackheads relapse after treatment since return on the lives they were living before entering method. The allure of crack is too irresistible to withstand on private personal. Even in case the halfway residence is modest, it is going to still aid you stay thoroughly. If you have opportunity to travel to one, don't create mistake of thinking it's need the game. The coach then took some time with her to demonstrate to her some techniques that is needed her in the quest to get to better. They spoke for an estimated 10 seconds. Or should I only say the coach spoke for 10 minutes and over listened. She then jumped back in the batters box to practice taking some other swings at the ball. This book is outlined as a pc for an individual start using, as tend to be reading. This a walk-through guide. Witch makes it perfect for new bees to affiliate marketing, it is very user-friendly. If the crack is small, you have to can still fix that. Those hairline cracks and small holes basic to to solution. The car owner will only spend poor amount once they fix them. This will save them funds that process, which is use a few other purposes. To alter the entire windshield cost a week's allowance. In this case, always be wise make investments in quick-fix solutions tiny cracks and holes for your car auto glass. When we buy windshield repair kits today, it comes with an instruction guide in which easy to follow. It also comes with tools which usually are necessary in fixing the crack or holes. Quick repair kits and solutions are on any variety store and local auto facilities. Items tend to be going to need to fix this situation are a chisel, a hammer, some foundation cement for repairs, a trowel, some shovels, picks, helical piers and mounting bolts and a ratchet wrench. Make sure that you have all of they before you start to seek information work. gameloop crack free download is completely lethal, causing horrible scratches to the mind and body. The intensity in the addiction known. If you have an acquaintance who is smoking crack, try to get them help as soon as just as possible. A crack addict may die before they decide to quit the drug abuse. They will use any means easy to continue their addiction. Need drugs, a crack user's "rock bottom" is usually far not up to other drug users. But razer cortex game booster crack can and do receive. It happens all time so there is hope for you personally personally or the addict you love. But waste no time in getting help. There may not be another program.
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theredquilt · 3 years
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@rhettjmc @lallyloo Please prepare yourselves for copious tiny faces and noises in the more. I was sadly unprepared and nearly perished 😔
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jalapeno-princess · 3 years
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Kiss Me More
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Mark Tuan X Reader
Word count: 6.1K
Genre: Very fluffy smut
Warning: Some sexy time in there nothing too extreme (hehehe...or is there?)
Summary: You were confident in the fact that your sex life with Mark was very exciting, wild and fun to say the least. In more or less words, it was perfect. Just your relationship in general was the kind that many people around you would be the envy of. It’s been four years since you began dating and you could honestly say it has been the best four years of your life so far because of him. He was the best boyfriend you could possibly ask for; kind, funny, gentle, considerate, soft-spoken, generous and extremely handsome. He took really good care of you and it was obvious by both his actions and his words that he was madly in love with you. As the two of you are coming down from your sex highs, you grow curious as to why once your love making sessions were over, so is the intimacy. Surely, your boyfriend has his reasons for not kissing you for too much longer as you’re about to go to bed. Right?
A/N: Based on the song “Kiss Me More” by Doja Cat and Sza. I am obsessed with this song and I knew I had to write something based on it so I hope you all enjoy! (I don’t really care for how the ending turned out but whatever).
We hug and yes, we make love And always just say "Goodnight" (la-la-la-la-la) And we cuddle, sure I do love it But I need your lips on mine
Can you kiss me more? We're so young, boy We ain't got nothin' to lose, oh, oh It's just principle Baby, hold me 'Cause I like the way you groove, oh, oh
Boy, you write your name, I can do the same Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la All on my tongue, I want it (la-la-la-la) Boy, you write your name, I can do the same Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la-la All on my tongue, I want it
“Ah—shit, shit—baby, I’m going to need you to slow down. Please—we have the whole night, I just—y/n—fuck. You’re so fucking sexy—“ Against your boyfriend’s pleas, you only sped up your pace to rile him more than he already was. 
“The whole night? We’ve been at this for three hours baby. I think I’m gonna tap out here soon. Aren’t you tired?” 
The devilish grin that immediately rose on his face at your confession confirmed that no—he was not tired or if he was, he still had enough energy to keep pumping in to you. You were currently bouncing on his cock; sinking up and down on him like it was your life duty to do so. 
Your walls were clenched around him deliciously; his hardened length filled you up to the hilt with every thrust. The tip grazed along your nub; flicking it with every pump and it was quickly driving you to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d find yourself in this position tonight. 
The two of you were exhausted beyond belief; you were at school since six in the morning up until four in the afternoon earlier today. You had finished two midterms and one very important exam you’ve been studying almost an entire month for. Tired wasn’t even a good enough word to describe your current state. 
Your boyfriend was just as much in bad shape as you were. His boss had him doing multiple errands today on top of completing his own assigned work. He only arrived home a little over an hour ago. When you heard the front door of your shared apartment gently open, you had to prevent yourself from running towards him and embracing him with all the power you had in your tiny body. 
You were confident that he was probably worn out and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. From previous experiences, sometimes your boyfriend would go straight to bed upon arrival—being too fatigued to care about eating or taking a shower even. 
Although you were just as tired and in more or less words; overworked to the bone, seeing your boyfriend slumped while his dark circles grew more and more prominent every day, you mustered up enough energy to iron his clothes for the next day, prepare the clothes he’d wear to sleep, pack him a lunch and even get some of his toiletries ready if he felt like wanting to rinse off just a bit. 
To your surprise, as soon as he made his way towards you—before you could even open your mouth to ask your boyfriend how his day was, his pretty, heart-shaped lips that you loved so much were fervently smashed against yours. He gave you no time in preparing yourself for what was to come next before he roughly grabbed you at your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. 
His mouth never left yours as he led the two of you to your shared bedroom. It boggled your mind that he was giving you his full attention; gnawing and sucking on your lips while he carried you to the room without bumping in to anything or tripping on the rug. Maybe he’s gotten used to doing so since the two of you have been in this exact same scenario more times than you can count on both hands. 
There were so many thoughts running through your mind and questions on the tip of your tongue—concerning the sudden affection and lust he was currently showing you, but whatever you wanted to ask him no longer mattered the second he shoved his tongue down your throat and squeezed both your ass cheeks before slapping them hard. 
“Mark—babe is everything okay—“
“Work was shit—complete and utter shit. I missed you so fucking much like I do every single day I’m at that shithole and so I logged on to Snapchat and to my surprise—and delight, my beautiful girlfriend sent me a few snaps of her pretty outfit today. Don’t play innocent baby, you knew exactly what you were doing as soon as you hit send. You are well aware of the fact that I was seconds away from calling in sick this morning and fucking you in to oblivion right against the kitchen counter when you walked out in to the living room. Ah—there was so many things I wanted to say. Don’t get me wrong, you look breathtakingly beautiful in every single thing that you wear, but my dress shirt and that pencil skirt that hugs you in all the right places and leaves little to the imagination? Tsk tsk—it’s like you wanted me to rearrange your guts tonight.” 
You looked at him in curiosity; it took you a few moments to pin point exactly what photos he was referring to. Since you were so busy today, you completely forgot about sneaking to the bathroom and taking a few pictures of yourself. This last week has been extremely busy for both you and your boyfriend—and so the thought of being intimate with him felt like a fever dream. 
Sex with Mark had to be one of your favorite activities not only as a couple, but just in general. One thing about the older boy that you admired was the fact that he was very talented in each and every single thing he put his mind in to. Baseball, volleyball, football, golf, tennis, soccer, martial arts—it wasn’t even only sports. 
Mark was exceptionally intelligent; he was one of the only people you knew that was good at both reading and math. He also could finish a Rubik’s cube in under two minutes which was quite the impossible task. Every single thing your boyfriend did never failed to impress you. However, you felt as though he was the best at blowing your mind in more ways than one. 
The older boy was extremely generous; he always bought you cute little gifts that reminded him of you, he’d pay for every single date against your pleas no matter where the two of you would go, he’d sacrifice his time and work his schedule around yours so he could pick you up and drop you off wherever you needed to go. When it came to the bedroom, he always put you and your needs first. Mark always made it his main priority to make sure you came first, that you were genuinely having a good time and overall he wanted to do whatever he possibly could to make you comfortable. 
Some days, he’d be so focused on eating you out that he found pleasure and got his full strictly by sucking on your pussy. If you were having a rough day, he’d prepare you a bath and get you all your favorite snacks in attempts of cheering you up but not before finding his place in between your thighs and dragging his tongue along your slit faster than you could actually handle. Mark was the king of overstimulation; one of his kinks was driving you crazy and not giving you a chance to do anything about it. 
He was extremely good at sex— and his body was handcrafted by God. Every single thing about him was annoyingly perfect; he wasn’t the most muscular man but he wasn’t exactly skinny either. He had just the right amount of muscle, a six pack and he was well endowed. Although you considered penises very unattractive before you met Mark, something about his was so pretty and it always made your mouth water. 
You weren’t sure if you preferred having it buried deep inside of your cunt, or filling up your throat—both felt so phenomenal. Out of all the positions you and Mark experimented in during your four year relationship, your favorites had to be doggy, missionary and the one you were currently in right now. In most of your love making sessions, Mark took the lead and dominated you—not that you ever objected. 
A dominant Mark—degrading, rough, animalistic was the sexiest Mark—well, next to jealous and overprotective which usually led to the passionate and extremely freaky sex the two of you’d have. But there were times where you would take control because Mark was the definition of a switch; and something about him submitting to you and whatever you told him to always sent your mind in a frenzy.
Mark was very vocal about how he came faster whenever you would find yourself riding him specifically because watching your breasts bounce, getting to see your gorgeous face and observing your pussy swallow his cock whole—your juices coating his entire length, the sensation was lethal. His hands gripped on your waist all but gently; you might have been the one on top but your boyfriend was a powerbottom. He never allowed you to do things on your own, especially during sex. 
“Nope. I’m like the energizer bunny whenever we make love. In fact, I could probably fuck you for a solid four more hours. I know sex isn’t everything in a relationship and there are so many other things I love to do with you—but damn, you’re a fucking dream y/n. We have sex almost every single day and it always feels like the first time. If you’re exhausted baby, you can get off. As much as I particularly enjoy and get off on the feeling of your ass clapping against my balls, I’m sure it’s pretty tiring.” 
You had to stifle back a laugh at his choice of words; when the two of you first became intimate with one another, there was a lot of laughter and playful banter in the duration of your sexy time to which you didn’t think was normal. Then again, your relationship with Mark was never normal from the start. Your relationship was the envy of a lot of the people around you. 
It’s been over four years yet somehow—maybe it was the deep, passionate love you held for one another, but you were still surprisingly in the honeymoon stage. Neither you or Mark could get enough of each other. Sometimes, whenever the two of you would tumble in to bed together, some jokes, corny pickup lines and even riddles would be thrown in while Mark would be railing you and on some occasions, he’d say things at the wrong time, but you still had so much fun nonetheless. 
“I’m not too tired, I just don’t want to be immobile for the next week. My thighs are jelly and I have work in the morning. I’ve called out three times already in the last month because you fulfill your promises of wrecking me and I’m sure my boss is aware of the fact that it’s not possible for me to get food poisoning that many times within days of each other—“
“I mean, I have no regrets honestly and if I remember correctly, you’re always the one telling me to “go faster” and to “fuck me harder daddy”—ow! What? I’m just stating the facts—“
“I know, but it sounds weird when you say it.” 
He playfully rolled his eyes before stealing a sloppy kiss from the corner of your mouth and motioned for you to get off of him. As much as you were reveling in his many wanton noises and lustful facial expressions, you could feel your legs giving out and you were in no position to be calling out sick again. At least not for another week or two. You let out a whine at the feeling of him slowly pulling out of you; you weren’t ashamed to say you were a huge fan of how it felt to be full of your boyfriend’s cock. 
Cock warming was another favorite kink of yours. Mark on the other hand, would have to mentally prepare a few minutes prior to staying inside of you. It was hard for him to stay idle—he’s told you this many times. As much as he wanted to do whatever you asked of him and wanted to please you no matter what it was you desired, the feeling of your tight, wet and warm walls clenching around him was too much. He allowed it to happen, but not for too long. He could be the one to tap out, but a couple minutes of cockwarming could lead to another round of sex and in many cases; it did.
“What a baby, can’t even go a couple of seconds without my dick inside of her—“
“Shut up, I can go in to the bathroom and finish myself off if I wanted to—“
“We all know your fingers aren’t enough to get you seeing stars princess. And that stupid dildo you bought when I was away in Taiwan last year can’t do shit for you either.” 
Thankfully, he didn’t take too long in throwing you against the bed and lining himself back at your entrance. You were seeping of your essence at this point and he swiped himself along your folds so that it would be easier for him to slip back inside. He brought his face up to your ear and his breath was hot against your jaw as he leaned in to whisper naughty words that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. 
“Only I can bring you to sheer ecstasy. Only I can get you to see white—only I can get your head spinning. My fingers; we both know how much my fingers are one of your favorite body parts of mine.” He wrapped one hand around your neck gently, making sure to glide his thumb along your pressure point while swiping some of your juices with his index finger and bringing it up to your mouth. 
“Taste yourself baby. I want you to experience the euphoria I go through whenever I eat out this pretty cunt of yours. Well—back to what I was saying, my tongue, I know exactly how to use it as we make out, when I suck on this pretty little neck of yours or when I suck the life out of your pussy—so even if you were to finger yourself like the dirty girl you are, you’ll never reach the mind blowing orgasm only I can give to you. Now, I think it’s time I teach you a lesson for speaking out against me.” 
You bit your lip in anticipation for the excitement that was to come; whenever Mark would get jealous or whenever you were bratty and went against whatever he commanded you to do, that’s when he would fuck your brains out. How the two of you were still going at it with such a rapid and forceful pace had yet to really process completely in your mind, but you didn’t question it. A muttered groan fell from both your lips and his as soon as he found his place back inside of you. 
Immediately, he placed his face in the crook of your neck for what you were accustomed to him trying his best not to moan loudly. He dragged his teeth along the juncture of your nape before sinking his teeth in and leaving a dark love bite in its wake. 
“Mark!” 
You swatted his arm once you felt the spot begin to throb. Sure, you found it extremely sexy whenever he’d mark his territory because it proved just how possessive and overprotective he was over you but at the same time, hickeys were difficult to cover up and you were confident the purple mark would be on display for your professors, classmates, coworkers, boss and clients to see. 
“Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself—I’ll help you put some makeup on it tomorrow. It’s just that—ugh, how the fuck are you always so damn tight? We have sex on a daily basis, you should be stretched out by now.”
“You men obviously don’t understand the anatomy of a woman. You’re lucky you’re attractive and very sweet, you’re lacking intelligence—“
“Hey—“
“Just fuck me already asshole.” 
You didn’t have to ask him twice. He went straight in to ramming his cock in and out of you. There was no time to be soft or gentle; the two of you were just moments away from your releases. You preferred the softness and romanticism that came with making love, but right now all you could think about was how amazing it felt when the tip of his cock reached your cervix. 
“Feels—“
“So fucking good.” 
Your breasts were bouncing up and down with every thrust and to your delight, your boyfriend cupped one of your mounds in his hand; flicking your nipple all but gently and earning himself the sexiest growl he’s ever heard in his life. He wrapped his lips around your other breast and swirled his tongue around your nipple—bringing the nub in between his teeth and nibbling on it. 
“Such pretty titties—so soft, so big—your body belongs in an art museum. You’re a masterpiece. Everything about you—I can’t even wrap my head around your beauty. You’re really a sight for sore eyes you know that?” 
Slowly, you shaking my brought your palm up to his face and cupped his cheek feather lightly. You brought your free hand in to his hair and softly tugged at his curly, brown locks. 
“I—I love you Mark—“
“Mmm—I love you more baby girl. So much more. Every time you say those three words, I feel like a little kid who’s crush complimented his outfit. You do wonders on my heart. What did I do to deserve you?” 
Out of no where, he lifted up one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. This position allowed him to reach deeper inside of you which you didn’t even know there was more of you for him to reach. 
“Shit—shit, just like that Mark—“
“You like that baby?” 
You nodded in agreement fervently; he needed to know the effect that this position was having on you. Something about having him on top of you, even if missionary was a position that most people considered boring and ordinary—you felt like you were going to burst in to flames at any moment. The sound of his pelvis clapping against your ass cheeks sounded off throughout the room. It only heightened the sexual desire that already filled up the atmosphere. His grip on your lower waist tightened as the two of you grew closer and closer to your ends. 
“So tight—so wet—so perfect and all mine.” 
He brought your other leg up on to his shoulder and you could fill your orgasm right at the edge. A loud moan fell from his lips and he tried to conceal it by smashing his mouth against yours, but you only felt the vibration on your tongue as he hummed in contentment. 
“Mark—I can’t—it’s too much—“
“I know baby, I know. I’m almost there too. Can you hold on for just a little longer?” 
With all the energy you could muster, you nodded against his chest and allowed him to reconnect your lips together; his speed was relentless and with the way the bed was creaking, you knew that there was a huge chance it would break soon and you would get yet another noise complaint. Probably the seventh one in the last month. You were secretly hoping that he was closer than you were and that he was only holding on as long as possible so you both could continue your late night romp. 
Your boyfriend was a nymphomaniac; sex might not have been the most important part of your relationship, but after a long, stressful day at work, he found relief in releasing his anger and frustration on your body. Making love was even better—but it didn’t matter how the two of you were intimate, just having your skin against his and your tongue battling for dominance with his, the sensation never failed to turn his sour mood in to a much happier and lighter one. 
He was happiest being one with you. Just by the way he let go of your hips to intertwine your hands together, you were confident that he was about to cum. Whenever he was at his end, he’d stop whatever he was doing to hold your hands and leaned back so that he could get a better look at you. Seeing your fucked out state; sweat dripping down your neck and chest, cheeks flushed with warmth, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth gasping for air—knowing that he was the cause behind your beautiful glow, it brought him confidence and glee. 
Soon, you were being filled with his warm creamy liquid in spurts—the sensation of being full of his sperm was one that you still haven’t gotten used to. It was just that mind blowing. Your orgasm followed in suit just seconds after. It felt like a tidal wave swallowing you whole, you were drowning but in the best way. It was hard to describe; but it was a high you never wanted to come down from. You were speechless; there were no words to describe just how on top of the world you were currently feeling. 
Mark called it a sex high. Whenever you and your boyfriend would find yourselves tangled in the sheets, you felt like you were in another world. Maybe it was just a high off of Mark himself. He was hot; there was no doubt about it and honestly you could stare at him all day if time permitted you to. For a couple of minutes, there was a peaceful silence.
All you wanted to do was calm your rapid heartbeat and to get your breathing under control. Mark’s heart pounded against your chest and his dick that was once hard as a rock was now soft and limp inside of your cavern—neither of you moved; he was pressed up against your breasts and his head was smashed up along your collarbone. Your mind was too hazy to really feel the stickiness of his sweaty body, but if this were under different circumstances you probably would’ve pushed him off. 
Less than five minutes later, Mark leaned back enough so that he had a better view to look at you. He gently brushed back some of your hair and glided his thumb along your cheek—bringing it down to your bottom lip. The soft smile he was giving you as you placed a kiss amongst the calloused digit sent electricity through your veins. In times like these; where you were bare, not just physically but spiritually and mentally and in the comfort of your boyfriends arms, you always felt so safe—so at ease, so serene, so loved. 
You might have just did something so naughty, yet you couldn’t help but blush timidly. No matter how many times the two of you relished in your love for one another, you always felt so shy with his wandering eyes gazing all along your body. Even if he’s seen you naked at least a hundred times, you still found yourself turning red under his stare. 
A few sweet kisses were placed against your mouth as what you assumed was a distraction because as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, he slowly pulled himself out from your slick walls. The two of you groaned at the feeling of emptiness; you gave him a glare—upset that he pulled out so soon especially since you told him earlier that you were in the mood for cockwarming. 
“Mark—“
“I know, I’m sorry baby. I just want to clean you up and get us ready for bed. I think your pussy puts me to sleep a lot more often now. But if you want to take a bath, I can go prepare one for you—“ 
Something about the thought of fucking Mark to exhaustion made you giggle. Especially because moments ago, he was wanting to continue having sex for much longer. “No, I don’t think I can walk you asshole. I’ll just take one in the morning before my shift. But thank you. Am I wearing you out Tuan?”
“Yes and I’m not afraid to admit it. I think five orgasms in less than two hours would do that to someone. You’re so fucking sexy and so damn good to me there’s no point in trying to conceal my feelings for the sake of my pride. I’d shout it at the top of my lungs if I had to—I’m completely whipped for you and I have every intention on keeping it that way for the rest of our lives. Now, I’ll be right back okay?” 
With a couple of kisses against the corner of your mouth, he disappeared in to your bathroom. It was only natural for you to snicker to yourself at the sight of his cute little butt as he quickly walked over to get a warm wash cloth and a bottle of water. You decided to take that time to reminisce on tonight’s escapade. 
Every time you thought about your love making sessions with Mark, your stomach would swarm with butterflies. In the beginning of your relationship when you were just beginning to learn more and more about each other, the sex the two of you would experiment in was exciting, fun and intoxicating—not that it wasn’t like that anymore. 
But now that you were both so madly in love with one another, it was more passionate, more meaningful and a lot more desirable. You always had to be touching him and without even having to ask him, he’d always have his hands on you too. The bed sank and before you could even comprehend what was going on, a wet towel was gently being brushed along your lower body. 
He first got in between your thighs, making sure to wipe up any excess cum that might have dripped from your entrance. Then he brought it up to your navel, making sure to rid visible sweat—then finally he cleaned your folds and with the way a tingling sensation began to develop, you knew he was purposely taking his time to mess around with and to get a rise out of you. 
Right as you were about to whine in attempts to get him to stop, he got another washcloth and wiped your face. Mark was well aware of how your skincare was very important to you. He’d watch you take the time to put on moisturizer, toner and sunscreen on in the mornings and right before bed. 
It was the little things that he recognized that made your heart swell; no matter how many times a day he’d tell you that he loved you, he professed his love just a little bit more through his actions. Once he was done, he helped you put on a clean pair of underwear and one of his t-shirts—a reoccurring act of affection he did not too long after you came down from your highs. 
With a sweet kiss on your forehead, he went back in to the bathroom to prepare for bed; brushing his teeth and putting on a pair of sweatpants before taking his spot next to you under the covers. By instinct, you were pulled up against his chest and his arms snaked around your hips. He left wet kisses all along your face; making sure to steal a few pecks from your lips as he smiled against your mouth. 
“That was mind blowing as always. My pretty—pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect. What did I do to deserve you? God, I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve made love—“
“It’s been three days Mark—“
“Exactly. That’s a long time baby. Especially because I crave you every second of the day. I can’t get over how wonderful you are. Literally flawless. Rest up baby, once you come home tomorrow I’m having you again and again and again—“
“Oh God, how I’m not pregnant at this point is still a mystery to me. Horndog.” 
He let out the most adorable little giggle while turning your body so that he was spooning you. He’s told you many times that as much as he loved being able to see your face, he was more comfortable in this position. You were confident it was because he’d get to feel your ass pressed up against his length, but you didn’t want him feeling embarrassed if that was the real reason behind. Besides, you felt so safe and protected in this position. 
However, you’ve been contemplating on voicing your feelings about how nights would end right after you and your boyfriend would tap out from either exhaustion or overstimulation. Sure, you loved the cuddling and being held by him, but that was pretty much it. He’d kiss you a couple of times and then he’d say good night. If you both had even the tiniest amount of energy, you’d stay up and talk about whatever it was that your hearts desired. 
You wanted to kiss him for much longer than the fleeting kisses—you fantasized about spending a little more time with his soft lips on yours. Maybe he saved the makeout sessions for the bedroom. But even during sex, the kisses were hot and wild—in the heat of the moment, but you were too busy focusing on being penetrated to really enjoy kissing him. 
“Well, I mean my pullout game is the best—“
“You literally just came inside of me that’s a joke right?” 
He let out a scoff of disbelief and although you couldn’t see him, he playfully rolled his eyes. “I mean, well, you know—yeah whatever. The thought of impregnating you is a huge kink of mine. You’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives. You’re going to be the best mother one day and the cutest little pregnant lady. I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby and I’m even more impatient in finally starting a family with you. You really are the love of my life. Look at how sappy you’ve made me. Mmm, I love you, I love you, I love you. Sweet dreams my love.” 
Hearing him confess all that he did about his love for you and the future the two of you had together—you couldn’t stop the smile from taking over the entirety of your face. Almost every single thing Mark said—no matter how naughty or straight up cheesy it was never failed to make your heartbeat increase. You were soon feeling silly for worrying about such a minuscule thing and you wished it could have been enough for you. Yet, the question was on the tip of your tongue; you were mentally battling with yourself. 
There had to be a reason why the kissing stopped once you both reached your fill. You didn’t want to seem too clingy or overdramatic—maybe you were overthinking things. Your mind kept telling you to leave it alone and that he had his reasons, yet you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in your head that begged you to continue to pry at him. Mark looked down at you in curiosity when you turned around to face him. He lifted up your chin and furrowed his brows in confusion. 
“Everything alright y/n?”
“Why don’t you kiss me more?” Your question was muffled since you were too shy to ask him out right and hid your face in the crook of his neck. 
“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you—“
“I want you to kiss me more.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean? Where is this coming from baby?” 
An exasperated sigh fell from your lips and you were soon regretting actually asking him the question that’s been weighing heavy on your mind for months now. It was extremely silly now that the question was actually out there but the reason why your relationship with your boyfriend had been so healthy all these years is because conversation was one of the most important keys to making sure you were both on the same page. 
The last thing Mark wanted was for you to be uncomfortable or to feel as though you had to hide your feelings for his sake. Which is why you weren’t surprised to see him looking at you worriedly, waiting patently for you to go in to further detail. 
“Right before we go to bed, whether it’s after sex or just once we’re done doing whatever it is after we both come home from work, you give me a few kisses and then we cuddle and fall asleep. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy doing those things. I just—I want more. I love kissing you if you didn’t already know that by now. Kissing you is one of my favorite activities that we do because your lips are so addicting. But we only ever passionately kiss during sex and when we make out it usually leads to love making and theres really nothing wrong with that. I just wish we could kiss without having it end up or only be during sex.” 
Although the lights were off and you could barely see him, you could tell he was wearing a blank expression on his face. He continued his ministrations of gliding his fingers along your sides but he stayed silent for a few moments. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole; you were so embarrassed but this was your boyfriend. 
He needed to know how you felt if your relationship was going to continue as beautifully as it currently was. To your surprise, he lifted up your chin and reconnected your lips together in a very passionate kiss. His hands cupped either sides of your face and he roughly nipped and sucked on your lips; leaving you breathless as he deepened the kiss further.
It was only natural for you to smile against his mouth; you were hoping you didn’t upset him and that he was only kissing you like this to please you. You were hoping he too was finding some enjoyment in kissing you right now. As his lips continued to attack yours, he took that chance to flip you on top of your back and stole a couple more kisses before sucking on your sweet spot right below your ear. This was what you wanted; it felt so wonderful and you felt even more closer to him than you felt a little over half an hour ago with his cock buried deep inside of you. 
“How was that? By that gorgeous smile of yours and the way your lips are swollen I’m assuming you quite liked that.” You nodded in agreement and stole a few kisses from the corner of his mouth. 
“I’m sorry if I made you feel as though I’m not interested in continuing our intimacy once we’re about to go to bed. Trust me, kissing you is my favorite thing to do with you too. You drive me fucking crazy. I’ve actually questioned myself about this numerous times too but I just assumed you were tired and I didn’t want to press you in to doing something just because I wanted to do it. Plus—“ 
He led your hand down to his sweatpants and your cheeks grew warm at the feeling of his hardened cock. It never failed to make you laugh seeing as how easy it was for him to grow horny at just the simplest touch. “This is why our make out sessions lead to sex and why I was hesitant about telling you that I wanted to be more intimate with you rather than the small pecks and holding you before falling asleep myself. It’s just going to lead in to another round. God, I sound like such a nymphomaniac but I’m proud to say that I am. I got a very sexy girlfriend, who could blame me for wanting to relish in our love at least once a day? Well, now that I know how you feel y/n, I would love to kiss you more. A lot more. why don’t we experiment a little tonight and see where it leads tomorrow?” You beamed up with him and with all the energy you still had left inside of you, flipped your bodies so you were on top. It obviously riled him up and the cheeky grin he was giving you sent warmth to your core. 
“That sounds like a plan. Now kiss me.”
“With pleasure.”
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johnkrrasinski · 4 years
Text
Dear Lover... ❥
full masterlist
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader
Word count: 5,689 
Warning: pure fluff. pure feelings. a little bit of angst but with a happy ending 😌
Summary: you dance with bucky barnes in the obscurity of your room as you recalled the first time you met and how three years later you ended up tangled in each other’s arms. (based on the song “lover” by taylor swift) 
a/n: this one’s a love letter to the love of my life aka bucky barnes. it took me awhile to find the will to write about him because i truly wanna write something that gives him justice, because this man deserves nothing but happiness and love. hope you like it. please leave a like & comment. 
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It was a quiet Thursday evening, precisely at 8.35 PM. The rain outside of the Avengers tower was pouring, splatters of misty droplets bedewed the window glass. Through the lens of your shared room, transpierced the lights of the bustling city of New York. The city that never sleeps, as one would say. You could hear the sound of honking cars and sirens going off somewhere and it truly eased your mind.
You loved New York. You were born and raised in this vivacious city. Though your parents took the chance to move to Manhattan and fought to survive the exorbitant living cost, they managed. They taught you to fight hard and work tenaciously if you wanted to make it. The city was all you knew your entire life. But most importantly, you loved the man you were sharing this bedroom with more.
You had been dating Bucky Barnes, aka the former Winter Soldier, aka the White Wolf, for three summers now. Your first encounter with him wasn’t exactly the most romantic “how I met your mother” kind of story.
You were in the kitchen, late night, trying to make yourself a nice hot chocolate to cool down your nerves. Moving into the Avengers Tower had truly wearied you. Of course, you were aware that you weren’t supposed to be since there were literally a super soldier, a former Pararescueman, a man with a highly advanced iron suit, two highly trained assassins, a powerful witch, a (part-time) green beast, and an actual living human android helping you with your belongings. You couldn’t have asked for better movers.
But the adaptation of change still drained some of your energy. Maybe more mentally than physically, but whatever, you just needed a nice, sweet warm drink before you can finally sleep in your fresh, new, never used before bed. It was nearing four am and everyone had returned to their private quarters, except you.
You walked into the kitchen leisurely in nothing but your Bambi pyjamas, as you reached for the kitchen cabinet to search for a jar of instant hot chocolate. “Make yourself at home,” Tony said earlier as he was giving you a quick tour around the tower. The tower was so spacious and palatial, it was easy to get lost. “We’ve got everything here; food, snacks, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, ice creams and more… But don’t eat the half-eaten fried egg chicken on the fridge, though. That one belongs to Clint and he wouldn’t hesitate in shooting an arrow through your skull if you stole it.”
You poured the hot water into the glass and then you were ready to drink it up. You were so pleased by the taste of hot chocolate streaming through your tongue, you didn’t hear the faint sounds of footsteps approaching. Bucky had just returned from a solo mission to Brussels and he hadn’t had the chance to properly introduce himself to you. He had only heard about you through Fury and Tony’s narrative when they informed the team that they were going to have a new addition to the team.
Steve had texted him a picture of her earlier, picking up her boxes to her new bedroom… She looked lovely. She was only wearing a simple white shirt with high-waisted, ripped blue jeans to complete the casual look but, she didn’t have to try hard to catch his eye. He couldn’t wait to go back to the tower and talk to her. He crossed his finger hoping that he wouldn’t mess it up or embarrassingly stutter his own name whilst shaking her hand.
Bucky soundlessly walked towards you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, trying not to startle you but you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake, and you didn’t know that Bucky was supposed to return today. Your brain had been so occupied with moving in, that you forgot there was one member of the team missing because he was on a solo mission and that he was supposed to return in the early morning.
So you accidentally dropped your glass, spilling your little taste of heaven all over the counter, as you turned around and punched him on the face. You shrieked as soon as you felt a palm touching your shoulder, thinking it might’ve been a ghost or worse, an intruder. For a second there, you nearly forgot that you weren’t living all by yourself in a tiny apartment anymore. You were in the most highly secured building in New York, surrounded by vigilant superheroes that had fought bigger guys than a callow thief or more lethal than supernatural forces.
Bucky’s hand immediately went to his face, as he shrieked in pain. He absolutely didn’t expect a punch from you, considering he meant well. He slightly backed away on his feet, clutching the nose that had bled due to the robust force. You soon realized that he was Bucky Barnes, the Avenger that had just gone back from a solo mission Steve told you about, and you had just realized that you punched… The Winter Soldier. Oh my God. Your guilt rushes through your gut and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand in panic.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still awake, I’m so sorry.” You reached out to his hand, trying to see the damage that you did.
“No, it’s okay, doll. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that, I’m sorry.” He wiped the blood that leaked out his nose.
“No, no, no, it wasn’t your fault at all, I shouldn’t have reacted like that… Please, let me help you with that.”
“I got it doll, really. It’s nothing.”
“I insist. Please, otherwise I’d feel really bad.”
You moved to the couch in the common room, as you began patching him up. You both finally introduced yourselves properly this time, and you talked for about an hour until the sun was starting to rise. When you realized how late it had gotten and how exhausted Bucky must’ve been, only then, you returned to your individual bedrooms. And thus, a friendship was born. The beginning of something eternal and profound.
The next morning, things changed. Bucky would act differently around you whenever the team was around. Or anyone, at all, was around. Bucky would often avoid your eyes and act awkwardly around you. You didn’t see the man that you had a warm conversation with at 4 in the morning on that first day anymore. You felt like talking to a stranger that you had to walk on eggshells with. When Steve asked Bucky whether he had met you or not during breakfast, Bucky with his head down simply responded, “yeah… We’ve met.” That elicited a furrowed brows from you.
Steve later counselled you about it, “don’t worry. He’s like that with everyone. It’s not easy to start a small talk when you are the former winter soldier.”
You tried to tell yourself not to overthink it or take it personally. Of course, you were aware of the history. It was told in every history class. But you still couldn’t shake the need to get to know him more. You’d do it deliberately, you weren’t going to force him to break out of his shell, but you wanted to let him know that he had nothing to be ashamed of with you.
And so, you would often knock on his bedroom door since your bedrooms were on the same floor when you brought something from your favourite bakery shop. Or when you hear the excruciating screams at night, because he couldn’t tame down the demons in his sleep, reminding him of his inevitable, vicious past that spilled a lot of blood and caused him a lot of pain. Mentally, emotionally and physically.
At first, he would give you a sardonic look as he asked you of why you were here. You’d tell him that you thought he could use a company and so, the friendship, or whatever that you had with him would bloom through the murmured secrets and the late-night rendevous. It turned into a nightly thing that only you and Bucky shared. Nobody else had to know.
During the day, there were a lot of stolen glances and lingering tension in the room, everyone could sense it except you and Bucky yourselves. But yet, you didn’t speak many words about it to each other. Everyone who saw you two knew that you two hid some amount of feelings for each other. But yet, neither of you dared to make the first move.
Sam, Wanda and Nat were your closest friends and therefore, they knew the most about your unspoken feelings for Bucky. Starting from the awkward chats to the time where this new agent shamelessly flirted with Bucky in front of you. Of course, you were aware that anyone could flirt with Bucky, he wasn’t yours, to begin with. But it was still rude and disrespectful and you being the irrational, jealous person that you were, you’d often ramble to either Sam, Wanda or Nat in their private quarters until you felt better again.
One night, where this agent, Samantha or whatever her name was, had boldly touched Bucky’s arm at one of Tony’s flamboyant parties, in front of you, you immediately texted Sam, Wanda and Nat in the group text called “Besties” to gather up in your room because you needed to vent.
“Look, y/n, if you’re so annoyed by her flirting, then why don’t you just tell Bucky how you feel?” Wanda said.
“I don’t understand…” You squinted your eyes at her. It’s not like you didn’t actually understand what she was saying, but the concept of confessing your feelings to Bucky sounded like an absurd idea.
“Look, I’m just saying, what’s the worse that could happen?”
“Okay, Wanda, now you’re just talking shit.”
“Y/N” Sam interposed. “He might like you too. He may not say much but we all caught those stolen glances, don’t you think we didn’t see it.”
“You don’t know that for sure, Sam. Besides, it’s not just about him not liking me back… What if he’s just not ready to date? What if he likes me but not in that way? There are a million things that could go wrong. So, please, let’s cross out the idea of telling him how I feel because it’s definitely not happening.”
Sam, Wanda and Nat exchanged a look. “Okay, it’s your life anyway. But y/n, if you don’t move now, then you might lose your chance forever. Samanta could be seducing him into her bed right now as you are rambling about her to us.” Natasha closed it.
Her words had truly struck you light lightning. You never thought of it that way… You always thought you had every second in the clock, just waiting for you to be ready. Or him to be ready. But you never thought of the possibility of Bucky and Samantha actually going on a date… What if she had asked him to go out with her next weekend? And what if he had said yes? The thought hurt. It crushed your heart like a shredder. It twisted you inside out like a sickness.
And so, after Sam, Nat and Wanda returned to the party, you stayed in your room. You told them that you’d catch up, you just needed to rest your feet from standing in heels for too long. You were lying. You needed some time alone with your thoughts, as you were trying to plan your next move. You recalled all those late-night rendevous and midnight conversations, and you felt it in your heart. That mighty urge in your heart. Like the entire crowd you were standing before are chanting the words loudly to you. “Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!”
You felt all the feelings you contained inside for him rushed through your veins, like a power surging through your cells, bestowing you the courage to stand on your feet, put on your heels and reapplied your lipstick. You straightened the frowns of your dress in front of the mirror as you took a deep breath. “You got this.” You stared your reflection dead in the eye and convinced yourself.
When you were satisfied with your fixed appearance, you immediately went back to the party. You couldn’t wait to find him. Giddiness, nervousness, and anxiety were swirling in your chest. You ordered Friday to take you to the lobby, where the party was held, as you leaned back on the glass wall of the elevator and you folded your arms around you, trying to ground yourself. You tried to stand steadily and not face-plant yourself on the marble floor in front of Bucky. You would never be able to live with yourself.
When the elevator finally reached the main lobby, the metal doors separated, showing you the people in fancy suits and dresses chattering with one another, with a glass of sparkling Champagne in their hands. You immediately searched for Bucky. A slick black, long dark hair, clad in a black dress shirt and black pants. Your eyes gazed into every corner of the room, focusing thoroughly on the large chunk of a man.
You finally spotted him by the bar. He was sitting with a glass of tonic and gin in his hand, as he took a sip of it, then he put it down on the bar counter. It would’ve been a tantalizing sight that you’d love to sit back and observe if it weren’t for the person sitting next to him. Samantha was sitting with her legs crossed beside him, her body was fully faced to Bucky as she tried to reach out to feel his bicep again for God knows how many times that night. She was laughing and even from the distance, you could see the glint in her eyes at something he just said.
You felt like you had been hit by a truck. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a monster that was devouring your insides with its tapered fangs. You felt dizzy as you felt like you were going to drop on the floor if you don’t hold onto something. Steve happened to be walking past you thankfully and as soon as he saw you looking unwell, he immediately grabbed your arm, awakening you from your daze.
“Y/N, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine, Steve... I’m…” You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself back into consciousness. “I think I need to lay down. I’ll see you in the morning, Steve. Please tell Tony that I’m not feeling well.”
“Alright, yeah, go ahead. I’ll inform the team if they ask about you.”
“Thanks, Steve.” You nearly stumbled on your feet as soon as you took your first step.
“Whoa, do you need me to walk you to your room?”
“No, it’s fine. I got it. Night, Steve.”
“Goodnight, y/n.” He watched you warily, feeling hesitant whether he should really let you walk to your floor alone or not. As soon as you went inside the elevator, and the mental doors had closed, you slumped on the wall as you tried to muffle your cries. Nothing could hurt you more than seeing the man that you were secretly in love with, flirting with another girl. You couldn’t find it in you to give directions to Friday. So you just stood there, listening to the Jazz music playing in the background.
Until you were finally wearied enough to say the word to Friday. The AI politely responded, “yes, miss.”
As soon as you reached your floor, you took off your heels as they swayed with every step that you took. Your cheeks were tainted by ruined mascara, and your hair was slightly dishevelled. You couldn’t care any less. You should be dancing to the slow music or even kissing him drunkenly at the bar with your hands wrapped around his neck right now. But no, he was probably doing those with Samantha. You knew you were being unreasonable, crying over a man who was never yours, to begin with. But you allowed yourself to feel the pain and then, you can figure out a way to move on. You just needed to unleash it all out first.
You put your heels in the corner of your bedroom and stripped yourself out of the white cocktail dress. You immediately ran for the shower, your limbs felt more ponderous than ever. The last time you experienced a broken heart was in eleventh grade when you ran into your senior crush, Peyton at the mall with a girl who didn’t go to the same school as you, in his arm. You nearly walked up to him to say hi but your plan was instantly crushed before you even found the courage to talk to him.
Ever since then, you made a pact with your heart that you were never going to fall in love first ever again. You were okay with being single, you weren’t the kind of person who constantly needs romantic love. You focused on self-growth, you focused on your skills which is martial arts and military tactics. You invested your mind and energy into self-love, friendship and your education.
When you were finally ready to roam around the city at night as a vigilante, you’d sneak off every night to sit building rooftops and you looked after the small guys around the neighbourhood. Until your small vigilante works were heard and Fury snuck into your apartment to recruit you himself.
After your shower, you changed into an oversized grey hoodie that you once stole from Bucky’s closet, one night while having one of those clandestine rendezvous in his room. You were cold and you were only wearing a thin-layered white shirt with a worn-out pair of old swimming shorts that still fitted you.
“Here, wear my hoodie.” He walked to his achromatic closet and revealed the tidily-placed pile of black and white shirts and pants. He didn't have that many clothes but, it was enough to secure his enormous figure cosily. He pulled out one of his fresh from the laundry sweatshirts from the heap. He handed them to you and inserted yourself into the aromatic material.
When you were both finally too somnolent to keep your eyes wide open. He walked you to your room and you didn’t realize you were still wearing his hoodie until you said your final goodnight. When you tried to take it off your body, he said, “no, it’s alright. You can return it to me in the morning.”
But you never did. And he was okay with that. At least you thought. Because never once he asked for it back. You’d even catch his demure smile when he saw you wearing it.
You did your nighttime skincare routine and went to bed. The scent of his hoodie was faint but enough to make you yearn for him. It’s ridiculous, really. To miss someone who was never yours, and someone who practically lived right next to you, considering how long he could spend hiding in his own room.
You felt the tears brimming in your eyes as they ran down your cheeks and soaked your pillow sheets. You sniffled as your mind harked back to the shared moments in the gloom and the timid touches when words could no longer bear the intimacy. The moon knows more about you and him than anyone ever will and if you could no longer feel his skin against your anymore even for just a second, you were going to hold onto the memories.
You were lost pacing down the memory lane until you heard a subtle knock on the door. Three taps and you instantly knew who was standing on the other side. You tried to neglect it, hoping that he would get the message of leaving you alone. You weren’t ready to face or talk to him. But he wouldn’t relent. He knocked once more, telling you that he wasn’t leaving until you answered him.
You stayed in the exact same spot until you were peevish enough to keep listening to it. You finally stood on your feet and opened the door with a sour look on your face. He greeted you with a nonchalant smile, his hair now was tied in a low bun.
“Hey, Steve told me that you weren’t feeling well, what happened?” His expression was filled with concern.
“I’m fine, now. You can go.” You sneered. You tried to shut the door, not even wanting to face him any longer or listen to his unprompted “I got a date!” story.
He was appalled by your anomalous behaviour, as he immediately stopped the door with his hand from being slammed on his face. “Hey, hold on a second. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I said, I’m fine, Bucky. Just leave me alone, please.”
His chest tightened at your sardonic words. You had never acted this way around him before. Did he say something wrong? Did he wake you at the wrong time? Were you on your cycle? He was bewildered.
“I just wanna know if you were alright. Steve said you looked really pale at the party and you had to leave early and if you are then maybe I could bring you a soup or something.”
“I just need to be alone, Bucky. Alright? I was feeling much better until you showed up.” You didn’t mean to be so spiteful and blunt. You just needed some space. And his presence was intoxicating and the longer you see him, the harder it would be for you to let go.
Bucky didn’t respond immediately but the look on his eyes was enough to beckon his hurt. “What did I do? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, Bucky, it’s not you, it’s just-” You inhaled. Trying to cool yourself down before you continued. “Just not tonight, alright?”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” He puffed himself up, masking his frustration. No, no, he wasn’t ready to let you go before he could even tell you he loved you. So if planting himself on his feet would make you enlighten him, he was going to do that.
“Okay, then just fucking stand there all night, I don’t care.” The cool in you vanished, turned into a small flame of counterwork.
“Why are you acting like this? Huh? You can’t just knock on my door whenever you feel like and shut me out like this.”
“Well, why don’t you just vent to your new girlfriend, then? I’m pretty sure she’ll be more than happy to listen to your ramblings all night.” You stormed into the room, trying to slam the door behind you but Bucky stopped it as he followed you inside. It wouldn’t be wise to keep this argument in the hall where the whole tower could hear you.
“What? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!”
“Oh, of course, Bucky. As if you hadn’t practically just gone on your first date with her at the party.”
“You’re being ridiculous, y/n! We were just talking.”
“Bullshit! Like no one could see the bedroom eyes she was giving you. She was practically fucking your brains out at the bar. Oh and not to mention, how she was groping your biceps like you were the only two people in the room!”
“What is this? Jealousy?”
“No! Stop flattering yourself, Bucky.”
“Okay, so what is it? I can’t fix whatever this is…” His fingers motioned to the invisible string binding the two of you. Who are you kidding? You both knew there was something more than a platonic bond between the two of you, you were just too dastardly to admit it with words to one another. “…If you don’t tell me the truth.”
Deep down, you knew the jealousy was senseless but in the heat of the dispute, you couldn’t stop your mouth from conveying the words out loud.
“Because I like you and I don’t want you to be with anyone but me, okay? There. I said it. Are you happy now? I like you and I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t like the thought of you being with someone who’s not me.”
Bucky was aghasted by your vehement declaration. Did he get it right? Did you really just tell him the words that he had always wanted to hear? The words that nearly escaped his lips more times than he could count, but never found the courage because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you? Was he dreaming? This felt surreal.
“You… You like me?”
You scoffed. “Yeah. I do, Bucky. Unfortunately. But now, I understand if you wanna go out with Samantha or if you never speak a word to me again, I get it. But at least you know that I li-”
He abruptly grabbed your face and pressed a brief kiss on your lips, taking your breath away like a typhoon. It was short-lived but enough to knock you off your feet. He retreated and gazed deeply into your eyes, hoping that you could see the suppressed emotions you made him feel whenever he was with you. He wasn’t a man of many words, after all, but after spending months of excavating each other’s secrecies, you got the message. Words were futile, anyway, when the feelings that you had were stronger than anything else you had ever felt.
“I like you too, y/n. So much.”
“You do?”
He nodded, a grin spread across his face, making his eyes gleam in the obscurity of your room.
“What about Samantha?”
“Sweetheart, I never had any feelings for her. She can flirt with me all she wants, but you gotta know that I only have eyes for you, darling. And there’s no one else I wanna be with other than you.”
“You mean that?” Your smile had made its way back to your face. The smile that only Bucky could evoke. Your eyes were twinkling with hope.
“Every word.”
And that’s you ended up here now, three years later, sharing a reposeful room with the love of your life. You had just returned from a late sparing session with Natasha in the training room. Crazy, how three years ago, you’d incessantly ramble about the same person and the same topic, which is Bucky’s cluelessness whilst running on the treadmill with her but now, you talked about various random things like two normal friends would. As if the issue that you had with Bucky had been resolved. All’s well that ends well.
You spotted your boyfriend, who had a much shorter hair now, sitting contently on the bed with a Sci-Fi novel in his hands. His long fingers sophisticatedly enveloped the cover as he thoroughly focused on the words on the pages but, it was quickly disrupted when you walked into the room, greeting him with a smile. “Hey, baby. What are you reading?”
“This sci-fi novel that Sam got me for my birthday but I didn’t pick it up until now. How was the training, sweetheart?”
“The usual. Nat, being the competitive little shit that she is, kicked my ass but I got her back at least. Twice.” You had showered in the gym bathroom before you went upstairs to see your boyfriend so you didn’t have to bother concealing your musty scent due to the sweat.
“That’s my girl.” He got on his feet and walked towards you, as he looked at you with so much admiration and love in his eyes, it overwhelms you sometimes. The way he’d hold you whilst being starstruck by every feature on your face, and the way he’d tell you he loved you, with so many sincerity behind the words, even after three years of being together. You were lucky. You both were. To find a home within each other.  
He kissed you deeply like he hadn’t had the pleasure to see you in three months even if you had only been gone for an hour. His lips enthralled you every time and he wouldn’t mind giving you the solace as much as you desired. He needed it more from you, anyway.
When your lips were apart, he pressed his forehead to yours. The vague light from the table lamp beside your bed illuminated the room along with the dimmed city lights, casting a dainty glow on the two of you. Like a spotlight on a stage, and you were the star-crossed lovers of the tale, illustrating a true story of unbreakable love.
“Dance with me.” Bucky said.
“Well, then, I shall put on the perfect song, sir.”
You ordered Friday to play the song “Lover” by Taylor Swift, as the first hits of the drum immediately moved your bodies against each other, his hand seized yours as you tucked your head under his chin. His other arm wrapped itself around your waist, holding you as close as possible like it was your last dance. But certainly not. This was merely one in a thousand dances to come.
We could leave the Christmas lights, up ‘till January
This is our place, we make the rules
You swayed to the nostalgic song playing in the background, echoing the words of love all around the room. Like you were the only lovers on the grand dancefloor, as the singer harmonises only for you.
And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
You leaned your head on his chest, his slow heartbeat thumps in your ear. The beat grounds you like gravity, reminding you of how the term ‘home’ isn’t only a structure with four walls and a ceiling, but rather, a figure with serum-injected blood coursing through his veins, an injured skin layering all the organs, fashioning one magnetic force of a man.
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Forever and ever
His gentle hand rubbed your back, as his feet swung with the tune. He was a man out of his time. Despite being alive in the modern world long enough now, he was still taking baby steps in adapting to the culture and that includes music. Back then, this wasn’t exactly the kind of music he’d ask a girl to dance along to, but he learned to appreciate your musical preference and slowly, he grew fond of them too.
And ah, take me out and take me home
You’re my, my, my, my lover
Because the lyrics had truly hit close to home. If someone had delivered him a mail during his Winter Soldier years, that he was going to find a beautiful, loving woman who willingly took his hand; scars and all. Despite the demons in his mind and the ghosts in his past, she was going to love him faithfully and she would offer her own hand to guide him through the path of daylight… He’d laugh on their faces and told them to piss off because they were wasting his time by speaking baloney.
We could let our friends crash in the living room
This is our place, we make the call
But he was wrong. You walked into his life and gratefully punched his face on that night and he will forever thank the lucky stars for that. Because what he didn’t have a single clue of was that, it was the beginning of something tangible and something that became his religion. Something that became his lifeline. Despite still dealing with his own demons that he wasn’t sure whether they will ever truly leave him or not, he was a happy man. He didn’t think it was possible to say that. He was a happy man, in love. And it sounds strange to accept that as the truth but, it was what it was.
And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all
He twirled you around gently. Careful not to trip you. He caught you in his arms as you bent your body with peremptory trust, his handsome face never failed to mesmerize you.
Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?
With every guitar string scar on my hand
I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover
You swayed on your feet once more, but really, you were just spending time, embracing the security in each other’s arms. You don’t care about the past heartbreaks or the haunting memories. You are not even stressing out to think about what tomorrow promises, you simply wanted to live every second of this moment with him.
My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue
All's well that ends well to end up with you
Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my lover 
But whatever the future plans for you, you knew there would be no hurricane violent enough to shake your ground as long as you had Bucky by your side.
And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me
And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover
You were going to hold onto him through the agonizing mornings or vicious nights. You were going to hold onto him through Spring until the first drop of snow starts to cover the ground in white again. You were going to hold onto him through the Christmas Eves and New Years. Whether it be when you’re sharing a midnight kiss or when you’re hungover for all the drinks from last night.
You took a vow that no matter what happened, there would be no more unspoken words that would be an emotional barrier between the two of you. You only wanted to have eyes for him because everything fades into the background and the stars align when your bodies were intertwined, unable to tell where you began and he ended.
You’re permanently stuck with each other and that’s all you ever really wanted.
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cordeliaflyte · 3 years
Note
Would love to know your thoughts on the rutger bregman book when you finish it!!!
dearest merle! it took me months to answer this ask - something i'm ashamed of - but i finally got around to finishing the book today.
the below is a condensed version of the ten pages of notes i took while reading it, which are rather chaotic and repetitive at points - but in my defence, bregman repeated his own arguments too.
one of the main arguments that bregman makes is that "evil" or "immorality" - which we'll define as causing unnecessary harm - are rarely caused by the individual, but rather the society they live in. i agree - nothing exists in a vacuum. however, society, as a nebulous concept, isn't imposed on us by some imperceptible power - it is crafted by people. people in society have different levels of power, and the harm they can cause to others is directly proportional to said power - but be it on a micro or macro scale, our actions have an impact on others and while they are influenced by the society we live in, we must nonetheless strive to minimise the harm we cause - and few of us do.
bregman illustrates many of his arguments with heartwarming stories about people coming together in times of crisis - take, for example, natural disasters - and overcoming adversity, selflessly looking out for their neighbours. but crisis very often leads to the creation of divisions, an us vs them mentality, and a complete disregard for the safety of others. the current pandemic is a prime example - see the widening of class differences, the rise in racist hate crimes, and people refusing to take safety precautions because they are inconvenient to them.
another argument repeated quite often throughout the book is the fact that media cherry-picks the most sensationalistic and senseless acts of death and despair, because human suffering is simply more interesting that the mundane - people talking to friends, creating art, laughing and learning. again, i agree with him - many of the more tabloid-adjacent news outlets would have you believe that the everyday norm is dismembered heiresses being found on riverbeds and charming, precocious children being held for ransom in tiny basements. the news doesn't often focus on the mundane - but the mundane isn't just love and work and friendship and boredom and chores, it is also, for billions of people around the world, sexual violence, familial abuse, workplace and housing discrimination, etc. these things aren't sensationalistic either - they're frightfully common, frightfully boring, and thus, they're rarely reported on.
throughout his book, bregman mentions that when he told people what he was working on, they approached the idea that humans are good with a large dose of cynicism, simply because we are raised to believe humans are selfish (which isn't the case worldwide, not all cultures are individualistic). they pick the easier choice - accepting the image of the world and their fellow humans that they are presented with at face value. i'd argue that it is the tendency of humans to pick the easier choice, to obey, to avoid challenging their worldview that leads to - for a lack of better term - immorality (see definition in point 1).
often, when bregman presents his feel good stories about people cooperating in adversity, he also mentions troubling details that, again, show undue harm being done. one of the examples he used were six boys from tonga, aged 13 to 16, who were shipwrecked on an island, and instead of descending into a "lord of the flies" style madness, they built their small community on the basis of communication and cooperation, never resorting to violence, and acting mature beyond their years. after a year spent on the island, they were rescued - and promptly arrested, an event which was probably racially motivated. and the reason they were shipwrecked in the first place was attempting to flee their school, where, according to their reports, they were neglected.
bregman contrasted the example of the boys forming a peaceful society on a small island with the chaos that always ensues when adults in reality shows are put in similar situations. the contestants are pitted against each other by the show runners, who seek to frustrate them and make them lose control for the amusement of the audience. whenever contestants try to cooperate, form a mutually beneficial society for a short while - a radical idea - they are punished. "goodness" - i.e. harm reduction - and radical thought being punished just don't seem like particularly helpful examples for the "humans are inherently good" thesis
bregman seems to be a big fan of primitivism, constantly citing civilisation as a source of harm - a position i'm always sceptical about, because personally i love vaccines and dental care, but i know this is a knee-jerk reaction and bregman isn't plotting a return to a land without dentists. but what i do take ire at is the idea that humans are somehow "corrupt" versions of their natural selves and that our lives have grown too complicated, and only a return to "primitive" society can return us to the aforementioned natural selves.
tied to the previous point - his arguments remind me of the "noble savage"'... archetype? he seems to paint a picture of "primitive" indigenous people as role models for those "corrupted" by civilisation, who in turn must be saved by a return to their "purer" selves, instead of individuals with flaws and agency.
speaking on indigenous populations - bregman also invokes the inhabitants of the easter islands. for a long time, the world at large believed that a hundred years or so before colonization, the islanders effectively perpetrated a genocide, killing off a large proportion of their population - a claim which was later disproven. yay! humans can live in peaceful societies without committing genocide, and thus, are not inherently evil! disregarding the fact that european colonists later massacred a large part of the islands population, and sold most of the survivors into slavery?
i was very excited for one of the chapters, entitled "after auchschwitz". i was interested how bregman would reconcile his argument with the tragedies of the twentieth century - the holocaust, but also genocide, and to a lesser extent war in general.
(this chapter, i might add, was preceded by a quote by anne frank - you know the one, about the inherent goodness of people. i was hoping that bregman would comment on the fact that anne wrote the quote before she and her family were sent to a concentration camp)
so you can imagine my surprise when the chapter was not, in fact, about concentration camps or genocide. but rather about. unethical 70s sociological experiments.
no really! a chapter titled "after auchschwitz" was, in fact, primarily about the stanford prison experiment. an experiment that was, granted, inspired by concentration camps, but still. it's misleading to invoke "real", large scale violence, and focus instead on "simulated", small scale violence.
we all know that the stanford prison experiment was, as far as experiments go, rubbish to legendary degrees. it doesn't prove anything - but it does, perhaps, show that people under large psychological duress are capable of evil, even when they themselves are not "evil".
it is, i'd argue, the human tendency to obey authority and especially to conform to societies standards that poses the largest danger. disobedience is man's original virtue and whatnot.
and when he does briefly refer to concentration camps, bregman treats them like a very 1940s phenomenon, disregarding the fact that they have been around for much longer and still exist today.
in cases like that one experiment with electric shocks. you know the one. do not, perhaps, show an innate tendency to violence, but rather people succumbing to pressure. but history is full of unprovoked instances of violence, of pogroms and lynchings. there is usually an instigator, yes, but judging from reports, people in the right mindset don't need much persuading to butcher other people.
also re: electric shock experiment - those who thought they gave the assistant lethal shocks showed extreme guilt and some even cried but like... so what? what use is a conscience if it doesn't stop you from, to your knowledge, killing someone? are your feelings really more important than your actions?
he doesn't say this, but a lot of the arguments he presents do seem to boil down to "people aren't evil, they're just stupid!" which doesn't sound more encouraging, i'm afraid.
an alternative takeaway would be "people are good, unless they have power" - which isn't exactly a radical, revolutionary idea. most people have heard the maxim "power corrupts". but the thing is that almost everyone holds some amount power over others - the oppressed factory worker in a poor nation who works 12 hours a day for pittance might still execute power over his wife, who relies on him for money, and she in turn might hold power over her children, and so forth. and that power is often used to cause undue harm and exercise control.
he criticises machiavellianism, saying it doesn't reflect how society works, and one of his proofs is that his philosophies were espoused by bismarck, churchill, and stalin - hardly admirable figures in terms of (you guessed it!) causing harm. but i don't see how that discredits machiavelli? like all of the above were very succesful
and he keeps repeating the primitivism argument throughout the book which gets tiring. like i'm truly sorry you were born in the last 5% of human existence thus far when, in your opinion, humanity started going to the shits, but it's getting a bit tiring
he cites money and nations as concepts as harbingers of the current (negative) state of humanity, saying they're very recent concepts and have no basis in reality. they're artificial concepts, sure, but their effect is very much real, and while achieving a nation-less, money-less society is possible on a small scale, i think that at this point they are such large aspects of life that reigning them in seems impossible.
and invokes the noble savage again and again, showing himself in favour of tribal societies, depicting them as egalitarian - i'm sure many of them are, but many also have a strict hierarchy or like. practice fgm. once more he seems to treat tribal people as a monolith of goodness as opposed to... people.
he also cites prehistoric people, their egalitarianism and low rates of violence but. forgive me for my ignorance because i did not research this. how do people know. doesn't the definition of prehistory include a lack of records??
he also mentions that in small, tribal societies, conformism can be a good thing, as it makes people act for the communal good. this is another knee-jerk reaction of mine but i think of conformism as society's most significant vice, so this strikes very much against my beliefs
later on, he also says reproduction is another proof of humanities goodness. perhaps it's a controversial opinion, but i disagree. i find it hard to find reasons for reproduction that aren't egoistic. it's survival instinct, sure, but it's not an "inherently noble pursuit".
later yet, he brings up schools which grant large degrees of freedom to students and shows how they're good for developing their minds. this might be a me thing but i know from experience that when i'm granted freedom without structure, i do nothing - though perhaps that speaks ill of me, and not humanity.
there have, in fact, been many studies on schools like this being helpful to student development and i certainly won't argue with them - but let me nit-pick. bregman says that fewer students have adhd in these schools, as it is a condition caused by being locked inside a room all day which is not only offensive, but also just plain wrong
and also while showing how granting children freedom lets them develop (which i naturally agree with) he brings up that "dangerous playground" study. you know the one. this isn't a coherent argument, this is just my bias speaking , but as a child, i promise i had no desire to play with rusty nails in abandoned warehouses. i liked my boring playgrounds with wooden swings.
then there is a chapter on communism and how it could be a remedy to societies ailments. but bregman and i seem to operate on very different definitions of communism. he naturally starts with saying maoist china and stalinist russia and cambodia under pol pot weren't really communist which... sure, if you want to argue semantics, i'm all for it, but it's an old and essentially useless argument. if "real communism" has never been tried (as the author claims) - why?
and then we pass to perhaps the most bizarre fragment of the book. paraphrasing only slightly: "but why are we now so opposed to the word communism? when we pass each other salt at the dinner table, is that not communism? when we selflessly hold a door open for someone, is that not communism?" i.... no?? no it's not. that's not what communism is girl stop
he then also says facebook is actually communist in many ways since a lot of its value comes from photos people willingly share for free. i could not make this up if i tried.
i think that in most terms i agree with bregman on policy - direct democracy, school and prison systems, changes to the criminal justice system - and our reasoning is partially similar, but i don't think the information we both have access to proves that humans are inherently good.
and then come perhaps my least favourite arguments because i for one am a spiteful bitch but yes. it is time for christian ethics 101 and turning the other cheek.
he cites ghandi and mlk as examples of turning the other cheek working. i think ghandi went too far with his policy, what with saying "jews ought to have marched silently to their deaths or committed mass suicide to make nazis feel ashamed" and like. we do remember they killed mlk, right?
as an example of turning the other cheek, he cites humane prisons in norway, where prisoners are granted much larger freedoms than usual and are on equal footing with the guards, who aren't armed and act more as councillors. i don't really see how this is an example of turning the other cheek, though - the guards are not the victims of the inmates (it was a prison for violent offenders - many of them murderers). i agree with him that prisons, if they must exist, should treat inmates humanely and with respect, but i don't see how this relates to the turning of the cheek. statistically, many of these men probably murdered their mates in a drunken dispute, or killed their wives - and i don't think turning the other cheek would have helped their victims.
he also cites south africa in the sixties as an example of turning the other cheek, when anti-apartheid activists would meet up with pro-apartheid activists and talk - this included nelson mandela who had frequent talks with the leader of a white supremacist paramilitary organisation of afrikaners staunchly opposed to black south africans getting the vote. and it worked - the man, whose aim was starting a civil war, relented. but racism isn't a simple matter that can simply be solved by talking. and it is often a pragmatic policy which i don't disparage, but turning the other cheek and having to treat someone who refuses to acknowledge your humanity with an exorbitantly disproportionate amount of respect is inherently degrading.
skipping ahead, in the epilogue bregman lists ten rules he tries to live by, and one of them is, i shit you not, "don't punch nazis". and punching nazis doesn't stop them from being nazis, but turning the other cheek gets people killed
the rise of fascism is perhaps one the largest threats we are dealing with and fascists are not just isolated and misinformed (and in this day and age, ignorance is a choice). they are dangerous.
this is by no means an essay or an exhaustive list, just a slightly chaotic and much overdue collection of opinions which i don't know how to put under a read more. take care <3
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swtorpadawan · 3 years
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20. alone, finally (micro story prompt)?
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Author’s Notes: Warnings for sexual content. This story takes place sometime in the future - sort of a flash-forward. Taken from the “Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase” Tumblr prompt, ‘alone finally’. Thank you, @raven-of-domain-kwaad ! Sorry I couldn’t keep it “micro”. )
I’ve finally done it. Kira Carsen thought to herself.
The red-headed not-quite-a-Jedi-anymore was lying face-down on her beach towel, basking in the sun’s rays. She could hear the waves of the ocean crashing peacefully nearby, a pleasant reminder of her tropical environment. Her sun-goggles offered protection for her eyes her deep blues tinted green from the lenses when she bothered to open them. Her bikini had been discarded onto the beach towel next to hers, so confident was she that she was one of just two sentient beings on this planet at the moment, and it freed her from any concerns about avoiding any tan marks against her fair skin.
I’ve finally learned the trick of how to relax by doing absolutely nothing. Her lips smirked, pleased with herself.
Of course, she’d had some… encouragement to get to this point. A certain fatigue had set in, and her body was a bit worn out. After all, yesterday had been a very busy day for her. And then she’d been busy again last night. And then once again this morning before she’d started sunbathing. Twice, in fact.    
Kira had found this world in the Unknown Regions years ago, back when she’d been running with an anti-Zakuulan resistance movement. She’d been surveying planets for potential base locations from where she and her comrades could strike at the Eternal Empire. She’d ultimately rejected this world as a candidate, as there was absolutely no infrastructure to speak of. It was also too remote; the rebels had wanted to operate in hiding, but still with the capability of striking at Zakuul’s supply lines through accessible hyperspace lanes.
But she’d never forgotten this planet. Or its magnificent beaches, and lack of any hostile fauna. It was beautiful. A paradise. Its like Rishi, but without the pirates, the Revanites and the bird people, she observed.
And now, years later, her long-held secret had paid off.
I’ve found a planet where nothing will try to kill us. She pursed her lips in contemplation. Where we can finally be alone together. At last.
She’d have to pick a name for this planet, Kira considered. And a name for this island. And a name for this beach. If she really were the discoverer of this world, then doing all that should be her responsibility.
Just not today. She had more important things to do at the moment.
Kira honestly intended to get up at some point from her sunbathing and to do something exciting. Maybe she’d bust out their hoverbikes from the cargo bay so they could use them as jet skis. Or maybe she’d follow through on her plan to turn those spare bulkhead panels from the ship into surfboards. She’d never actually been surfing, but it certainly looked exciting on the holos she’d seen. Or heck – maybe the two of them could just spar on the beach with their lightsabers. That could be fun, especially if they waited for the moonlight in the evening. That certainly fit Kira’s idea of a romantic night.
These are all good plans. She thought proudly to herself, as her head lay contentedly down on her crossed arms.
She felt him approach her through the Force because of course she did. After these last two days, she doubted either of them would ever lose track of the other again, carbonite prisons be damned.
“You’re going to get sunburned.” He gently chided her.
Groggily, she let out a sigh then lifted her head from her arms to look up at Corellan Halcyon.
The man who had once been called the Hero of Tython, the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and the Outlander was looking down at her with a bemused expression. Water dripped down from his wet hair and body as he glistened in the sun; he’d been swimming in the ocean for nearly two hours, almost as long as Kira had been laying out in the sun. She watched fascinated as a particular drop of water rolled down the muscles of his broad chest and abdomen down towards his swimming trunks, causing Kira to lick her lips.  
As much as she enjoyed checking him out when his body was glistening like this, she inevitably felt her eyes drawn down to the fourth finger of his left hand.
The band around the finger was ornate, etched with tiny engravings invoking Tython and Odessen, along with the word ‘Eternal’. The metal itself was fairly non-descript; a careful examination by a metallurgist would have revealed that it was actually composed of an alloy of natural materials from several worlds, none of those metals being regarded as particularly precious among the various jewelers of the galaxy.
That wasn’t important to Kira. What mattered to her was what the ring represented.
It meant that Corellan Halcyon was hers, and hers alone.
She absent-mindedly fiddled with the diamond ring wrapped around her own finger with her thumb as she smirked up at him.
“Well, you did quite an impressive job rubbing me down with sunscreen earlier.” She mused, her head tilting towards his towel where the bottle of Alderaanian nectar-scented lotion lay beside her bikini and their lightsabers. Playfully, Kira wiggled her oiled butt up at him. “I feel safe enough from the sun, tough guy.”
Corellan Halcyon’s eyebrows bopped up as it was his turn to admire Kira’s body. He let out a slow exhale as he crouched down beside her… only to find himself ambushed as Kira’s hand reached out and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him towards her for a long, passionate kiss.      
There was no crisis to worry about. The Eternal Alliance back on Odessen would keep the galaxy safe without their famed ‘Alliance Commander’ for a few more days at least. At Kira’s insistence, Teeseven was the only one who knew how to reach them, and it would probably take the Emperor himself returning from the abyss to compel the droid to contact them.
Corellan’s body grew rigid at the contact for only a fraction of a second before he melted into the kiss, wrapping an arm around her. She felt a brief tinge of guilt for startling him like that; she’d chosen this planet not just because it was beautiful, not just because they could be alone, but because Corellan – who had seen enough fighting over the course of his adulthood for twenty lifetimes – had once told her that he had never been to a world where he hadn’t used lethal force to defend himself or others. She knew how much that had worn on him and wanted him to feel like he had seen at least one planet where he hadn’t been forced to kill anything or anyone.
A planet where he could just be… him.
But as she felt his body and his soul start to respond to her touch and his strong arms tightened around her, she knew she’d made the right choice. Here, on this beautiful, unnamed world in the unknown regions, the only thing ambushing him would be her.  
Wasn’t stuff like this what honeymoons were all about? Kira smirked as the kiss finally broke. She playfully pushed him onto his own towel.  
“Here.” She grinned, turning herself onto her back and tucking her arms beneath her head to leave herself completely open. Corellan was practically gawking at her now, eyes widened, unable to look away and looking like he was quite out of breath. She was charmed by his reaction: The two had made love hundreds of times, but he still looked at her like it was his first time seeing her this way.
“I think you might have missed a few spots when you oiled me up this morning.” Kira teased, noting that she’d still been wearing her bikini at the time. “You can make that up to me now, I think.”
Dutifully, attentively, eagerly even, Corellan reached for the bottle, applying ample amounts of the lotion to his hands.
“Yes, my lady.” He answered gallantly, returning her grin.
Kira let out a sigh and closed her eyes as he set to work, lavishing attention on her with the same dedication with which he did everything else in life.
Corellan Halcyon didn’t do anything by half-measures she’d learned long ago. Even relaxed, at ease and happy, this was who he was.
This was the man she had married two days ago.
She felt her legs parting as his skilled and oiled fingers teased her, then gasped as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss just below her naval. Then another gasp escaped her lips as he kissed just a bit lower, still…
Kira sat up suddenly, reaching out and grabbing at his shoulder and gripping him a bit harder than she’d intended. He paused in his ministrations of her body, looking up at her questioningly.
“Know what, tough guy? It’s your honeymoon. You’re over-dressed.” She smirked as she glanced down at his shorts. “Lose those.”  
As Corellan smiled and moved to comply with her command, Kira laid back and watched contentedly.  
Relaxing by doing absolutely nothing is overrated. she thought to herself.
Kira never did get around to learning to surf that day.
She couldn’t complain.
Author’s Notes : I’ll do the wedding story at some point. Honestly, though, it’s a huge thing.
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big-chicken-man · 3 years
Note
Well, this is nothing new. One very small hen, one very tall rooster, and a cable she needs held in the air far above where she could possibly reach. Gamdra is very clearly sizing him up at this point; she's not even remotely afraid of him, after all. "You know me well enough to know that if you don't hand me that, I will scale you to get it."
To Steelbeak, it isn’t about sparking fear in Gandra, oh no. Nor is such a display a test of his own prowess or her spirit. The rooster is being a bully, enjoying her reactions and waiting to witness her next moves. Whether Gandra’s vocalized mission is a threat or promise, Steelbeak takes a long pace backwards with a cheshire grin to taunt the hen.
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“Gee, Gandra, normally I’d be scared, but today, Steel Mountain ain’t open for climbin’. I guess you’ll just have to go find a spare, eheh heh heh!”
It’s always petty with him, always stealing tiny things that amount to nothing more than minor inconvenience in the end. Steelbeak has proven himself to be among the most lethal agents and mobsters of them all, and here he is, exercising his abilities in a manner so similar to that of an older brother. 
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soft-glitch · 3 years
Text
Where the breeze leads us
Chapter 2: Robotic presence
Word count: about 850 words
Author’s notes: this is a series of tiny one-shots taking place in the Sonic future AU described in my fic How You Look In The Wind. You might want to read a bit of it first! There might not be a strict chronology to these events, so some of them are up to interpretation. Enjoy the read!
- - - - -
“So… he’s living with you now?”
Tails’ tone was loaded with concern, and Cream perfectly understood. The situation was quite peculiar indeed.
Cream let out a short huff and got up from the carpet, putting the movie on pause. Of course Omega would do some mess, but it wasn’t that bad. And he was extremely nice with everyone at home.
“Yes, they left him yesterday.” the rabbit confirmed. ”There is some getting used to it but everything will be fine!”
Just as she spoke a large noise resonated throughout the house, startling both youngsters.
“...are you sure?” the fox asked with a frown.
Well.
She just didn’t take into account the robot’s fascination for knives. And the fact he said he wanted to help in the kitchen. And his clumsiness in small spaces.
The kitchen’s floor was littered with utensils discarded to provide additional space. A pile of larger knives —some of them one could argue were probably actual swords— was scattered on the central table. Cream jumped in to stop Cheese from playing with a particularly shiny one.
“Is that...” the rabbit couldn’t finish her sentence as a victory theme from a famous video game came out of Omega’s body.
“I have successfully transferred over 82% of my personal collection to the kitchen drawers.” he said, pointing to one that was almost overflowing with blades.
“I see Cheese has good taste. His weapon of choice is a hybrid combat blade with carbon mixed reinforcing. Cheese lethality status upgraded to 3.78.”
While Cream was trying to explain to the Chao why playing with weapons was not advisable Tails walked in cautiously, a mix of worry and amusement in the eyes.
“Hey so uh, Omega… Do you know why Rouge and Shadow decided you would live with Vanilla and Cream?” he asked, eyeing the mess in the room.
“I am the one who emitted this request.” the metallic being replied. “They will be working in separate areas for a considerable amount of time. I was not considered fit to participate in either missions by the G.U.N departments. My duties are halted so I decided to spend time with Ms Vanilla and the small Chao beings.”
Cream raised a brow and turned towards the robot.
“And what about me?”
Tails started slowly walking backwards towards his friend’s room. He did not feel like handling the robot’s antics today.
A laugh track played. Omega raised a thumb and turned his head to Cream.
“You also are among the organic friends I like to hang out with. My omission was for comedic purposes.”
- - - - -
“Please stop trying to climb into my reactor exhaust port.”
That was the fifth time Blueberry was attempting to put their head into Omega, and Cream could tell he was getting annoyed.
Cream smiled. Just like in some fun memories from years ago, Omega could be surprisingly caring and gentle when he wanted to.
Or so she thought. The robot gently grabbed the Chao and opened a compartment on his chest, tucking them inside safely.
“This will be a more comfortable place for you, small one.”
Blueberry chirped happily, their emotion-dot turning into a little heart.
As if to confirm her thoughts, several other Chao started flocking from around the garden. Some poked at the robot’s appendages before sitting next to him, playing with the nearby flowers. Others climbed on him and settled on his shoulders or his head, swaying slowly in rhythm and waving at each other.
The former badnik seemed content with this sudden invasion. He started asking Cream about the name of each of his little visitors, logging the information preciously and attributing seemingly random “lethality statuses” to everyone.
Cheese was the only one staying away, their emotion-dot displaying some kind of curiosity.
“What’s wrong?” Cream whispered to them.
The Chao floated in circles and gestured to the rabbit. A smile appeared on her face as she understood the request.
“Hey Omega?” she laid down in the grass and pointed to the robot’s chest. “How did you play these… funny sounds, earlier?
– I am equipped with a central speaker that allows me to use vocal expression and sound effects. My impeccable taste for comedic intervention is an additional module of my programming.” the robot’s voice explained, almost tinted with pride.
As some Bad Company started echoing throughout the garden, Cheese and other Chao started jumping and flying around the Team Dark member who moved his shoulders to the rhythm of the song. Cream chuckled and closed her eyes to take in all the notes and vocals.
“Do you think you could play some old hard rock?”
Omega stopped moving completely for a moment before answering.
“Found Shadow’s playlist. Title: The Good Shit To Vibe To. Playing now.”
There would definitely be some adjustments to make and rules to put in place but… Having Omega around would definitely put some fun at home.
- - - - -
“Hold on, I will call you later. Seems we’re having a knife problem.”
“Yes, yes, I just got back home. Today was quite tiresome. I went to buy some fertiliser at GreenFields and...”
Vanilla squinted as she walked in front of the kitchen’s window and stopped for a second, tapping her finger on the phone.
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monchikyun · 3 years
Text
III. coffee and cigarettes
Nothing good lasts forever and so even Connor’s short vacation comes to an early end, making him wish he had an excuse to take some more. He has plenty left too, never really having the need to spend more than what’s mandatory. The prospect of keeping himself a sole company for very long doesn’t much appeal to him. Too afraid of the brain rot that would make a space for his internalised guilt to fully manifest. 
There is never anything to do but to waste his free day away talking to his four-legged friend who doesn’t seem to even enjoy their one-sided conversations. He could busy himself with countless tasks but what’s the point when no one’s here to witness it. 
Sometimes he gets to hang out with his friends, rarely he’s ever lucky enough to pass the time with the one person who can make him smile, who can make him realise that there is more to him than the hurt corroding his insides. It happened only once, actually. 
Somehow he persuaded Gavin to join him for their walk to a dog park, though it wasn’t all that impressive of a feat. He likes to replay that day sometimes, a great way to fill the void in his mind that comes to visit whenever he has problems initiate sleep-mode. It was back in October, the sky was an ethereal shade of blue and the trees turned into a display of a non-lethal fire-show. All the reds and oranges towering over them and shedding pieces of their transcendent beauty on the ground for them to to do with as they please. He stole one. An oddly-shaped maple leaf hidden between pages of the book he won’t ever read. Of course, he gave one, too. And that was when he first fell something shift inside of his heart. The first time he ever wanted to kiss someone.
---
“Hey, tin can.”
“Good morning to you too, detective.”
The titles they call each other have lost their initial meaning and morphed into something that provides familiar comfort. Nicknames, perhaps.
Connor smiles with his eyes, not daring to show something more lest it gets misinterpreted by the wrong people. Because he has no right to be happy, least here of all places.
He scans the empty desk that used to be Hank’s work-space. Still empty. Several personal items belonging to a stranger, hair that isn’t Sumo’s but came out of some other dog. There is nothing left of his old friend anymore. Devoid of anything that matters to him.
Gavin watches his line of sight, he’s painfully aware of that. Their desks are stuck to each other now since they share all of their cases and therefore it’s convenient to be this close. It’s convenient to psyche. He’s glad he doesn’t have to face his failures on daily basis like that, now that detective Reed keeps him almost constant company. Maybe he should tell him how grateful he is,… someday.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
There is a fresh coffee on his desk, one that Gavin hasn’t made for himself. A ritual that keeps repeating every work-day. He only asked the one time, back when he still couldn’t stand Connor and all the other plastics, yet he got nothing but some preprogrammed phrase then. Thinking about it now, maybe he shouldn’t have punched the android. His fist ached like a bitch and knowing Connor, he probably received zero damage from that feeble attack. God, he hated him at that time. Hated that there was no life hiding behind that pretty face and that he was powerless to do anything about it. He didn’t believe that androids had the potential to become something more than glorified computers, let alone human. It was Connor who showed him that being alive isn’t defined by the components or material one is made out of. It’s what one does that counts. The behaviours reserved only for those possessing free will. 
It took him a month to be fully convinced that Connor just might be more of a full-fledged person than Gavin could ever be. Three more and he fell flat in the dark pit of no return. 
It isn’t that loving Connor is an inconvenience or something he could live without, but he’d rather had his teeth pulled out one by one than to go another day knowing that his feelings will never be returned. That it will always be his fault for being such an unlovable bastard.
Drinking the pleasantly scalding coffee helps a little. It reminds him that Connor cares, to some extent. The fact that he takes the time of his day just so Gavin can have his daily dose of caffeine without having to lift a finger warms him through and through. It plants a tiny seed of hope to his heart.
He never asks but he always thanks him. Words of gratitude whispered underneath his breath, comprehensible only to the person who deserves to hear them.
Usually, he’d take the cup outside to compliment his morning smoke, but Connor is sitting in his chair a little too stiffly, his eyes wandering off somewhere distant. Not even his gratitude got acknowledged today. He gets like that more often that Gavin would like. Reversing back to his old self, to a time when human-like expressions were still foreign to him. It breaks his heart a little every time he gets reminded that nothing will be able to undo the damage done, that Connor will bear his trauma forever, …possibly. Gavin would always stay quiet, not finding the right things to say or do. Not today.
“I’m gonna go outside… to take a… breath.”
He isn’t sure Connor even registers his words.
“You… wanna go with?”
Still nothing.
“Connor.”
He stands up and gets as close as possible without trespassing the unspoken borders between them.
“Come with me, please.”
Their eyes meet for a split second and before he can catch up to the present moment they are already halfway out of the door.
Maybe he should use the magic word more often.
---
A blissful smoke fills his lungs, clouding over the pain and uncertainty that put him here in the first place. He relies on this wonderfully horrible sensation too much, but it’s better than the alternative.
“Liar.”
Yeah, he isn’t going to win any honesty awards in the near future, that’s for sure. But at least Connor is back to his old irreplaceable self, or he acts like he is.
There is a day old snow piled on the grassy patch beside the wall, reminding him of the photo Connor sent him yesterday. Of the tears and the desperation. How he wanted nothing but to be held by his friend. And now, when they’re so just inches apart, he’s too afraid to even look at him. He couldn’t just casually hug him without it meaning anything, because to Gavin, it would be worth everything. And if he lost that again,… no amount of nicotine would ever be enough to put him back together.  
“Must suck not having an unhealthy coping habit to solve all your problems.”
He can’t even begin to imagine what Connor must be going through.
“I wish you wouldn’t...” His cigarette gets forcibly removed from his mouth, the implications of which don’t translate to his ape brain right away, so his jaw is stuck to the ground while he watches Connor study the stolen smoke like it’s something he’s never seen before. “… have one.”
“Give it back.” He tries to get it back with his grabby fingers but Connor stops him by doing something even more unexpected.
He puts the whole cigarette in his mouth and makes some weird movements with his jaw. And just like that, the tube disappears.
The freaky bitch must have swallowed it whole.
He blinks rapidly to clear the brain fog suddenly threatening to limit his intelligence.
“What.”
Connor is towering in front of him without Gavin having any say about this scary development. His soft hands are holding Gavin by the shoulders like he wants to shake the soul of him, and maybe he does, because he looks him dead in the eye and quietly says:
“I don’t ever want to lose my unhealthy coping mechanism.”  
Connor’s fingers are boring into his jacket, probably damaging the leather, but all he cares about is the hurtful expression splitting him in half with an intent intensity.
Gavin has a million words lodged inside his throat, his own hands itching to return the contact. But there is never enough time to get his act together and put aside his inner coward.
“Sorry.” 
The touch is but a memory now as Connor is leaving him in alone in the cold place. The android even felt the need to apologise, like he did something wrong. That won’t do.
“Wait.” Gavin grabs him by the wrist, stops him in his tracks. His hands slide down on its own, a behaviour he doesn’t approve of but is unable to oppress. He can feel his own fingers trembling as they wrap around Connor’s ever so tentatively.
“You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
 He wishes he didn’t face the android’s back so he knew whether to take that promise back.
He wishes his voice didn’t crack so he could spare himself an ounce of embarrassment.
But most of all, he wishes Connor didn’t clutch his hand this hard so he could let go and pretend nothing that out of the ordinary has happened between them. 
@a-convin-new-year sorry it’s late ;D
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phroyd · 4 years
Link
Just how badly has American capitalism failed? Consider the following.
The White House backed out of a deal to manufacture ventilators because the price tag was too high. Go ahead and guess. Ready? It was…one billion dollars. Sound like a lot? Too much? For ventilators for…the entire country…in the middle of a pandemic…that’s already spiraling out of control?
Then think about this.
Jeff Bezos is worth $113 billion. Zuck, about $60 billion. Warren Buffett, about $70 billion. Are you seeing my point yet? Let me make it clearer. Either Bezos or Zuck or Buffett — or any number of penny-ante mega-billionaires — could pay for all the ventilators America needs right now, and not even blink. Not even think twice.
Take Bezos, for example. That one billion dollars to supply the country with ventilators is less than one percent of his net worth. The net worth of the average American household is about $100K. That’s like the average American spending…a thousand dollars. The net worth of the average millennial is about $10K. That’s like the average millennial spending…one hundred dollars.
That’s how trivial it is for a Bezos to literally supply the entire country with ventilators. It’s pocket money. To call it chump change would be an overstatement. He could do it and he’d literally never even notice the money was gone. It would take his accountant a lifetime to even begin to care.
Is your head spinning yet? What on earth? It should be.
All that, my friends, is an object lesson in the profound and surreal failure of capitalism. Let me now put it in simpler terms.
Capitalism is adding disaster to tragedy, by way of needless scarcity.
Suddenly, a society experiences a catastrophe — in this case, a pandemic. That would be bad enough. But because a tiny number of people in society have hoarded all the resources — in this case money, which really just means foregone ventilators — a society cannot respond to its catastrophe well at all. What happens next? What happens is what’s going to happen.
People are going to die. In fact, they already have. Perhaps you read about the poor kid who was turned away from an urgent care center for a lack of insurance. That’s not a ventilator, but it’s not exactly hard to see how a lack of ventilators is going to start killing Americans en masse very, very soon, if it hasn’t already.
Capitalism is adding disaster to tragedy…by way of needless scarcity.
How much is one billion dollars, anyways? The American economy is worth about $20 trillion. One billion is a vanishingly small fraction of that. How small, exactly? One twenty thousandth, or .00005%. It’s so small, I might have missed a decimal place there — and it doesn’t matter, because it’s that miniscule.
And yet the government can’t raise one twenty thousandth of the size of the economy in order to provide society with the one resource it needs most to survive a pandemic — ventilators.
Think about that math for a second. Really just think about it.
What would it say about you if you couldn’t raise one twenty thousandth of your income to, say, give your kids life saving medicine? That’s a flawed analogy, but I struggle for anything — anything at all — to express the magnitude of this failure well. I literally can’t think of anything remotely close to it, so let me simply try to express it again, even more concisely.
The government can’t raise one twenty thousandth of the whole economy’s income to pay for a critical resource during a pandemic — ventilators — while it would cost a Bezos maybe one hundred of his wealth to provide them for the whole country.
What on earth? My head is spinning. Is yours? It’s so grotesque, baffling, obscene, it’s literally impossible to process. How is it that in the richest society in human history, apparently — pennies can’t be found for ventilators? And yet it’s wealthiest man could single-handedly provide them, and never even notice?
Now, here’s the even more distressing part. Bezos (or Zuck, Buffett, etc) can’t spend all that money anyways. There is simply no way that you can spend a hundred billion dollars. What would you do? You could buy up all the luxury properties and mega yachts, and you’d barely have made a dent. You’d have to buy entire cities, nations, and whole social systems. Which is effectively what a Bezos has done. Americans don’t have ventilators because Bezos has hundreds of billions. Americans don’t have healthcare because billionaires have all the money in their society.
When I have more money than I can ever spend, then there is no real cost to me to supply you, say, with ventilators. Do you see how grotesque that paradox is? That is what “artifical scarcity” means. Jeff Bezos having a billion less wouldn’t actually cost him anything, because he can’t spend it anyways. All him having those billions does is cost everyone else life-saving resources, like ventilators in a lethal pandemic.
So let’s put this epic failure in more technical terms.
Capitalism has misallocated capital on a truly stunning and surreal scale in America. It’s created a system where an entire nation goes without the critical, life-saving resources they need, in the midst of a lethal global pandemic — while the wealthy could literally buy Americans those resources single-handedly, and doing so wouldn’t make a dent in their fortunes. But the wealthy can’t spend all that money to begin with. It’s literally just sitting there, going to no good use. Like, say, the critical one of ventilators. The result will obviously be needless death on a massive scale.
Economists call all that a “deadweight loss.” If American economists were actually good ones, they’d immediately understand that capitalism is a colossal and tragic failure. Consider the Soviet Union — Americans used to make fun of it for breadlines. But now Americans are the ones beset by artificial scarcities. What’s scarce in America? Yesterday — healthcare, retirement, decent work, education, good food, and so on. The basics.
Today? The critical, life-saving necessities. Ventilators, masks, protective equipment.
Capitalism — as an economy — literally cannot supply these things to society. It is more interested in billionaires hoarding as much wealth as possible — and then crafting political mechanisms to protect that wealth. And yet that wealth is too much, in the simple sense that nobody can even spend it.
But when I have too much money that I can never spend, of course you will go without — because the economy slowly grinds to a halt, as my money simply sits there idle, instead of being invested in the things you need. That is what “artificial scarcity” means: ventilators aren’t really scarce, we just can’t make them because only Jeff Bezos can afford them, since he’s now as rich as…a whole healthcare system, which Americans now go without, since those resources belong to him.
What we see at this dire stage of American capitalism is a kind of evolution, backwards, devolution. Yesterday, basics were in perpetual, artificial short supply — money, retirement, healthcare, etc. But you can eke out a life without basics, still. Just one without dignity and meaning and happiness. Yet today, the situation is much worse. Critical, life-saving resources are now artificially scarce. And you can’t live without those.
The result? People will die — needlessly, on a staggering scale.
I can’t think of an economic system failing in a more disastrous way than that. A truer way than that. You don’t have a ventilator that might save your, your kid’s, your partner’s life — meanwhile, the wealthy could buy them for all, for every single person in society…at literally no real cost to themselves. There is literally no better example of what Marx famously called “exploitation” than all that: you dying, during a pandemic because the super rich have such an absurd amount of resources in society that they could literally buy everyone life itself, and not even notice, yet won’t, because, well…why care? Americans are being exploited and abused by capitalism now not just into poverty and overwork and social disintegration — but into lethal illness and death itself. Yes, really — in hard, cold, absolute, unforgiving terms.
Let them eat ventilators? It puts Versailles to shame.
I have few word left to express how I feel about all this. But I am not the point. You are. Some day, the world hopes, Americans will understand just how badly capitalism has abused and exploited them. Because the world is made of good people, who want the best, still, even for Americans. The question is whether Americans want that for themselves.
Umair Haque March 2020
Phroyd
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sxlverswan · 3 years
Note
"Mommy - the little girl said, big, amber eyes looking up Morgan - can you teach me how to shoot when I'm older?"
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♡ ♡ ♡  anonymous
With the swiftness of motion the kind only a mother possesses when danger is afoot, Morgan deflected the small hands from reaching the pistol on display, preventing the child from touching it in the slightest. Of course she would be attracted to it, for it was a thing of great beauty even from afar, the glinting silver inviting for a closer inspection.  
Picking it up in her hands, Morgan presented it for the child to see, lowering it and herself before her daughter.
There was more to the gun’s decoration than the pure silver of the cock and ramrod. Foliage ran along the latitude of the piece; flowers, bundled up in bouquets or made single and petite and four-point stars adorned it profusely, nearly engulfing it in metal. From the flintlock’s butt, a lion roared, a wage of war that posed a heavy contrast with the more bucolic, perennial adornments. All in all, this was an elegant artefact, working and effective in spite of its more ceremonial appearance.
Morgan’s sight lost focus among the tiny buds and vertices, mind calling upon memories of sunlit childhood days. She could still hear the soft crashing of the waves and remember the exact day her father had given her this exact flintlock, along with a twin companion which now rested away from view, tucked only she knew where.
The gun was marvellous and grand, big and heavy in her hand. Indeed, too big and heavy for her hand. You will grow into it, her father had said. Lifting the gun alone had proven a challenge to the little girl, let alone take aim and shoot, speak not of mirroring the movements with its peer, but with every day of practice the task became easier and, like Silver had predicted, Morgan’s hand grew accustomed to handling the gun as though it weighed nothing.
For years she had used it with defensive intent, employing grace and elegance in battle. Now, the pair slumbered in hard-earned peace of mind, providing beauty to the life Morgan had much desired; dormant but still capable of practical use.
She knew her daughter’s hands, now so small and quivering as they hovered the pretty flowers, ignorant of how lethal so beautiful a thing could be, would just grow into it as well. 
Morgan’s heart went heavy and finally she understood the monumental worrying her father had subjected himself to the day he had given her the flintlocks, knowing not if and how much his daughter would hurt herself in her voyage of self-growth as she learned to master them.
And she understood what a leap of faith it had been, to assume she’d make a prodigious gunner one day despite the tenderness of her age and heart, to simply know this arguably messed-up step in parenthood was an unavoidable part of his daughter’s destiny and he could not stop it from happening, not when Morgan’s infantile eyes brimmed with awe and resolution at the sight of the birthday present. It had taken no small amount of courage from Silver’s part.
The day would come where Morgan must be as brave as her father had been... But not today. Not yet, when her daughter's hands were not of proper size...
❝ Yes, darling.❞ She replied, before returning the flintlock to its case on the mantelpiece and taking the softest, most unprepared hand in hers, turning her back on the object and the subject of destiny’s temptation. ❝ When you are much older. ❞
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pretend to be my character’s child
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