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arcticdementor · 3 years

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Other possible Holocausts: why pro-lifers are lying to us, and why thats a good thing

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Ive had a running argument over the past few years that the raw lack of anti-abortion terrorist action proves no one really thinks abortion is murder, ie. intentional 1st degree murder of a life equal to yours or mine.

Ive always gotten pushback to quote WillyWang:

The "revealed preference" of those that oppose abortion but don't firebomb clinics and kill doctors? It won't help, you'll be made an example of in the negative sense, and civilized norms are more important than a useless symbolic point. One clinic destroyed won't end abortion, after all.

From which this Effort-post got its Genesis:

Would you say the same about those who participated in the french resistance or Warsaw Ghetto rising to Nazi Germany?

Everyone of those claims applies there: they were likely to be made examples of, they were damaging civilized norms, and any given action had relatively little to no impact.

Yet the same people who insist abortion is murder, and thus that America is committing a holocaust, yet denounce any of the people who employed violence against abortion doctors or clinics, and can’t distance themselves fast enough from any call for violence... none of those people apply the same logic to the first holocaust. None of them say the frenchmen who bombed german police stations where dangerous terrorists who deserved their executions, none of them denounce the Warsaw ghetto rising as an attack on civilization.

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If anti-abortion advocated genuinely believed a fetus was a equivalent human life to yours or mine or the little kids they see walk to school, and that this was an ongoing holocaust of American Children at a scale possibly 10x or more what was done to the jews... they wouldn’t need to come up with ad hoc reasons why they don’t resort to violence, their mind would be screaming at them to take bloody vengeance 24/7 in righteous outrage, demanding that oceans of blood and fire be unleashed that it might wash clean the horror, that nuclear fire would be be an acceptable emergency shut off to end such wanton and cruel slaughter... and if thinking through all the logic they concluded that no violence wouldn’t help and they must pursue some peaceful negotiation to stop the slaughter, then their minds recoil and call themselves cowards and the moment of coming to that conclusion would be an ongoing trauma they’d carry with them for the rest of their life, even if they knew they were 100% right. They would meet the “pro-choice” and barely be able to conceal their desire to see them dead or imprisoned... they would meet women who had had abortions and scream bloody murder at them and tell them they deserve the death penalty, the way many of the same people react when presented with women who’d murdered their children, but after their children had left the womb.

The people who were jailed for assassinating abortionists, or fire-bombing clinics would be folk heroes lionized in songs and crowd funded hagiographic documentaries and folk traditions, like John Brown, or John Wilkes Booth, or Louis Reil, or Saco and Vancety, or Huey Newton, or Malcolm X, or David Koresh, or Levoy Finecolm... or hell even just Jesse James, or Killdozer.

Americans abort on average 1 million plus babies a year... that means if abortion is murder and those are human lives, then the 50 years since Roe vs.Wade has been a worse crime than the holocaust, slavery, or the crimes of Stalin, and we’d have to consult a historian to see if they were worse than Mao (on a per capita basis, certainly)...

This would be the worse crime ever commited, the greatest mass slaughter ever perpetrated in human history, and 50 years later our society would remain committed to repeating it in the next 50 years.

If that does not demand violence, then nothing in human history ever has, no even defensive war has ever been justified, and only Jainists and Jehovah’s witnesses are morally acceptable actors. An extreme unexceedable pascifism we know the vast majority of anti-abortion advocates do not endorse, since they overwhelming supported or at-least did not conspicuously oppose the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (over a mere 3000 Americans dead, and a less than a years abortions worth of Iraqis killed by Saddam) and continue to conspicuously “Support our troops” troops that exist to carry out violence, despite their moral commitments saying they can apparently never in human history be justified.

When i say this proves “Pro-lifers” clearly do not believe a fetus is an equal human life, thats me being incredibly charitable. That is me extending a overwhelming large olive branch, that is me expressing a stupendous care and concern and sympathy and brotherly love to rival the best 19th century dinner host, the dearest of friends, a benevolent older sibling, a lover, a parent, a mother who on hearing the taped confession of her son to serial murder, doesn’t hesitate once before screaming “you monsters you’ve drugged and tortured him! What threats have you made to my grandchild! He would only say such things to save his daughter’s life!”

My claiming they are full of shit and lying to themselves, to you, and to me, is an expression of love and faith in my fellow man which until now I did not realized I possessed nor was capable of...

Because if I merely took them at their word? If I believed that they believed what they say they believe? They would be monsters.

Lets play a game called “Other Possible Holocausts”. Approximately 800,000 babies where aborted this year.

Lets imagine the US government has just announced that crime has gotten to cumbersome and that over the next 3 years it plans to execute every single one of the 2.4 million people in US prisons jails and Jeuvenile detention centres.

Lets imagine that to reform education, the US resolves to kill the bottom 1% of all 80 million students in the country based on an age adjusted standardized test every year.

Lets imagine hatred of the obese takes off, and a policy is passed to resolve America’s 30% obesity rate by the mass instituting of bounties on hunting and killing the obese... that every year 800,000 to 1.5 million tags will be issued for a fee to allow the hunting of the obese in return for monetary rewards on successful hunts and getting to keep the carcasses for meat base animal foods and the manufacture of fuel, or fat based household products. These bounty hunters become known a “whalers”.

Lets imagine the US announces its done with African Americans... if the problem hasn’t been solved since 1619, its not going to be... and so they’re going to genocide all 40 million African Americans at a rate of 2% a year, for the next 50 years.

Lets imagine opposing extremists get in charge and decide the racists rednecks have to go, and so they’ll be forming death squads to roam the South, Appalachia, and the rust belt, with the objective of killing 800,000 poor whites a year, “until the problem is solved”... with many happily stating 50 years of this would be acceptable, while others state it’d be perfectly fine to renew it another 50 years after that.

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These are all American lives, and according to pro-lifers of equal moral value to the babies aborted every day, no better, no worse.

By saying this and by saying violence is not and cannot be justified to resist it, they are saying that their reactions to any one of the above eventualities would be to continue to live their lives as they have lived the past 50 years.

I do not know how to respond to that. Even if Abortion is truly murder of an ensouled equal human life... The Pro-choicers committing the murders don’t think it is... hell the Nazis murdered 6 million jews and a further 5 million undesirables, but they didn’t think of them as human, they thought they were monstrous and “life unworthy of life”, like a burning man begging you to shoot him so he doesn’t suffer or hurt his fellows... a mercy in a way.

Pro-lifers on the other hand claim these are equal viable human lives of equal status to yours or mine or perhaps even greater.... They’re Children.

And their reaction to the greatest mass slaughter in human history, the reaction of almost half the electorate, who regularly talk about the need to resist tyrrany and defend the weak (as both left and right in the US do, in their way), their reaction is to vote every 4 years, and have it perhaps not even be the #1 issue if the economy seems bad, they have the opportunity to vote for the first black president, or the Orangeman says something crude about Mexicans... they won’t be single issue voters even when it comes to the greatest crime ever committed in human history?

I refuse to believe it. Even I, cynical as I am, have to believe we are not that far gone, and the age of men has not come crashing down... i would believe the US capable of such a crime, but to believe that a double digit percentage of Americans could look at that, recognize the victims as their fellow humans,recognize their state and society as committing mass murder of their neighbours, future friends, and relatives...to recognize that they have a moral imperative to act on this... and then just go “welp them’s the breaks, gotta be civilized” because 9 people in black robes said it wasn’t murder?

Holy fuck. No that is not how people work, that is not how humans behave, I cannot accept that, and leftists who spent the summer rioting in response to fewer than a thousand police killings of black men a year, who remember the civil rights and anti-war movements, who kinda vaguely recall that they’re supposed to remember Huey Newton, or Saco and Vanseti, or those Rossen...something people... who like to imagine they’d have been abolitionists in the 19th century. They’re right to call bullshit.

They’re right to call the pro-lifers liars who don’t believe their own messaging, and instead just want to control women’s bodies, after a lie like that to their face, they’re right to treat them with scorn.

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Pro-life is rescuable as a sentiment and an activist movement...

But not while it claims a Holocaust is going on and somehow magically no violence could ever be justified to resist it, thus lining up all the arguments that will allow the next holocaust to be committed without resistance.

There have been a double digit, perhaps even a triple digit number of mass murders and genocides in the hundreds of thousands or millions of people, since the 20th century. America is enabling its ally Saudi Arabia to commit one against the Yemenis right fucking now.

We need to be very fucking clear about what it is justified to do to members of a regime that commits such a crime, and what it is definitely justified to do to the immediate perpetrators of the murder. And That we will back violent resistance to such a horrible crime by the state even if it serves only to make the resister a martyr we’ll praise, or it degrades “civilization” (what civilization could remain in such a regime?), or it ultimately has no effect (it is on the survivor to try harder)... The major members of the House of Saud deserve the Gallows under international law for what they’re doing in Yemen , as do their American attaches and core enablers... and if that comes from a Judge in the Hauge or from a convoy of irregulars in pickup trucks, or from lone assassins who manage to get through to them, It is justice, and i will praise it.

What we cannot do is pretend that genocides and mass slaughter on unconscionable scales are occurring and then come up with excuses for why we should do nothing and anyone who does resist is a criminal. Or else those excuses will be the ones that allow the next real genocide in the west or on US soil to actually happen.

If there is a genocide or democide or whatever you want to call mass slaughter. You must recognize the justice the violent resistance to it, even if you personally do not participate, or you must admit you were lying about there being such a crime... to say otherwise, to say a state can commit such a crime and still retain its right to your loyalty, to say a people up to and including its victims must obey such a thing, a creature made of bureaucracy that has set its sights on massacring humans by the thousands if not millions... it is to side against the human race in a war of extermination.

And as someone whose pro-choice as they come, I’d much rather, if the pro-lifers really believe its murder, I’d much rather they start a bloody civil war, than for it to become the norm that that is ethically acceptable.

#kulakrevolt #reddit #the motte #food for thought

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panharmonium · 3 years

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more scattered naruto thoughts now that we’ve finished season 8 -

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time and have only gotten up to the end of season 8 (after pain destroys the hidden leaf village). i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons. Thank you! <3 ]

- i like the way S8 ended. i know that in real life maybe it wouldn’t be so feasible to just talk your enemy back to the light, but honestly, i don’t care. i love that shit. i love stories when people refuse to hurt the people who hurt them first, and then their seemingly inconceivable choice to refrain from striking back creates a connection (it’s the ‘return of the jedi’ effect, folks). i understand that it doesn’t work like that in real life most of the time, and i don’t recommend it for real life people trying to defend themselves, but i do love it in fiction. i LOVED how naruto went in pursuit of nagato to talk to him, not fight him. even though naruto says straight-up “i can’t forgive you” / “I want to kill you so badly i can’t stop shaking” - he still recognizes that his enemy is someone who’s been victimized, and he has enough compassion to feel pain on their behalf even when he himself is reeling from having his entire home destroyed and both of his teachers murdered by the person he’s confronting. his choice to control his (valid) rage and extend a hand in compassion is ultimately what changes the outcome and saves everyone who would have died, reversing the damage that was done, and i love that shit.

- absolutely adore yamato abandoning his own mission and taking off at a run to try and help naruto when he senses that naruto is losing control over the nine-tails. this man thought he was just a substitute teacher for a while there, but he’s become part of the family while he wasn’t looking.

- HINATA. oh my god i couldn’t even enjoy this incredible moment because i was so stressed out (and angry, at the time, because i really thought they were going to kill her, and that would’ve crossed my line). i want to watch this again knowing that she’s fine, because my anxiety over ‘fuck fuck fuck they’re actually going to kill one of the kids’ precluded me from even appreciating it appropriately.

- there’s been a lot of talk on this show about how sakura doesn’t have as much chakra as naruto or sasuke, but she heals people non-stop the entire time Pain is attacking and doesn’t show any signs of running dry. SHOW HER SOME RESPECT.

- CHOOOOOOOOJIIIIIIII! omg. i was so afraid that his father was actually dead, and SO RELIEVED that he was okay. you can’t do that to choji!!!

- also relatedly, how much do i adore choji for caring so much about kakashi? <333 i mean this kid is there sobbing over his dead body, and then he bursts out crying when kakashi comes back to life - i really appreciate these little ties between characters who aren’t always in close quarters but who do have a relationship. kakashi has been a teacher to ALL of the kids, and team 10 especially feels indebted to him - the respect and affection they all feel for him is very real.

- first time i actually thought ‘ok he’s cool’ with regard to minato was when he talked to the nine-tails so unfazed like “he’s a loudmouth. let’s go somewhere more quiet.’ i’ve been kind of so-so on his character so far, but i liked this.

- also later in that scene - the (rare) scenes we’ve seen where naruto totally breaks down absolutely kill me. it happened once when gaara was dead, and then there’s another moment in this episode when he’s talking to minato - whoever voices him does just incredible work in those moments, and it is SO PAINFUL to me because naruto is always such a happy kid the rest of the time and eternally optimistic and positive and excited and popping back up every time he falls down, and so when he cracks it is just devastating to see. i hate seeing him cry like that.

- similarly - that shot of sasuke at the end of the itachi arc wrecked me. naruto’s breakdowns are upsetting, but at least he allows himself to have them - when he gets pushed past a breaking point, he explodes. he cries and yells and spills every single thought in his head in front of everybody who’s around him, and after it’s done, things get better. he’s with people who care about him. he’s venting and making himself understood, and he always finds his equilibrium again.

sasuke, though, has been completely locked down ever since we saw him sneak out of the hospital to wander around the scene of his community’s mass murder, and he’s still locked down now, even crying all alone at the edge of the ocean. this moment isn’t cathartic. it isn’t a release. this is barely even a sliver of what this kid has going on inside him, and it looks like it’s agonizing for him to even let that much out.

- the scene where naruto is about to give up and give in to the nine-tails’s power...that exchange!!!!!!!

i don’t know. it hurts. i hate this. i don’t know. what should i do. i don’t know anything anymore. someone...please help me. give me...an answer.

destroy everything. erase anything that causes you pain. give me your soul, your spirit, your vital essence. give it to me, and in exchange, i will rescue you from your pain.

this whole exchange is amazing. the way naruto says ‘it hurts’...this is one of those scenes that expands to cover so much more ground than just what’s onscreen at that moment. what naruto overcomes here is precisely the trap that sasuke has not been able to escape. sasuke has never had any framework for dealing with pain that isn’t about pursuing vengeance. it’s the only way he thinks he can free himself from his pain - by putting all of his energy into destroying the people who hurt him.

but it becomes an endless cycle, because he never succeeds. itachi dies and sasuke feels worse than ever, so he turns his attention to the hidden leaf in an attempt to finally kill what’s hurting him. but even if sasuke were to raze the entire village to the ground, his pain would still be with him, and he’d then have to turn his attention to yet another target, because the alternative would be to recognize that he can’t escape his pain by destroying the things that hurt him, and that’s not something he’s able to accept right now. he’s spent half his life fixated on the idea that revenge can rescue him from how terrible he feels, and abandoning that idea now would mean that nothing can save him. it would mean that he’s going to hurt like this no matter what he does.

kakashi tried to warn him about this. he tried to tell sasuke that even after getting his revenge, sasuke wouldn’t feel better, that he’d only tear himself apart trying to achieve something that would leave him feeling empty - but sasuke was too entrenched in his own warped thinking to believe it. and ever since then, sasuke has been in the company of people who are happy to let him dig himself deeper and deeper into a self-destructive hole as long as it benefits their agenda. they don’t care if he’s hurting himself. they’re happy to see him suffering. his pain is a tool they can use.

- a note re: kakashi, when it comes to this topic -

i think it’s relevant to remember that kakashi never tells sasuke not to pursue revenge because it’s “wrong” or ethically questionable. he never delivers any moralizing speeches in the vein of “if you kill someone who victimized you, you’re just as bad as they are.” kakashi doesn’t think it’s wrong if itachi dies, and if sasuke were in a better state of mind, he probably wouldn’t even mind if sasuke were the one to kill him. that’s why kakashi is comfortable helping team 10 pursue asuma’s killers, after all - because they’re not unbalanced by rage or making self-destructive decisions; they’re acting with clear heads and pursuing a course of action that needs to be taken anyway (asuma’s murderers are on their way to the leaf to capture naruto - they need to be dealt with regardless). team 10′s kids can handle that mission - they’re thinking straight. they’re comfortable accepting adult guidance. they’re grieving, but they’re okay.

sasuke is not. sasuke has been deeply traumatized since he was a very young child, and encouraging his quest for vengeance is equivalent to validating all of the fucked-up thought patterns that are hurting him so badly - that it was his responsibility (as a seven year-old child) to protect his clan, that he was weak and cowardly for running away, that he needs to take itachi down as penance for failing to save his family, that killing itachi is the only way for him to justify his childhood survival, that killing itachi will free him from his pain. for kakashi to encourage any of these false convictions would be irresponsible and, ultimately, harmful to the child he’s supposed to be looking after. if sasuke gets his revenge on itachi, he’s just going to be left with the horrifying realization that his pain hasn’t lessened even the slightest bit, except that now he also has to deal with the additional trauma of killing someone he used to love.

kakashi doesn’t discourage sasuke from revenge because Revenge Is Morally Bad and You Are Morally Bad For Pursuing It; he discourages sasuke from revenge because in this particular case, sasuke’s fixation on revenge is hurting him. it’s unhealthy for him, and it will cause him worse pain in the future if he allows it to continue driving his life. sasuke is never going to feel better if he doesn’t stop distracting himself from his pain by focusing solely on vengeance. if he’s ever going to actually be rescued from his pain, he needs to face (and FEEL!!!) his grief, which is precisely what staying fixated on revenge allows him to avoid.

- relatedly: i just. am SO sick. of all these horrible people. getting their hands on sasuke. and using him for their own ends. when he has already been manipulated and victimized all his life. it makes me wanna SCREAM!!!! and i know that’s the point; we are supposed to be frustrated by this - but - hrnghghgnh

and like - it’s not like sasuke doesn’t know it’s happening! he’s not stupid! he knows the people around him are using him, and he just tries to use them back and play them before they play him, and he accepts that this is what his life is going to look like, and because he survives, he thinks he’s in control, but he has NO IDEA how far over his head he’s in now. and besides, he never stops to think that maybe his life shouldn’t look like this. he has no conception of ‘someone should be taking care of me.’ he’s never seen himself as a child who needs protection - he’s never seen himself as a child, period. it’s why he’s such a brat to the other kids, and it’s why he never calls kakashi ‘sensei.’ he thinks of himself as an adult. he has adult problems. he can’t connect to children his own age because he can’t connect to the idea of childhood - his childhood was stolen from him, and with it went any conception of refuge or safety or the fact that relentless self-sufficiency and a constant cycle of using/being used by other people isn’t in fact what his life is supposed to look like.

i am continually infuriated by all of these people who have abdicated their responsibility as adults and chosen to exploit an already exploited kid, one who is too messed up to save himself or let anybody else help him. none of these people care about him. they all want to use him for something. they’re happy he’s in pain, because his pain is what enables them to manipulate him.

the people who DO truly want to help him are the same people he’s desperately trying to avoid. the only adult sasuke ever had a meaningful and non-manipulative relationship with is the same adult he keeps running away from. and the only two people his own age who ever actually knew anything about him or cared if he was okay are the two people he keeps pushing away.

there is, perhaps, a lot to be said about how sasuke continually runs away from the people who actually care about him and instead affiliates himself with people he’ll never have to worry about forming a connection with. “having too many ties in this world just holds you back” - sure, and having no ties protects you, too. nobody to love you, nobody to know you, nobody you can ever lose.

#naruto #pan watches naruto

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kewltie · 4 years

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Izuku had broken up with Katsuki on a boring, unspectacular Wednesday.

Afterward, it only took three hours for his name to trend all over the internet and be called a clout chaser, gold digger, and even a harlot by millions of random people he’d never before because he'd broken the heart of their precious Crown Prince.

He couldn't even step a foot outside of his home without being bombarded with paparazzi accusing him of using the prince to social climb before ruthlessly dumping him.

"What did I tell you about dating His Royal Asshole?" Ochako says as Izuku groans, having hide out in her apartment for three days now because the media corps decided to stake out his apartment for him.

"To not to do it," he admits with a wince, "even on pain of death and that I should stay away from that hot mess."

"Atta boy," she says with a nod, but she doesn't let him rest on his laurels for long, "but you didn't listen and chose to jumped right in and be fucked over."

"It was his hot bod," Izuku murmurs, staring down at their tray of takeout daifuku from his favorite dessert shop; the one that he used to visit often with Katsuki but can't anymore because the kind elderly owner who'd always handed him extra daifuku with his purchased had given him the stink eye and a lecture when he came to pick up his order yesterday.

Ochako snorts. "If only that was the case, then you would have dated Kirishima instead like I'd wisely suggested. At least he wasn’t a prince."

He sulks. "Kacchan took my favorite shoe hostage! He wouldn't give it back unless I go on a date with him."

"Because you threw your shoe at him!" she retorts.

Izuku groans again, because this story had been rehashed so many times already. "It was an accident! And he only asked me out so he can mock me endlessly about it."

"And you found that Royal Ass charming enough to go on another date and another and another.” She huffs. “Now, look where you’d ended up."

Izuku stares down at his pajamas that he hadn't bother to change out since this morning. It has been several days now and he’d barely left Ochako's apartment for anything but the lure of food. What a sad and deplorable existence his life became, and all because he'd fallen in love with the Crown Prince of Japan.

"It been two weeks already," he whines, resisting the urge to shove another piece of daifuku in his mouth. It would have been his thirteen one on this awful evening. "Why won't they just leave me alone? I'm not that interesting enough to keep making headlines after headlines. Every. Single. Day."

Ochako just gives him a long, pointed look. "You broke up with him on live TV and in front of hundreds important guests s at his mother's birthday, who by the way is the much loved Empress. For someone who is afraid of drawing attention to himself you sure know how to wreck complete havoc."

Izuku drops his face into his hands and mutters words into it, muffling his respond. The memory of Katsuki's distraught and confused face that night, just right before Izuku had run out on him, still haunts him.

A hand ruffles his hair fondly. "Hey, hey, can't hear you."

He groans and raises his head in despair. "I wasn't in my right mind."

"I would hope so," Ochako says dryly. "This may even top that time when you broke into Eito Med Lab at sixteen, freed all their test animals, and got thrown in jail for three days."

Izuku grimaces. "That bad?"

She lets out a whistle. "Way worst." She pats him on the shoulder. "If you wanted to cut him off you could have break it to him gently. In private, preferably, and where his parents, various government dignitaries, and the entire nation weren't breathing down your back the whole time."

Tucking his knees against his chest, he chews on his lower lip and quietly confesses, "I found the ring Kacchan was hiding."

Ochako's eyes nearly bulge out of their socket. "He was going to ask you to married him?!"

Izuku hesitates, then frantically, he says, "I panicked!" he protests. "It was just before we’d left for the party and I saw the ring box hidden in his drawers.” He recalls that moment when he’d first found it and how it felt like his entire world had shift on its axis. “All thoughts went out of my head after that." He drags his hands down his face. "What was I supposed to do?!"

"Not break up with him on live TV!" she snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose. Ochako lets out a long-suffering sigh like Izuku's existence is tiring her. That's probably true, because being around Izuku is tiring. "So did you not want to marry him, is that it?" she probes.

Izuku looks away, his insides all twisted up thinking about it. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Of course it does!" she insists loudly, drawing his attention back to her. "If you don't want marry him then that's fine, but," she frowns at him, "if you do want to then you got to stop sabotaging yourself!"

"I just don't think we're a good match for each other," he reveals his deepest and greatest fear that he had been nursing since he knew what it’d meant to be with Bakugou Katsuki.

All the anxiety he'd locked away in a chest is now broke open, spilling out of the cracks. He's terrified. Wretchedly afraid like the first time he'd found out every tabloid press had plastered his face and name everywhere just because he was caught hanging out with Kacchan. They weren't even dating at that time.

Her brows furrow. "Why do you date him then? I thought you love," she pauses and shakes her head before continuing, "well, maybe it's loved now."

Izuku nearly jumps out of his seat to correct her. "No, I still do! That hasn't change!"

"Then?" she presses relentlessly.

Izuku swallows, hands clasping together in a tangle of tight knot in front of him. "I'm not a good fit for him. There’s a thick juvenile record with my name written all over it, I’m chronically anxious and fighting off depression on a good day. My perfect night is cuddling in bed and tuning into a nature documentary, while Kacchan is out pretty much every night shaking hands with the movers and shakers of the world. Everything little things he do make the news, even that one time he decided to wear a blue sweater and for the next three days that’s all the top news agency talk about the latest Prince Katsuki’s fashion trend. You can’t even be mad at him at all for it because he’s fiercly smart, charming when he wants to be, and more driven than anyone I know. And he lives is an actual palace where he get attended by servants everyday! Like, for him his normal day is some strange drugged up fantasy! Can’t you see how he's—"

"Also an asshole," Ochako interjects with an eye roll.

Izuku cries out in protest, but she raises her had up to stop him. "Look, Bakugou is smart as you said. Brilliant even," she easily admits. "He’d made a lot of great political moves and done plenty to bolster the economy. He gets shit done and gets it done right, but he's not a people person." She sighs. "He looks at this country and sees it as a machine that he can fix and tinker with, but not as individual smaller pieces that make up the larger picture; he doesn't see us because he's Bakugou Katsuki, a prince who lives in a separate world than us so he doesn’t understand what it like to live on paycheck by paycheck, to worry about where your next meal may come from, and to live off government’s generosity. He's a great prince but you," she looks at him softly, "made him a good man and that’s more than anyone had ever done."

She pries his tangled hands from each other and tucks them in hers, squeezing it meaningfully. "It's because you feel so impassioned for this world and everyone who lives in it and not afraid to get hurt or let your voice be heard that Bakugou actually listened to you."

Izuku looks down at their held hand and feel tears fall down his cheeks. He doesn't deserve the friends he has now. They're amazing people, far better than him. "Ochako, thank you," he says, sniffing hard. "Thank you so much, but you have to understand Kacchan isn't just anyone." It feels tight and painful to admit it, but he wants her to know it’s not about him. It’s all for Katsuki. "He's the heir to the throne and he has so many responsibilities rested on his shoulders that sometimes I would wake up at night and still see him up at 3AM drafting a new speech or policy. It looks easy because he purposely makes it look that way. He just puts so much on himself and doesn’t want to ask for help because his dumb pride, but he cares more than he let on." He smiles thinking of how Katsuki loves, loves so fiercely that it’s drowning him. And Izuku is the anchor currently dragging him down right now.

"He's going to be the future emperor one day and the person standing next to him can’t just be anyone,” he says softly. “It can’t be little old me. I'm just so scare." He breaks at that admission. "So terrified that one day Kacchan will realize I was just one big mistake."

“Oh, Izuku,” she breathes. “You’re such an idiot.” She breaks their hold and grabs him, pulling him against her chest. "It'll be okay."

Izuku knows nothing will be okay again. He'd just broken his own heart and Katsuki's just to save their future. It's fixable now. Who ever said love is fairy tale is damn liar. Did no one wonder what happened after the prince married Cinderella and the magic ended?

#bakudeku #fic snippet #modern cinderella au

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

i don’t believe a word you say/but i can’t stop listening, where did the party go .... something with a little salt 👀 mayhaps? (Also I now wanna listen to everything again dammit)

Tony was the biggest idiot on this fucking earth. He knows it as he’s watching Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes run from the bunker in the middle of Siberia. A shield discarded to the side, finished with its job of cutting through the suit’s power source.

“Friday,” Tony rasps.

“Vision and Ms. Potts are sent, Boss. I advised them to bring coats and jackets. Reserving power for heat, they should be here in less than an hour based on trajectory.”

Tony’s lucky that Vision was already in Europe, otherwise he might be feeling more blue than he was.

But now. Anger fuels warmth. Funny how it works out that he’s so fucking lonely but so fucking angry.

Keeping the team together. Yeah, sure. That’s why they’re in this fight, that’s why Steve never told him about that. Why Natasha agreed and then decided to let them go because “you need to watch your back.”

Watch his fucking back. Because she knew that she would be betraying him, knew that he meant nothing, or at least not as much as those two did. The team had been family, he thought.

But then again, he had grown up with an alcoholic father who would rather be free from a wife and child. He had grown up with a mother who tried her best to shield him, but she wasn’t quite sure how to be a loving mother.

So what the fuck does he know about family anyways?

(Enough to know it shouldn’t hurt.)

He gets carried home, and he makes Pepper a promise: he won’t ever talk to them again if he can help it.

“No pardons, no feeling bad for them,” Pepper says, voice shaking. He thinks she looks too sad for him. Her eyes burn a bright, searing orange. “Ever.”

Tony is home. Rhodey is there too, which is nice. Of course it’s not nice to be reminded that it’s Tony’s fault that he’s home.

“It’s not your fault,” Rhodey says. “I knew what I signed up for. Besides, it’s not like you’re doing any better than I am, are you?”

So they suffer together and Tony’s eyes stare at the news of the hunt for the rogues.

“Where is our Captain?” The news anchor asks, eyes wonderfully blank and smile as fake as fake can be. “More coming up next. First: what did Tony Stark do, and why couldn’t he capture his own team?”

Rhodey shuts it off.

“You don’t need that shit,” he says with a scowl. “None of it. Come on, let’s fix dinner.”

Tony goes quiet. Radio silent. This is worrying for a variety of reasons, but mostly because Tony likes to talk about many things.

He’s listening for any news that the team will be back. He doesn’t want to take them back, it’s too late for that. But he knows that he will need them when the time comes.

It is late when he hears a noise in his kitchen. Rhodey does not get up to go anywhere but the bathroom, so it’s not him. Pepper has been convinced to go take a vacation for herself. No one else is in-house, currently.

Natasha.

Of course it is.

She’s stealing his blueberries. He stares at her.

“Long time no see, Tony.”

“Don’t–” he nearly chokes. “Don’t call me that.”

It’s weighted, that statement. Because everyone calls Tony “Tony.” It’s his name. He’s never gone by Anthony. Ever.

(Except. Except Natasha remembers that he said his father used to call him Anthony and he hated his father.)

“I’m here for an explanation,” Natasha says.

“I only want to hear an apology,” Tony responds. His voice is shaking. “I don’t want to hear why you abandoned my side because you wanted Steve and his friend to escape. I don’t want to hear about why you couldn’t face the music. I already know why you can’t.”

“I’m not apologizing for my decisions,” Natasha says, trying to keep her voice even. “You know why I had to do what I had to do.”

“Because you’re Black Widow,” Tony spits. “Because you were trained to disappear when things got tough, disappear until your next assignment. You couldn’t be Natasha Romanoff, not in front of everyone. Because you know that you are not immune to judgment, what they would say of some of your missions and decisions.”

“What do you mean by that? I can’t be myself?” Natasha asks, growing bolder.

“Have you ever been yourself?” Tony shoots back. “You can be Black Widow because you were made for that. But Natasha Romanoff was self-made. You pick and choose what you represent and what you don’t and yeah I get that, but you have to face something that you won’t be able to manipulate. And I think you know that, and that terrifies the living shit out of you.”

Silence.

“Listen, Tony–”

“No.”

Natasha looks up.

She notices how tired Tony looks. He’s never looked this tired.

“I’m fucking done listening. You didn’t listen when over a hundred countries told you they didn’t feel safe with us having almost zero boundaries.

And as much as you’re the golden girl of SHIELD, they’re not that great at diplomacy. So I wanted to try and make others feel safe. You didn’t get that, Steve didn’t get that. It’s not about a big stick policy, Black Widow. It never was supposed to be.”

“Tony, no–”

“Don’t. Get the fuck out of my house before I send it to lockdown and have you arrested for the rest of your life,” Tony hisses. “Now!”

She disappears.

Tony goes to the kitchen table and sinks into himself.

He knows he should have turned her in, he knows he should have. But he can’t. Besides all of his speech, besides the fact that it made his skin crawl that she got into his house, he knows her on a level that’s personal. And he loved her. Maybe he still does.

But it’s ruined now. It’s all gone to shit.

#CIVIL WAR SALT #anyways the dynamics between tony and nat on opposite sides >>>>>>>#oof it's good #lovelyirony writes #natasha romanoff #tony stark #yes am i salty about nat switching sides? yes #do i think tony should've felt more betrayed? yes

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Don't screw with the crew!

Back in the early 90s, I got a gig working as a front-of-house sound engineer on a major 10-day music and arts festival in London’s Docklands with some fifteen stages dotted all around the waterfront. All of the crew working the stages were either experienced theatre techs, and/or had loads of experience working major outside events, which is the reason we were hired. As an aside, this festival was to celebrate the culmination of a massive investment in the redevelopment of this area of East London, itself the former site of one of the largest dock complexes in the world.

I was tasked with running FOH sound on one of the largest stages. Normally, events like this are loads of fun to work but within two days it became apparent that the organisers had 1), no idea of how to run major outside events and 2), had not the faintest idea of how to book acts and schedule same. In particular, we also had to contend with some woman from Docklands' middle management team who had been given the job of "overseeing" our particular stage, a person who not only had rapidly proved to be totally ignorant of any aspect of managing outside events, but also someone for whom the word "entitled" had been invented.

Our stage was licensed to run events from midday until 10:00pm but we rarely had a full day’s-worth of events for punters to enjoy, due to the aforementioned incompetence with booking. Still, not our problem—we'll just work with what’s given us.

On the Thursday, we had scheduled an evening of old-time Victorian music hall which featured, as a special guest, a very famous film and TV actress. Her performance rider required a grand piano. For some unfathomable reason (and again due to the incompetence of the organisers), the piano—a full-size Yamaha concert grand—arrived from the hire company on the Tuesday. This was a remarkably stupid idea for any number of reasons: due to operational considerations, we had to store the piano in the backstage area where it spent two days suffering in the heat of the day despite our best efforts to shield it.

As any piano technician/tuner will tell you, this is An Extremely Bad Idea, especially with an instrument worth close to £100,000. Almost as bad was the fact that our area was little more than a roughly-graded building site: the ground was covered in hard-core rubble fragments around the size of hen’s eggs (very uncomfortable to walk around on, even with proper work boots), which also kicked up loads of dust and other detritus—not the sort of crap you want floating about gumming up the works of a very expensive concert grand!

Now let me properly set the scene: it’s mid-summer, very hot, and our venue is a large circus-style tent with around 800-seat capacity. The cast of the show, along with our august star, were due to turn up at around 1:00pm to conduct a production rehearsal so we could sort out sound and lighting cues for the show.

The main cast duly turn up on time, and we start sorting out their technical requirements (pretty simple and nothing that we’re not used to). At about 1:30pm, our star turns up sporting dark glasses and an immaculate couture. As anyone who’s worked in this industry knows, the initial interaction with a major A-list star vis-à-vis their technical requirements can go one of two ways: full-monty diva, or let’s go with what we have.

Her first demand was that the piano be dropped off the front of the stage so that she could maintain an eye-line whilst standing right downstage, both with her pianist and with the audience. The stage was about 4.5 feet above ground level and would have required at least eight burly lads to safely shift a full-size concert grand off the deck. Also not a good idea since it had been tuned that morning and moving it would have almost certainly caused the tuning to go out of whack.

I delicately pointed out that doing so would be in direct violation of both health and safety, and fire regulations—as per our written policy—as it would have put the piano in both the fire lane and close to one of the primary emergency exits from the venue. Thinking rapidly, I then suggested that we place the piano as far downstage as physically possible, and that she page herself three or four feet upstage so that she could still glance over and take cues from her MD whilst still “taking in” the audience.

The tension was palpable: after a few seconds consideration she replied, “No problem, I can work with that.” Phew!! No sooner than this crisis had been averted than the Docklands rep rocked up. I remind you, gentle reader, that this person had absolutely zero knowledge about how to run an outside event.

She had also been a major thorn in our side for the previous week, trying to micro-manage proceedings in the venue in order to big herself up in front of her bosses: we, of course, completely ignored her “suggestions” but in such a way as made her think she was in charge—trust me, she wasn’t! She had also been inexcusably rude to virtually every single member of the crew from Day One, and had over the days previous reduced several of them to tears. Production crews don’t take kindly to our own being treated in such a cavalier fashion, and while we’re generally fairly thick-skinned, there comes point where we want to get our own back. Believe me, after a week of constant abuse, we were coming up with creative ways of disposing of the body.

Although we didn’t realise I at the time, our saviour was at hand…but I digress…

Obviously star-struck, she announced in gushing tones that she would be taking personal charge of our star’s every need and that we were not to concern ourselves with that aspect: indeed, we were to “keep our place” as we were only the hired help. Our stage manager, who was at that time sweeping the stage, bridled at the suggestion and made as if to use his broom to beat the brains out of this woman. I had to step in front of him as unobtrusively as possible and stop him from burying the woman right there and then—“she ain’t worth it, mate.”

She then swanned off, leaving our star slack-jawed in amazement. She then turned to me and said, “Is that fucking woman for real?” I replied: “Darling, you have NO idea!”, at which point she laughed uproariously. I gave our star a brief summary of the previous few days' farrago and instantly, she became one of us and from then on we were all on first-name terms.

We then ran a full tech rehearsal from 3:00pm to 5:00pm, sorted out all our cues and then repaired to the beer tent with the cast for a spot of late lunch and a drink or two.

The show was scheduled to kick off at 7:30pm. At around 6:00pm, The Harridan reappeared to overlook the situation. She noticed that we had all the sides of the tent raised in order to get some air flowing through—remember it’s mid-summer and it’s currently low to mid 80s. She then demanded that all of the tent flaps be lowered because she wanted a more “theatre” atmosphere and the light spilling through the side walls would spoil the effect. Despite pointing out that dropping the tent sides would significantly raise the temperature in the venue, she demanded the sides be dropped, so despite our earnest advice to the contrary, we reluctantly complied.

At around 7:00pm, we saw eight 50-seat coaches arrive. To our amazement, out from the coaches came an entire flotilla of old-age pensioners, many on Zimmer frames, who proceeded to shuffle their way into the tent across the hard-core rubble underfoot. We discovered later that the organisers had forgotten to advertise the event anywhere (seriously??) and in desperation, had gone around to all the local Darby & Joan clubs a couple of days before handing out free tickets and laying on transport in order to have an audience.

So now we have 400-odd OAPs frantically fanning themselves with anything to hand as the temperature climbs ever higher. We start the show: everything’s going fine but the mercury in the thermometer I have strapped to the FOH rack is slowly going up and up: it’s so hot up at the sound desk that I’m down to my shorts!

By the end of Act 1, the temperature has gotten up to around 94°F and one could clearly see the old dears are in a bit of distress. Naturally, the organisers had neglected to provide water for the public, and judging by the horrified expressions of the two St John’s Ambulance first-aiders stationed either side of the stage, things were about to get a lot worse. I climbed off the tower, found the rigging crew and ordered the sides of the tent raised. No sooner had I done so than “our friend” standing nearby demanded that the sides stay down because "she was in charge" and "...her instructions were to be followed absolutely, no questions!"

It was at this juncture that diplomacy went completely out of the window. I informed her in no uncertain terms (and employing a fair amount of Anglo-Saxon vernacular) that it was in fact the crew who had the responsibility of ensuring the health and safety of all the people in the venue, not her, and that we have the legal authority to enact ANY procedure that we see fit at ANY time to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone present. I then informed her that I was now exercising my authority under The Health & Safety at Work Act 1974 to remediate the situation, and that if she made one single attempt to circumvent that authority, I would have her ejected from the venue without hesitation. She then got in my face and screamed, “I’M IN CHARGE!”. No strike one, no strike two, instant strike three!

I glanced over at two of our security crew who had been hovering in the background with huge shit-eating grins on their faces, who then stepped up either side of her. Defeated, but complaining like a banshee with a terminal case of haemorrhoids, she was escorted off the premises in short order.

By the time Act 2 kicked off, we’d gotten the temperature down to a more manageable low 70ºF, much to the appreciation of our audience, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch.

After the show, cast and crew—including our august star—repaired to the bar for a well-earned drink. Moments later, you-know-who appeared and in imperious tones informed us that our star was to be the guest of honour at a VIP reception for the various Docklands' bigwigs. With a tinge of regret for having our fun curtailed prematurely, we said our goodbyes to our star.

Now it gets interesting!

Not ten minutes later, she storms back into the beer tent with a face like absolute thunder. Taken somewhat aback by her reappearance, we enquired as to why she had returned.

“That fucking woman! She drags me off to this so-called ‘VIP party’: I get there and all that’s there are two fucking plates of curled-up ham sandwiches and two fucking boxes of cheap wine from Sainsburys! How the holy fuck did she get this job?

“I gave her a right bloody earful and came back here because I’d much rather drink with you guys!”

At which point she calls the barman over and orders a round for the entire crew. We spend the rest of the evening chatting away like old friends: she regaled us with stories of her life, and she was gracious enough to listen to some of ours. Despite us trying to buy her a drink, she refused point-blank and picked up the entire bar tab for the rest of the evening on the basis that “…you’ve had to put up with that fucking evil bitch all week: the least I can do get you folks a drink!”

All good things must come to an end and at the end of the evening, her chauffeur turns up to take her home. She embraces all of us as old friends: she hugs me, plants a big kiss on my lips and thanks me, whereupon I comment, “you have just fulfilled a boyhood dream!” Again, that uproarious laugh! She looks at me and says, “Don’t let that fucking bitch get you down! Leave it to me…”

I later discovered through the back-channels some weeks later that our bête-noir had been fired from her five-figure job for her monstrous screw-up, primarily because our star’s agent had ripped the organisers a new one in very short order; you do NOT fuck with someone of our star’s track record without there being consequences. So, although we were not directly responsible for The Harridan’s demise, we were gratified to have someone of our star’s calibre standing up for us.

Revenge is a dish best served cold!

Edit: corrected °C for °F.

(source) story by (/u/GhostOfSorabji)

#prorevenge #by /u/GhostOfSorabji #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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damagedsmile · 4 years

Text

Info regarding how J operates his criminal activities within his gang; I take much influence here from both the Arkham City game & the fundamentals of real-life organised crime while hoping I give no disrespect to that sort of business & the individuals whom work within it.

Background: J operates his business mainly out of his home, the Steel Mill (formerly owned by Roman Sionis). This is where his Boys congregate before work, generally hang out, & it is mainly dedicated to work with a small part of it actually kept private & made in to a home of sorts for J. J also works with devising chemical weapons of chaos / torturing foes within the basement. The other place he uses as a board room of sorts is his private booth within the luxury lap-dancing club he owns, called the Smile & Grin. His actual business dealings - when he’s not causing chaos - involve protection rackets around his turf, drug selling/smuggling, &; bomb or arms selling/smuggling. On occasion he dabbles within the Black market through established connections.

J looks for four things in his potential employees as follows:

1. A history of mental illness, preferably with violent leanings

2. A criminal record, petty crime is okay but 1st/2nd degree major crimes are desirable

3. Possible skills &/or connections pertaining to the world of organised crime, or previous knowledge of working in organised crime

4. A penis

The mental illness is a necessity as J is more than aware that only the ‘craziest’ thugs would have the guts to do as he bids & obey him but aside from that there are more personal reasons, such as believing he is helping those he employs as it is highly unlikely they will be considered employable by others.

A criminal record is pretty self-explanatory; he doesn’t want to hire on somebody green who turns out to be a pacifist or who has a moral compass pointing due north.

The third criteria is simply a matter of value. Do you have any particular skills to bring to the table or are you just a thug who knows how to shoot? Is your cousin a notable Falcone or perhaps a drug-dealer who sells good shit? Have you done anything like this before & if so, how experienced are you?

And the final criteria may sound overly anti-feminist but in truth, that has nothing to do with it. J is an equalist – meaning he believes everyone regardless of gender (or non-gender), sexuality, etc etc deserve to all be treated exactly the same – but professionally, his opinions are obviously left at the door, for good reason.

J is a business-man at the end of the day & he means to run a tight ship. As such he looks to employ only the most eligible people he comes across & he will frequent himself with these people’s records: he is fully aware there are those among his crew who have a history of sexual assault or rape exclusively towards women. Would it really be wise then to employ a woman?

Second to this fact is that as a man, J is obviously aware how distracting women can be. He himself does not mix business with pleasure, as he sees it as an inflammatory accident waiting to happen: no one wants to get shot because they were busy oogling the woman at their side. Hence why J rarely has Harley around when he is planning offences or speaking with his crew.

Not saying J would never employ a woman to work for him – he has no problem outsourcing female “help” for some jobs – but it would take some thought.

Also, it is an unspoken rule within the ranks that a mask should be worn, even when just hanging around the Steel Mill, but particularly when outside; this mask is chosen by the wearer & often designed with paint etc etc, perhaps chosen specifically as a reflection of their personality. Main reason for wearing a mask is that when operating around Gotham, anonymity is the best policy & a mask helps with intimidation. Of course if a crew member did not care for remaining unknown, a mask does not have to be worn at all.

Let us be frank here because you all know me to carry an amount of realism in my threads: working in organised crime is not a game. It’s a job at the end of the day & a very dangerous one at which I do not condone. Working in a gang is not simply a matter of ‘I like to kill people so I should be with you guys’. You get in based on your trustworthiness, capability, & achievements. It’s not all glamour & respect unless you happen to be a ‘made man’ like J, in which case you’re the boss and you reap all the rewards.

Depending how far along you are in the gang hierarchy, you will be expected to kill & torture people from all walks of life. One day it may be another underling from a rival gang, it could be a pimp who has useful information, it could be one of your best friends who’s become a snitch, or it could even be an innocent citizen who is simply mixed up with the wrong crowd. Working with J guarantees these things and it also guarantees you will also be dipping your feet in to the world of terrorism. You can expect the rest of your duties will be similar to police work in that you will be chasing down leads or suspicious persons, defending your territory & those within it (who pay you for protection), hiding/recovering evidence, & you will be reporting to someone above your station who will put you in your place if you get out of line – namely J.

You will not receive thanks. You may receive bonuses but never thanks. You will not be coddled. You will not be waited on. You have to be tough & you must represent J well. You’re expected to live up to a certain standard & there are rules to follow. Remember you are working for the Joker: one false move, you’re dead. Even if J just has a bad day & you happen to smile at him, you’re dead. Let us not forget either you are risking your life & the lives of those you love. You are risking imprisonment.

Why am I mentioning these things? You can guarantee that if your character were to thread with mine in a crew scenario (a popular idea), you would be faced with some potentially harsh stuff along the lines of what I’ve just written – they are examples of what you can expect within a crew thread or what you can expect to be mentioned in passing paragraphs. I don’t want anybody thinking J or I are being jerks for no reason or anything: there are reasons, which have been outlined. Of course these examples may never be completely explored in a thread (or even multiples of threads) yet you can guarantee at least one aspect will come along for plot purposes & if your character is the type who would balk at such details or possibly suffer with a moral dilemma, it’s better we don’t waste time then with this sort of plot. If you seek to forge a relationship through this sort of plot, please don’t. It has only ever worked out that way once & it was not planned by me nor the other mun involved.

Do not expect J to care if your character can shoot fireballs out their ass while singing the national anthem (I would be impressed with this but I am not my character). Do not expect him to run up to your character & demand they join his crew without first assessing the situation. Do not expect him to fall in love with yours just because they love to kill. Do not expect him to tolerate your character disrespecting him specifically in a boss-employee situation. Do not expect your character to automatically be made J’s right-hand man (like Jonny Frost).

#hc #these sorta plots happened in the past & never went well #bare the once but it was unplanned #too many peeps seem to think their muse is entitled to a place beside J while at the same time thinking they can work for him #& disrespect him constantly #i mean do you walk into work & treat your boss like shit & actually believe this is ok?#hey boss hey employee today i need you to do x y z #fuck you boss i wont do what you tell me #ok youre fired then bye

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jimintykookies · 5 years

Text

Pairing: hoseok x female reader

Genre: phoenix!AU, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: intercourse, oral (male and female), loss of virginity (female), major character death (non-descriptive)

A/N: Here it is, my first fic on this account. I’m so excited to debut my writing on here and even more excited to do it as part of a collab full of wonderful writers (many of whom I look up to). If you would like to check out their contributions to Cryptaesthesia, the link is here. I hope you enjoy and please, please, please leave feedback. Love ya!!

“Don’t forget to remind your parents about the conferences.”

You watched fondly as your hoard of kindergartners ran off to greet their respected parent or guardian. Your smile widened, quietly observing them excitedly explaining the events of their day. You loved your job and you loved your kids. Each one was special in their own unique way: Ella built towers with anything she could get her hands on, Lucas was the master painter and Bianca and Taylor were the Double Dutch queens.

You were familiar with most of the parents as well. There was the group of ‘Mean Girl’ moms who actively shamed anyone who gave their kids so much as a cookie. Rachel and Elliot Kasper were the young, dreamy couple who were so in love it was disgusting. Mrs. Wells was the Master of the Bake Sales, who made the best chocolate chip cookies you’d ever had. And then there was Kim Taehyung: the hot single dad with eyes of honey and a heart of gold. He had moved to the states a few years ago with his daughter Jisoo, and you couldn’t exactly blame the moms who would swoon over him at PTA meetings. Between his caramel hair, puppy dog eyes and a jawline that could cut diamonds, no one could blame you for harboring a little crush on him. It didn’t help that the sound of “Miss. Y/N” rolling of his tongue was enough for your panties to become ruined. How can someone’s voice be deeper than the Pacific ocean?

Your eyes quickly found him as they ran over the school courtyard. He was crouched beside Jisoo, golden skin glistening in the early May sun, lips stretched into a large smile as he chatted with his daughter. You mentally cursed how good he looked in a plain black t-shirt, because no human should look that hot. And those arms, god those arms. You could barely breathe when his biceps flexed to pick Jisoo’s backpack.

You lingered in the courtyard until you were sure all your kids were gone before slowly dragging yourself back to your classroom. Due to school policy, you were required to stay for another hour before you could head home to your couch and a warm cup of tea. Doing your best to fill up the time, you stop by the teacher’s lounge to make yourself a cup of bland coffee, an important aid in making your way through grading thirty-two math tests. You loved to teach, but grading had to be one of the worst jobs on the planet. While your kids were wonderful, you couldn’t say the same about their handwriting. You had suffered through many a headache trying to decipher e’s from c’s and h’s from n’s.

Sure enough an hour later you were sitting at your desk rubbing your temples. Accompanying your growing headache was the familiar queasy stomach and empty chest. These phenomenons make up what you call the Feeling. The Feeling had plagued you since you were eight years old and you accidentally set your Barbie doll on fire.

For the most part, it had been a quiet Tuesday evening. Your parents had gotten into another fight, but that wasn’t exactly out of character at this point. You were alone in your room about to make Ken kiss the bride, when you heard a loud crash from the kitchen. You jumped at the sound, heart beating fast. Crashes often meant ugly fights and because of this, loud noises set off your fight or flight instincts. When you looked back at your doll, you found that your dear Barbie, along with your hand, were ablaze. Despite the fire, the burning sensation was nowhere to be found, and despite your surprise, you made no sound. Instead, you stared at the flames until your breathing and heartbeat slowed and the fire extinguished itself. The doll was a melted, black mess, but your hand was otherwise untouched.

That was the first of many times you accidentally set something on ire. Byt the time you were eleve, your pyrokinetic abilities were somewhat under control. As far as you were aware, nobody else knew about it and that was the way you wanted it to stay. However, your control over your flame had a direct relationship with the Feeling. As your control grew, the Feeling grew in tandem. You don’t know exactly how to describe the Feeling, but the closest you had ever come was it felt like you were missing the other half of your soul. At first, it was just a lonely thought it the back of your mind, but as you matured, it became more physical and more distracting. It was a dull ache most of the time and just enough distraction would make you forget about it, but some days it screamed at you, making it hard to focus on work and at its worst, leave you bedridden. You were to afraid to go to a doctor because while you didn’t know the exact cause, you were fairly certain that it was connected to your powers and you weren’t in the mood to become some lab experiment.

Today it hadn’t been too bad, but without proper distraction, it still bugged you. You had found over the years that peppermint tea eased the feeling a bit, so you found yourself once again in the teacher’s lounge, boiling a steaming cup. You were in the middle of stirring in some honey, when Kim Namjoon, the vice principal, approached you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiled fondly at you.

“Hey, Namjoon, what’s up?”

You liked Namjoon. Not romantically, but as a person. He was intelligent, funny and genuinely cared about both the staff and the kids. He had amazing ideas about how to make the students learning simultaneously more fun and more immersive, all while providing constant support for the teachers. He would make a much better principal then Min Jinsoo, who only liked his job for his pay.

“I got your field trip approved.”

A few weeks ago you had sent in a request for a field trip to a local dance studio that offered classes about movement for younger children. You were currently leading a unit on health and exercise and you figured this would be a great way to get the kids out of the classroom. When you had told Namjoon about your idea, he had immediately been on board. However, Jinsoo was an absolute stinge, and rarely granted field trip requests. This time, however, you seemed to have gotten lucky.

“Really? That’s great. What did you have to bribe Min with this time?”

“Bribery? Don’t you know who I am? I charmed him with my outstanding rhetoric.”

You raised an eyebrow. He sighed.

“Free coffee for a month.”

“Jesus, Joon, you didn’t have to do that!”

“A ‘thanks’ would have been sufficient.”

“Well, thank you. This will really mean a lot to the kids. We haven’t gone on a field trip since October.”

“No problem. You know the kid’s education is the most important thing to me.”

“I do, but we both know how expensive Jung’s prefered coffee is.”

“I never promised him that. If you think I am bringing anything other than that gas station shit, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Well, thanks still. Anyway, I better get going. I have a crap load of tests to grade. As much as I love these kids, their handwriting is really something else.”

“Aish, I know. Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Kim.”

An hour later, you’re finally done with checking the tests and entering the scores into the gradebook. You pack up your stuff, grab your coat and keys and head out to your car. The one positive about staying behind to grade tests, is that it means you miss rush hour. Instead of an hour, your drive home only takes thirty minutes. However, by the time you make it home, the Feeling begins to take over. You immediately make yourself another cup of peppermint tea before curling up on the couch and putting a show on Netflix. You can’t really focus on the plot though, because the Feeling is slowly taking over all of your senses. You hated when it got like this: all consuming, demanding that you pay attention to it. What you hated most is that there was no way for you to fix it. For all you knew, you would spend the rest of your life like this and if the pattern continued, it would only get worse.

You ended up giving up on watching the show and instead making yourself a light dinner before going to bed at six-thirty. You don’t fall asleep for a long time, tears streaming down your face as you longed for someone to comfort you, to tell you it was okay. When you can no longer keep your eyes open, you fall into a dreamless slumber.

HOSEOK POV

“One and two and three and four and…” Hoseok had long cutout Jimin’s counting, his only focus being his body and the music.

He loved the feeling of the solid, hardwood dance floor beneath his feet. With each step he felt more alive and he could feel a rush of energy run through him every time he breathed in. He threw his body into every leap, every step, every beat. Dance was his life and he communicated that with his movement.

He got so caught up in dancing that he hadn’t realized that Jimin had stopped moving. One second he was flying through the air and the next he was colliding with Jimin’s hard body before falling to the floor. He put his hand out to catch himself, but his weight was too much for his wrist and he cried out as sharp pain shot up his arm.

“Fuck, Hobi, are you okay?”

Jimin was immediately hovering over him, as he rolled on the floor clutching his wrist.

“Ahh, shit it hurts.”

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Do you need painkillers? Ice?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just help me up.”

Using his good hand, Jimin lifted him to his feet and helped him hobble to the front desk where they kept a mini-fridge with ice. He hissed when he felt the cold against his now swollen wrist.

“Are you sure your fine?” Jimin’s voice was shaking with worry.

“I’ll be alright. Go back to dancing, I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jimin cast him a worried glance, but listened to him anyway. As soon as Jimin was gone, Hoseok channeled the energy that was always bubbling in his core to spread out down to his arm. He sighed in relief as the swelling went down. He became so relaxed, that he didn’t notice that he had set fire to the towel he had wrapped around the ice.

“Fuck. Shit. Goddammit.”

He quickly beat out the flame before throwing the towel in the trash, hoping no one would notice it. It wasn’t the first time he had accidentally set something on fire and he doubted it would be the last. Ever since he was eight years old, he had been setting random things aflame. Lucky for him, the only person who had ever caught him was his school’s druggie. The kid had blabbered to everyone on campus about Hoseok’s powers but every had passed it off as an LSD induced hallucination. Despite having them for his entire life, he had no idea where his powers came from, he just knew that they were accompanied by the strangest ache he had ever felt.

He waited a couple more minutes before heading back into the dance studio. Jimin had just finished running through the song again and was brushing the sweat from his forehead.

When he saw Hoseok, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Hey, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be icing that?”

“It’s fine, just some temporary pain. I’m good. Should we run it again?”

“Actually, we have some kids from a local school coming in in a couple days. I was hoping you could teach it because it’s my parent’s 50th anniversary and I have to help with the party.”

“Uh, sure. How old are they?”

“Around five or six. Kindergartners.”

“Aww, just little kiddos.”

Hoseok had always had a soft spot for little ones. They were always so adorable, prancing around the studio, attempting to follow his instructions.

“Yeah, it’s a field trip from the local school. I think you’ll really like the teacher. She’s hot.”

Jimin sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes in response. Over the years, Hoseok had found himself perpetually single. Don’t get him wrong, he had got his dick wet plenty of times, but every relationship he had found himself in felt suffocating. Jimin, however, was a hopeless romantic and made it his life mission to find the girl of Hoseok’s dreams. This teacher was only one of the billion that Jimin had tried to set him up with and he doubted this one would be any different from the rest. Still, there was a part of him that hoped that she might fix the hole that was becoming more and more obvious every day.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. You had never felt this good in your entire life. You had just stepped into the dance studio to meet the instructor for your class, normal procedure. However, as soon as his hand clasped yours in a friendly shake, it felt like your entire body was healed. You almost jumped in surprise at the sensation and it took you a solid minute to recuperate from the shock. Throughout the class you found yourself trying to find ways to get as close to him as possible: the nearer you were, the more euphoric you felt. The hole that had began to become unbearable the last couple days, was suddenly gone. During the lunch break, you found yourself talking to him. The conversation was easy, and while you normally felt anxious around guys, you felt completely safe around Hoseok. He was handsome, a good dancer, and the absolute sweetest around the kids. You prayed to god he was single, because you weren’t sure you would be able to handle of the pain of him having a girlfriend. You dreaded having to leave. You didn’t know if you would ever feel like this again.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. You almost wanted to cry during your departure, but instead were forced to help manage your small children. When you shook his hand in goodbye, you felt a small piece of paper being passed to you. When you glanced at it, you were elated to see the ten digits scrawled in blue ink. You couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face and when you glanced back up at him, you burst out laughing at his cheesy wink. You didn’t notice your scarf in a crumpled heap in the corner of the dance studio, but Hoseok certainly did.

You at in your desk chair, lazily swinging back and forth, while you debated whether or not you should text him. You hadn’t had much dating experience in your life (read: none at all) and the last thing you wanted was to come off as too eager. That being said, you were eager to see him again. You longed to feel the comfortable ease that came with being around him and his gorgeous smile. You began to swirl into an anxious spiral, mind switching back and forth to the point that you felt a headache begin to form. You were so deep in your thoughts, that you didn’t hear the knock on the door or see Hoseok walk in.

You glanced up in surprise, “Oh...what are you doing here?”

He broke into a gentle smile as your tongue tripped over itself, which in turn made you smile as well. Just him being in the room made your mind calm and your anxiety quell. That all disappeared when you noticed the scarf, your scarf, in his hand. You come to the fast and disappointing realisation that he is not there for you, but simply to return your belonging.

“I’m here to return this...”

His voice was soft and unsteady, breath quick. He almost seemed nervous.

“...andtoaskyouonadate.”

He spit the words out so fast, it took you a moment to comprehend what he had just said. When the realisation did hit you, you opened your mouth before closing it in complete disbelief.

“I..well..um..you wanna go on a date? With me?” You couldn’t keep the disbelief out of your voice.

“Well..uh..yeah. Ya know..if that is something you would like?”

It was a good thing no one else was there to see you because you were both a blushing mess. Hoseok hadn’t actually gone a date with a girl in years (he was pretty sure casual one night stands didn’t count as dates) and you had never been on a date at all. You hadn’t even had your first kiss.

“I would like that...a date..that...we should do.”

Your nervousness seemed to cure him of his, as he burst out in the cutest giggle you had ever heard (keep in mind you work with five year olds).

“Thank god, if you had said no, I swear I would’ve died.”

You smile, the butterflies in your stomach still fluttering, but no longer preventing you from being a coherent human being.

“I’m just happy you’re not just here to return the scarf.”

“I’m happy you left it so I had an excuse to see you again.”

You giggled.

“So how does dinner and a movie next Saturday sound?”

“It sounds just perfect.”

“Well I should probably go, it’s Jimin’s birthday and if I don’t pick up the alcohol for his party, I don’t know if you will ever see me again.”

“Well then you better go, I don’t want a missing man as my date. Text me the details?”

“Sounds good.”

Time goes by slower than you would like, but now Hoseok texts you daily and that keeps your impatience at bay. By the time Saturday evening rolls around, you are a chaotic mess, trying to figure out what to wear. You always thought it was stupid how much time and effort put into getting ready for these kinds of things, but now you fully understood the pressure of trying not to look like you tried too hard, but also like you tried a little. Society is stupid like that. By the time you were walking out the door, you had spent nearly three hours on your hair, makeup and outfit, and you swore to god if the date went well, Hoseok was going to have to deal with you being a mess from now on.

You meet him at a new Mexican restaurant equidistant from both of your houses. You almost choked when you saw him, his usual attire consisting of sweatpants and loose tees replaced with a leather jacket and black skin-tight jeans. He looked god-level good and you wondered how soon you could get water because, goddamn, if you were going to get through this night you were going to need a lot of it.

As it turns out, despite his “bad boy” outfit, Hoseok was the perfect gentlemen. He held the door open, offered to take your jacket, and pulled out your chair for you. Just like the other day at the dance studio, conversation with him was as easy as it had ever been. You felt completely relaxed, and despite your generally closed off ways, you were willing to be completely vulnerable. It was simple and easy and you didn’t have to think about anything.

Everything was going great until you left the restaurant to walk to the nearby movie theater. You were halfway there when you ran into the one person you would pay money to never have to speak to again: Jeon Jungkook, your high school crush.

You and Jungkook had been in the same friend group in high school and were actually fairly close. You had spent many a night helping his piss drunk ass home and sobering him up so his father wouldn’t get mad and beat him again. You grew closer as more and more of your friends either graduated or became self-righteous jerks and by the end of your junior year, you considered him to be your best friend.

But then something changed. Jungkook grew distant within a matter of weeks, only talking to you when absolutely necessary. You were left heartbroken and confused, but when you tried confront him on the matter, he left you with more questions, then he answered. You later learned that he had found out about your little crush on him and instead of handling it like a mature human being, he ditched you out of embarrassment for your “pitiful ass” (his words apparently).

“Oh hey.”

Hey. Those were the first word to you in ten years, after abandoning you when he was all you had left. You glared at him, hand tightening around Hoseok’s.

“Hey.”

Your voice was quiet. You didn’t know what Jungkook wanted, but that didn’t stop you from being terrified that he would say something to make Hoseok never want to talk to you again. You were so happy for the first time in your life, and here was the one person who might just ruin it for you.

“Who’s this?”

Hoseok looked back and forth between you, clearly confused.

“This is my..uh..ex-friend, Jungkook.”

“Now that’s no way to introduce your best friend from high school.”

You hated that he looked so happy. That he was confident. You had wanted the world to rip him apart for what he did to you, but instead it seemed to only have built him up more.

“What do you want Jungkook?”

Despite your attempts to control it, you were sure both men could here the anger laced in your tone.

“Gosh, Y/N, I was just trying to be nice.”

“Oh, now you’re being nice? Maybe you should’ve tried that a couple years ago.”

This seemed to tick Jungkook off, his brows furrowing and his lips curling in a spiteful frown.

“Well sorry I didn’t want your pathetic ass trailing around behind me like a lost puppy.”

He turned to Hoseok.

“Let me give you some advice man, get out while you still can. She’s just an attention seeker and a clingy bitch. God, I can’t believe I was ever friends with you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and before Hoseok can say anything in response, you were bolting down the street in the direction of your home, not looking behind you once.

Over the next few weeks you ignore Hoseok’s calls and texts, too embarrassed to talk to him. Over the course of the next month, you flirt with Taehyung and he ends up asking you out. You agree. He was much more confident than Hoseok and even though you didn’t feel the same relief as you did when Hobi was around, you thought that maybe getting out into the dating world would help fill up the hole that had gotten worse since you stopped hanging out with Hoseok.

Taehyung picked you up at your apartment before driving you to mini-golf. Like Hoseok, he was a perfect gentleman and the conversation was easy, but you didn’t feel the connection you had before. After letting you beat him (even though he denied it ferociously), he took you to a quiet cafe near your home. You were talking quietly about various teaching methods when you saw him.

Hoseok look tired and distraught as he dodged the barista’s attempts to flirt with him. You tried to focus on your conversation, but your eyes kept wandering back to where he was standing, waiting for his coffee. He hadn’t seemed to notice you yet and it was a fact you were thankful for. Despite the fact that you weren’t interested in Taehyung romantically, you didn’t need yet another date ruined by a ghost from your past. However, you’re luck seemed to runout when his eyes glanced over you. You could see the exact moment he understood what he was looking at.

A look of determination came over him as he grabbed his drink before beelining straight towards your table.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring me?”

You flinched at his sudden harsh words and you would’ve paid a million dollars to get swallowed up by a giant hole right then and there. Tae looked at you, obviously confused. You gulped audibly before opening your mouth.

“Hi, Hoseok.” You heard your voice shake and your will to live shrunk even smaller.

“Just answer my goddamn question, Y/N.”

You looked apologetically at Taehyung, “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

He nods, still confused.

You grabbed Hoseok’s hand and drag him outside of the coffee shop before turning to really look at him for the first time since your date. You could now clearly see how unwell he was. His lips were chapped and the dark circles under his eyes made him look almost dead. Edward looked more alive than him.

“Well?”

His voice wasn’t annoyed, just exasperated.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him from under your eyelashes.

“That’s it?”

“No. I am really sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you, I was just embarrassed. Jungkook, the guy we ran into, I used to have a thing for him and he found out and he thought I was pathetic because of it so he stopped hanging out with me. I just didn’t want you to think about me the same way he did. I..I really like you, Hoseok and I didn’t want you to hurt me like he had.”

Hoseok stared at you blankly and you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to swarm with anxiety.

“Please say something.”

He looked at you in the eyes and you see his facial features begin to soften.

“I would never think of you as pathetic, Y/N. I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like it was even possible for me to think that. I really like you too, if you haven’t noticed and I haven’t felt this way about someone for a really long time. I just thought I had screwed up somehow, which, admittedly wouldn’t have been the first time. I just…”

You cut off his rambling by attaching your lips to his. He stood frozen in shock for a few moments before his brain registers what’s happening. He then begins to his move his mouth against yours. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you and your entire body relaxed into him. You don’t notice the heat at first, you are so consumed by the feeling of Hoseok’s lips on yours. The light is what drew your attention away from his mouth and to your arms, both of which were on fire.

You draw back in a panic, a yelp released from your mouth.

“Oh my god.”

You had set Hoseok on fire. You knew your powers would be a burden, but you had never imagined something like this would ever happen. By now, of course, Hoseok had noticed the flames too and was also in a state of panic.

“Oh shit. Oh my god, I set you on fire. Fuck, fuck fuck.”

“Wait, what?”

You pulled back.

“You set me on fire?”

Hoseok looked at you confused. It then came to both of your realisation that neither of you were screaming in pain, as one who was on fire would.

“Wait, can you…?” You looked up at Hoseok with bright eyes, “Can you light things on fire?”

Hoseok nodded slowly like he was afraid for the truth to come out. He looked down at the ground almost embarrassed.

“I can too.”

At that, his head snapped up and looked you straight in the eye.

“You’re lying.” His voice was rough, but you could hear a glimmer of hope in his undertone.

“I’m not. See.”

You lifted your hand and produced a small flame from your palm. As if in a trance, Hoseok’s own hand came out to brush the tip of the fire. When he deemed it harmless, he grasped your hand in his own and pulled you in for a hug.

“I’m not alone,” he whispers shakely.

His arms were tight around you and you once again were overwhelmed with feelings of comfort and belonging. After a long minute, he pulled away again, eyes glassy and lips curved into a shaky smile.

“Look, Y/N, I know that we haven’t known each other that long, but for the first time in my entire life, I feel like I belong somewhere and that somewhere is with you. So would you be willing to do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart open before nodding as tears began to trickle down your cheeks.

“Yes, Hoseok, I would love to.”

With that he pulled you in for a kiss, this one a bit more reckless and messy. You got caught up in how safe his arms felt and how euphoric your entire being was just because his lips were on yours. You never wanted the moment to end.

Eventually you pulled back when someone clears their throat. You find Taehyung standing outside the cafe door, looking a bit awkward.

“Uh, I’m gonna head out.”

“Oh god, Taehyung, I’m so sorry. This isn’t anything against you, I swear. You’re a really great guy-”

“It’s fine. Seriously. Look, I think your cute and I would have loved to date you, but just from looking at the two of you together, I can tell that he’s the one you should be with.”

A small smile graces your mouth at the comment.

“Thanks for being so understanding. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect girl out there somewhere.”

“Thanks. Have a great night, Y/N.”

“You too, Tae.”

With that he walks away, leaving you to sink into your new boyfriend’s arms.

You had never believed in fairytales and had a general distaste toward rom-coms. With your life being so bitter and lonely, you found it hard to believe anything close to the semblance of true love could be real. Hoseok completely flipped your world view. With him, everything was easier, lighter. If you were having troubles with work, he would be there to rant to and then take you to get a cup of coffee.

You had discussed your powers and found your experiences to remarkably similar: you both set things on fire at a young age, before gradually gaining control of it. You both had also experienced the missing feeling in your soul which had only grown with time, but most importantly, you both knew that that hole was gone as long as you were with each other.

Despite his disclaimer of not having a girlfriend since his junior year of high school, Hoseok went above and beyond in your relationship in ways that made you feel like you might be an inadequate girlfriend. The dates he planned were always fun and interesting but he also had an interesting knack for knowing when you just needed to stay in for the evening and watch movies while cuddling.

Somewhere along the line, the question of sex came in. You had barely kissed anyone before Hoseok, much less ever had sex and you were very embarrassed to admit this to him. He, however, was very understanding, and was willing to wait as long as you wanted.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he had said, “I would love to fuck you into high heavens right now, but I know that losing your virginity is scary and I don’t want you to feel any pressure whatsoever.”

You had felt much better after that and neither of you had touched the subject since. Before you knew it, you had almost been dating for a year. Your life had become the life you could only have dreamed of twelve months ago. Even Namjoon had mentioned how much happier you seemed.

You had gotten to know Hoseok’s friends as well and you often hung out as a group. You had grown especially close to Jimin, who was constantly trying to woo Hoseok’s other close friend, Yoongi.

“I just don’t understand,” he would complain to you, “I know he likes me, so why does he give me the cold shoulder all the time. We literally slept together. He had his dick inside me for fucks sake!”

“Maybe he’s just scared of commitment.”

“Scared of commitment my ass, what more could you need when you have my peach butt on demand 24/7.”

For your one year anniversary, Hoseok planned a picnic on the beach. You ate chinese takeout since neither of you could cook for shit and talked while watching the sun set over the ocean. After eating, you strolled along together, barefoot in the sand, hand in hand. You would playfully splash him with your foot and he would threaten to throw you into the chilly water. Your conversation was careless and free and your heart felt light. You wouldn’t have changed a thing, even for a million dollars. Eventually he stopped walking and pulled you to face him.

You looked up at him and giggled, but your smile dropped when you saw how serious he looked.

“What’s up?”

You felt your stomach sinking.

“I just wanted to take a moment to say how much you mean to me, Y/N. Before I met you, I didn’t even realise how shitty my life was. It was all grey and boring and sure there were times where I was happy but for the most part I was lonely and tired. And then you came in and you lit the entire thing up. The past year with you has by far been the best in my entire life. I feel so happy and free and like there isn’t a thing in the world that could change that. I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much and I just wanted you to know that.”

You felt the tears as they poured down your cheek. You were breathless, barely able to comprehend what he was saying.

“I love you too, Jung Hoseok.”

With that, he pulled you in for a kiss, his hands grasping your cheeks. His kissed you with such a ferocity that it felt like he was trying to transfer his soul into you. You were faintly aware of the fact that you were in public and that your bodies were probably catching on fire from the intensity, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. You just wanted to be consumed by Jung Hoseok.

You pulled away first when your lungs began to burn from the lack of air. Hoseok looked down with you and you would have to be blind not to see the pure adoration that filled his eyes.

“I have one more thing to ask.”

“Anything.”

“Will you move in with me?”

You don’t even think before nodding. And then you are kissing again. That’s when you realise you want him. All of him. You loved him and he loved you and there was no one else on the planet you would ever want to be with.

“Hoseok...I want to do it. Tonight.”

His gaze felt intense as his brown eyes met yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

“We’ve been together for a year and I love you so fucking much Jung Hoseok. There’s no one else in the entire world I would rather do it with.”

Once he realized that you were really serious about having sex with him, his entire demeanor changed. His eyes darkened and you giggled as he grabbed your hand dragging you back to the car.

“Eager much?”

“Look, I love you, but I haven’t had sex in like a year and a half. Forgive me if I am a bit excited to finally fuck the love of my life.”

You giggled again.

Despite his eagerness before, Hoseok insisted on taking it slow. Instead of pushing you up against the wall as soon as he closed the door like you had wished, he made you sit on the couch while he “got ready”. You let him, wondering what in the world he would possibly need to change in order to have sex. Maybe he was cleaning his dick. You giggled at the thought.

However, all traces of humor were erased when Hoseok guided you by the waist to his bedroom, only for you to find the room lit up with candle light.

“Sorry that there aren’t any rose petals, but I didn’t exactly have any forewarning so I hope this works.”

“Hoseok, this is perfect. You’re perfect. I love you so much.”

With that, his lips are once again on yours and you’re being pushed back until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto the plush mattress. Hoseok’s hand found your breast and he softly groped it, enticing a soft sigh from you. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Lewd smacking noises fill the room. Yearning to be closer to Hoseok’s solid body you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, and pulled him as close to you as possible.

Hoseok’s hand moved from your tit, and traveled to the hem of your sundress, where he began to draw small, teasing circles. You arched your back into him, a small moan slipping out of your mouth. His erection is pressed against your thigh, and you feel a small bubble of pride swell up in you. You had spent so much of your life doubting how you look and how you act, but here you were with a man who found you overwhelmingly attractive and on top of it, loved you with the depths of his soul.

You soon pulled away from the soft comforts of his mouth, only to tug at the hem his t-shirt before he gets the hint and removes the offensive fabric. You had seen Hoseok shirtless many times before, when he was swimming or dancing or during one of your many make-out sessions, but his broad shoulders and tight abs never failed to make you clench your thighs to together.

Hoseok noticed your stare and chuckled.

“As much as I appreciate you appreciating me, I think it’s only fair that you remove a little something too, princess.”

You felt your core tighten at the pet name, and you found yourself eagerly shrugging the dress over your head before you threw it off the bed to join Hoseok’s shirt. Your simple lace bralette and lavender cotton underwear weren’t exactly the sexiest lingerie one could wear, but the dark look in Hoseok’s eyes could have fooled you.

Then he was crawling back over you, lips attached to the side of your neck as he helplessly rutted down on your thigh. Your threw your head back in a moan when he bit down on a particular sensitive spot near the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Expletives fell from your lips as pleasure clouded your mind and you felt the wetness in your panties soak through the flimsy material.

One of Hoseok’s callused hands managed to make its way down your side before it resumed its place on the inside of your thigh. This time he moved them slowly upwards until you could swear you could feel the heat of his fingertips through your underwear. He lightly pressed on your clit, testing the waters before your soft gasp led him to add more pressure, rubbing in gentle circles. You whined at the motion, the unfamiliar feeling of someone else touching you there sent you into a heated frenzy.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

The low timbre of Hoseok’s voice rendered you speechless and you could only whine in response. He pushed the cotton aside before he continued his previous motions. The direct contact almost felt too much, your nerve endings on fire. Your fingernails dug into the bare skin of Hoseok’s back and he let out a low growl in response. He removed his fingers from your core, leaving you a whimpering mess in his wake. His fingers found their way to the clasp of your bra before swiftly undoing it. The moment the garment left your body, insecurity flowed through you. You resisted the urge to cover up your exposed chest with your arms. Hoseok seemed to notice the doubt in your eyes and in response, smiled down at you.

“It’s okay, princess. You’re fucking perfect. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

His words soothed you and you relaxed as his palm slowly grazed against the side of your breast. You felt his lips slowly kiss down your chest before wrapping around your nipple. The sensation was completely foreign to you and your brain completely blanked as his warm tongue delivered soft licks. His fingers came to pinch the other nipple and you let out a high pitched moan in surprise.

He soon abandoned you breasts in favor of kissing down your abdomen. Your skin tingle and his touch only served to further electrify you. Upon reaching the hem of your panties, he kissed around the edge of the band before he grasped it with his teeth. Your lustful gaze followed him as he drug the fabric down your legs at an infuriating pace. Once the underwear had joined the ever growing pile of clothes, his lips attached themselves to the inside of your thighs, leaving small, deliberate bites that you were sure would become purple marks by morning. He moved himself to comfortably sit between your legs before glancing up at you with dark eyes.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You whine.

“Yes, it’s fine, just please touch me.”

Permission granted, he dove in, taking a tentative lick, before the soft lips that you loved so much wrapped around your clit. He moaned at the taste and you threw your head back, unable to comprehend how you got so lucky as to have this beautiful man, laying before you, eating you out like there wasn’t a finer meal in the world.

“Princess, you taste like honey. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me all these months.”

Words failed you and you responded by clenching your thighs around his head, trying to bring him closer to you. Your eyes shot open when you felt the tip of his finger gently prod at your entrance, before he slowly slipped inside. You looked down to find him gazing at you intently, trying to gage your reaction. You gave a small nod of encouragement before leaning back into the pillow. Hoseok’s finger grazed your walls just the right way and you began to feel the start of a knot forming in your lower belly.

When he deemed you ready, he slipped in a second finger to join the first and this time the stretch was a bit more painful. Once you adjusted, pleasure sang through your body and the knot began to tighten.

“Hoseok,” you eked out, “I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, baby? Well then go ahead, let it go.”

It took only a couple more well aimed thrusts of his fingers, before your core tightened around him and white hot euphoria blinded you. If you were anymore coherent, you might have been worried about his neighbors hearing your scream, but your mind is instead a foggy mess and the only thing you could think about is how much you want him inside your pussy.

After you recovered, you dragged Hoseok up to meet his lips with your own, while your hands traveled down to his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. You reached your hand into his boxers to give him a few encouraging strokes, to find him nearly fully hard. He eagerly pushed down his tight jeans and taking his underwear off with them.

“Are you one hundred percent sure about this?”

“A thousand.”

With that, he reached up to grab a condom from his bedside drawer and quickly rolled it on. You felt him line up with you and you began to feel a little nervous. Would it hurt? How much and for how long? Hoseok catched your apprehension, and reached up to gently caress your cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay love. I’ll go slow and if it hurts just let me know. It’s all about communication.”

You nodded, your nerves calmed a little. True to his word, he pushed in slowly. The stretch was indeed painful and you winced slightly at the sting. Hoseok’s hand never left your cheek, wiping away the couple tears that fell. Once he was fully seated inside you, he stopped.

“Let me know when I can move. Take all the time in the world.”

“Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you and you stay like that for a few minutes: his lips on yours, his cock connecting you in the most intimate way possible. There was a magical feeling to it, like all the stars in the heavens had aligned in just the right way. Everything felt perfect and you never wanted to leave his bed ever again.

Eventually, the painful stretch turned into a dull burn and you gave him the go ahead to move. He started slowly, thrusts steady and strong. You let out little moans as the rest of the ache fades into a delicious pleasure. The feeling seems to be catching up to Hoseok too, because he began to lose his rhythm, releasing little groans along the way.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good. I never wanna leave your pussy, baby.”

“Hoseok, shit, keep going. Faster, baby, faster.”

He heeded your demand and his thrusts speed up, leaving you a mess underneath him. All you could do was moan, nails digging into his back. Your feet locked around his waist in an a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you. Your cries were getting louder and his grunts had turned into moans. The knot once again began to form in your abdomen.

“Fuck, Hoseok, I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Me too, princess, me too. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Neither of you noticed the fire beginning to burn, too caught up in your embrace. It started in your hands and moved up your arms and to your chest. The heat from the flames only fueled your pleasure, your sea of euphoria drawing back to form the tsunami that is your approaching orgasm. Hoseok’s thrusts began to stutter, balls tightening, moans reaching their peak crescendo.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Come with me, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…”

With that your both reach your peak, your pussy clamped down on him while he filled the condom. The flames intensified, as if your climax was their own personal brand of fuel. The euphoria that washed through both of your minds is so intense that you can’t even remember your own names. As the waves begin to calm, all you can think of is Hoseok before your mind faded to black.

You blink awake only to be greeted with harsh white light. You couldn’t remember much, other than passing out after having the best orgasm of your life. You quickly come to the realization that you are no longer in Hoseok’s bed or even his apartment. Instead, you are sitting in a plush chair, that is not entirely unlike a throne. The floral sundress you were wearing at the beach is replaced with what you can only describe as the most luxurious sheet you have ever felt forming a makeshift toga of sorts.

What the hell? you think.

As your eyes finally adjust more fully to light, you find that Hoseok is sitting next you in a chair and donning a toga similar to your own. The chairs are placed at a grand marble table which is in the center of grand marble room. The roof seems to be made of glass and behind it, the source of the blinding light shines through. Across from you sits a being, who seems not to ascribe to gender but rather transcends it to become (objectively) the most beautiful human being you have ever seen.

Hobi is the first to speak, as you are too lost to form words.

“Where the fuck are we?”

The being across from you chuckles at his question, mouth opening to show glowing white teeth.

“Ah, such harsh words. I forget how crass the human mind is. You are in what I like to call a transitional space.”

“A what?”

This time it is you who asks the question.

“A transitional space.”

“Transition between what?”

Despite your question, you’re beginning to feel a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Between this life and the next. This room exists only for us to talk and once you leave, it will never exist again.”

“Wait, go back. What were you saying about our lives?”

Judging by the look on his face, Hoseok is slowly coming to the same conclusion that you have.

“You, my loves, are dead. During the final moments of your consummation of your love, the fire that burned quietly in your soul for the duration of your life finally consumed you and left you as nothing but ashes on white sheets.”

And there it was. You were dead. You had no idea why and you had no idea who this person or thing was, but something told you that this was part of something much bigger than you would’ve ever imagined.

“And who are you?”

Hoseok looks surprisingly resigned. During the course of your relationship, you had noticed that Hoseok didn’t take well to drastic change, yet here in this room, facing the most drastic change of all, he didn’t even bother to frown.

“I am Fatum, better know to you English speakers as Fate. And you are my children.”

Both of your eyes go wide. Fate looks calmly back at you and you become faintly aware that their irises slowly change color like the colorful LED lights on Hoseok’s car stereo.

“You and your deaths are part of a saga that has been drawn out over many eons. Once long ago, I had a lover, Ordo. They were my single purpose in life, the focus of all my energy. But sadly, good things rarely last forever in this universe, and they ended up betraying me. I had no choice but to destroy them. Instead of getting rid of them completely, I took their soul, combined it with a part of mine and split it in two. Those two new souls are you.

“You became my pride and joy and slowly the pain I felt about Ordo’s loss was replaced with my abundance of love for you. In fact, I became so attached to you that I made it impossible for your souls to ever be destroyed, even by me. But then you grew older. You became wary of me and began to act out. In the end, you followed in Ordo’s footsteps betraying me and my work for the good of the universe.

“This time, however, I could not destroy you like I had with Ordo. My blind adoration for you prevented that and so I cursed you instead. For the past several eons, you have been cast onto Earth in the form of humans. Since you are technically the same soul split into two bodies, separation for long periods of time is quite emotionally draining. Lucky for you, I cursed you so that you would eventually find each other and in the presence of your other half, find the most euphoric happiness ever known.”

“Excuse me if I don’t understand how that would be considered a curse?”

Fatum turns to face you and you shiver as his eyes seem to bore through your soul, the very one he supposedly created.

“Well, you see my love, your happiness has a...let’s call it an expiration date. Humans, the silly things, always seem to succumb to intercourse when they discover who they believe to be the love of their lives. You two are certainly no exception. Your curse comes in the form of death during the...uh...climax of your first time together. You then come back here to meet me, where I have explained this story to you a thousand times over.”

“And then what?”

“And then, Hoseok, I send you back to Earth to reborn yet again as another human only to live out the same fate.”

Fatum chuckles at their own joke.

“What about the fire?”

“The fire, my dear, is the only part of your former form that you retain. Before taking the form of an infinite number of humans, you were what you people call phoenixes. Your fire resides in your soul, which you know I cannot touch. In fact, that is where I got the inspiration for your curse. You know, the whole bursting into flames before being reborn schtick.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know. What now?”

Hoseok seemed to be getting impatient with Fatum’s long story. He wasn’t good at sitting still for long periods of time and you had been sitting here for, well, you didn’t exactly know, time was somewhat elusive in this interdimensional space, but it seemed like very long.

“You get reborn obviously.”

The smile Fatum offered looked like an attempt offer a kind reprieve to the crazy story that had been forced down your throat, but it came off as chilling and a shiver was sent down your spine as a result. And then the world faded to black once more.

The fall air was chilly and you were forever grateful for warmed air of the local cafe. It was mid-October and the weather had just begun to cool off from the intense heat leftover from summer, but the mornings were just nippy enough to make you reach for an extra jacket and scarf.

Despite being seven-thirty on a Saturday morning, there was still a bit of line, and you distracted yourself by looking around the quiet cafe you had come to love. Now in your second year of college, you found that the atmosphere provided the peace you needed to study, unlike the library near your dorm. Despite strict rules to keep the noise down, there was always someone breaking them.

You finally made it to the front of the line, only to be greeted by an unfamiliar face. You frequented the place enough to know all the staff, yet before you stood a boyishly, handsome man with the brightest smile you had ever scene. Something about him struck you as familiar, but you brushed off the feeling, dismissing it as your intuition going crazy from lack of sleep.

“Hi,” he greeted you, “I’m Hoseok, what can I get for ya?”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. Please feel free to leave feedback. My inbox is always open to anyone. If you would like to help me determine where I head from here in terms of writing, here's a link to a survey. Thanks for reading.

#bts #hoseok #smut #angst #fanfic #oneshot #jhope #jung hoseok #hobi

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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Tbh, my policy on pirating is pretty simple. I honestly dont give a fuck one way or another w/movies, TV shows and even comic books, bc the former two have managed to account for pirating in the way they pad their expenses and tbqh they dont really hurt for it. And with comic books, okay if you pirate indie or creator owned content you kinda suck, not gonna lie, you have NO idea the kind of effort and upfront costs that go into producing comic books without Marvel or DC backing you up, not until you actually try it. Its obscene. Especially if you’re not able to do all the art AND story AND inking/lettering/coloring yourself, and have to either pay other members of your self-assembled creative team upfront or on the backend.

And this includes comic books published by Image (at least the ones without big name creators attached), because contrary to popular belief, Image has nothing to do with assembling the creative teams of most of their creator owned books, and they certainly don’t pay them any kind of wages or salaries. The way Image is set up is creators basically submit a complete first issue, all the art, inking, lettering, coloring, everything already done, to see if they’re interested in publishing.

(Technically, you only have to submit the first eight pages in order to get a response, and theoretically its possible that Image has in the past greenlit books based on the first eight pages of the book, which then allows the creators some leverage in convincing the entirety of their creative team to put in the upfront work to complete the rest of the first issue still without payment, but at least trusting now that their work will see publication, but like, this doesn’t really happen much from anything I’ve ever seen or heard or experienced).

Anyway, point being, Image takes submissions and then greenlights the books they see as potentially profitable, but again....they in no way ever pay creators themselves. Creators only make money via the actual sales of their books, once published and distributed by Image...and only AFTER Image takes their cut, which is a flat fee deducted from the sales of individual issues. Its actually a good thing in some ways, that they only take a flat fee (their cut is for publishing and distribution costs, Image NEVER owns any part of the intellectual property they publish, unless they’re part of their ‘shared Image universe’ which tbh is just like, publisher Erik Larsen’s little sandbox for him and his friends and who even cares, those books suck, Savage Dragon is lame, Erik, and everyone knows Shadowhawk was a blatant rip-off of Darkhawk, and look, I love Darkhawk with all my New Warriors fanboying heart, but of all the characters in the world to rip-off, who the fuck considers Darkhawk worth being derivative of? So weird. BUT I DIGRESS. ANYWAY.)

So in some senses the fact that they only ever take a flat rate is good, because in the rare cases of runaway books that really take off, the way Invincible and The Walking Dead were back when Robert Kirkman was still a no-name indie creator, like...the creator has the potential to make BANK. Which is exactly what Kirkman did, and why he’s now every-fucking-where, ruining all our other faves like who the fuck thought HIM producing a Chronicles of Amber show was a good idea, ewww. He’s gonna dial up the incest to 100, isn’t he? Sigh. UGH WHOOPS ANOTHER DIGRESSION, LOL YOU SEE WHY MY ADHD MEDS ARE ESSENTIAL, I ASSUME.

Ahem.

BUT in most cases, the fact that Image takes a flat fee off the top is like....shitty, because the last I heard - and tbf, this was years ago so its probably not the same anymore, but that means it could be worse - it was something like $2000 per issue. Which means the vast majority of indie creators you’ve never heard of before or after they published a six issue mini or whatever through Image never saw a cent. I’ve never heard of Image putting anyone in debt, like that’s not how they work at least - if your book doesn’t even make up to $2000, its not like you owe them for the remainder, but again, you just....never make a cent off it. So like....the reason a fuckton of Image books never make it past issue #6, if they even make it that far, is that the creators literally just can’t afford to keep producing out of pocket, financing the actual creative production costs of each issue themselves without making any profit on the backend, if they’re not ending up selling more than $2000 worth of issues once on the shelves, physical or digital).

So don’t fucking pirate Image comic books, plz. Just don’t do it. Unless they’re Erik Larsen’s. Pirate away, who gives a fuck, I hate that guy. LOLOLOL I’m such a petty asshole, ugh. Whatever. I blame my childhood.

ANYWAY. As I was saying, I don’t really give a shit about pirating from Marvel or DC, which maybe is bad of me because its not like those creators necessarily make bank either, unless they’re one of Marvel/DC’s faves and like, have their pick of titles at any given moment. But the way most of them are paid is Marvel and DC pay their creators actual salaries based on rates per page, and then Marvel/DC keep all the actual royalties themselves. The only exceptions to this are when issues sell more than 50,000 copies - that’s 50,000 individual copies of physical or digital issues, not $50,000 worth of sales like with Image. Once a creative team’s book sells more than 50,000 copies of a single issue however, THEN they start getting a cut of the royalties, as like a bonus incentive type thingie. But tbh, its pretty rare in today’s market for a book to move that many issues monthly, and only the top sellers of both companies end up in that rarefied air....and most of those books’ creative teams are the favored writers/artists anyway, the ones who have a degree of job security and never tend to lack for titles to shift to after ending a run on one book. Sooooo, they’re kinda the reverse of the creators who could actually use a cut of their books’ back end profits, but whatever.

So like I said, fuck Marvel and DC, like...corporately or whatever. Of course there’s no doubt that pirating has some definite correlation to how few books are able to move 50,000 issues monthly, but both companies have always been notoriously shitty to creators, and that’s not pirating’s fault, and less pirating honestly isn’t going to change that b/c the ones to benefit from less pirating first and foremost are still going to be the same ones who aren’t really that hurt by it currently....loooooooong before the lower rung creators start to see an uptick in profits as a result. And let’s be real, if Marvel & DC suddenly started seeing a surge in profits due to a marked reduction in piracy, they’d find some excuse to shift payment structures around again in order to still keep a lion’s share of the new profits while cutting the lower rung creators (read: new/just starting out/niche/lacking leverage creators) out of seeing much additional profits. Because the problem with creators making money off Marvel and DC IPs isn’t really pirating, its Marvel and DC not wanting to share the money made off their IPs, even with the people most responsible for those IPs generating revenue.

That’s the part of the pirating convo that most people miss, IMO....a rising tide just DOESN’T lift all boats, if one or two boats in particular are specially designed to make the most of any tiny uptick in a rising tide while all the other boats are made of the leftover shoddy materials and are undermanned or understaffed or whatever and can’t actually DO anything productive with any of the lift generated by the rising tide.

And if that made no sense, eh, idk, don’t blame me. Its not my metaphor.

ANYWAY. So that’s why I don’t really give a shit about pirated movies or TV shows or Marvel or DC books, though I do still think you suck if you pirate indie content including lesser known Image creators. You guys have srsly no idea how much harder indie comic book creators have to work compared to like, any other medium. It makes me wanna cry. Its ridiculous. It would take too long to explain just WHY its so much more of an ordeal/effort to produce indie comic book content than just about any other form of indie content save like, running an entire webshow with one or two people wearing all the hats while funding everything out of pocket and overseeing everything production wise and also being a key creator involved in creating the actual content.

BUT as I was saying in the last post, pirating novels is an ENTIRELY different thing, and I have vastly more opinions there than I do with other mediums. Because the publishing industry was designed to exploit and capitalize off the intellectual properties of INDIVIDUALS, unlike all those other mediums that are inherently collaborative and thus usually involve the combined efforts of several to dozens of people.

So at the end of the day, individual authors will ALWAYS suffer more from pirating, looooooong before publishing companies ever feel a ding in their profits. Because they designed it that way. Specifically SO that they, the big companies, would be protected. Its set up so that individual creatives, the authors, NEED publishing companies more than publishers need any singular author. Obviously the rise of indie publishing has changed this somewhat, but not as much as you might think.....because the thing is, indie authors are really only successful and profitable by the grace of Amazon. By the fact that Amazon can afford to pay authors 70 percent royalties on any sale as opposed to traditionally published authors who are lucky to get a ten to fifteen percent royalty rate on sales, with them not even seeing a cent of those royalties until AFTER their advance has already been paid back, if they ever even sell enough to make that happen at all.

And so like....its a very dangerous, precarious, and not at all trustworthy situation that allows for indie authors to CURRENTLY be profitable in ways or to degrees that a lot of traditionally published authors can’t be.

But that’s only because Amazon is taking a loss on most of the books they publish, due to this payment model. Because Amazon CAN. They can afford it. They make enough from all their other departments and revenue streams to buttress those losses. And Amazon has been using this, and using indie authors, to leverage traditional publishers into giving up more and more of THEIR profits from THEIR books, by giving Amazon even steeper discounts on the books they distribute to them, to be sold to consumers by Amazon.

And again, like I said before, its the individual creators, the bottom rung authors, who take the hits here first and in the biggest ways, because it remains true that the publishers have designed their payment structures so as to use the profits of individual authors to compensate for their own dip in profits.

And Amazon isn’t doing any of this for the little guy’s benefit. They don’t care about giving indie authors a leg up, an alternative to tradition publishers. They only care about CURRENTLY making indie authors need traditional publishers less than trad publishers need them, for a change.....but ONLY so that Amazon can rake in the increase in profits first and foremost.

Because here’s the kicker. The thing I worry too many indie authors and readers don’t account for.

INDIE AUTHORS STILL NEED AMAZON MORE THAN AMAZON NEEDS THEM.

Amazon is VOLUNTARILY taking losses on their book sales, and have been almost from the start. Because they don’t NEED that department in particular to be profitable for them NOW. They’ve been angling for a long time to get as close to an actual monopoly on the book market as is possible under current free market laws. So the thing is....unlike traditional publishers....Amazon doesn’t need ANY indie authors OR sales. Like, AT ALL. They could shut down their entire indie book model tomorrow, and not really be any worse off for it.

And the second Amazon doesn’t need indie authors even as LEVERAGE to pry more profits out of traditional publishers....you better believe that 70 percent royalty rate is going to vanish literally overnight. Because there’s absolutely nothing in Amazon’s business model or legal obligations to indie authors that requires they maintain it, or protects indie authors from having it suddenly dropped to a five percent royalty rate at Amazon’s whim.

So the second the scales tip far enough that Amazon decides they really don’t need or want to milk anything else out of traditional publishers, they’ve gotten as much of a price cut or a monopoly as they’re going to get or want to get without forcing publishers (and by extension their own ready made product that Amazon then distributes) out of business.....Amazon is going to quite happily STOP taking a loss on the sales of all these indie titles, and say well, we don’t need you as much now, so we’re gonna just give you ten percent royalties, take it or leave it. Its not like you have any better options at this point.

So whether traditionally published or indie published, pirating books hurts individual creators in very real, tangible ways that creators in other mediums aren’t affected, or are supplemented or buttressed against.

I say all this not to guilt anyone, but simply to provide information. Because there’s always so much discourse going back and forth around legality of pirating and ethics of pirating and so much stuff that’s not even consequential or relevant if people don’t even understand the MECHANICS of how pirating affects various mediums. So they can then make INFORMED choices on how they feel about pirating certain content versus other content.

As I was saying at the start of all of this....I have my own personal stance on pirating, and I don’t expect it or need it to be anyone else’s personal model. Like I said, I don’t really care about other mediums, and when it comes to novels, I’m against it as much as possible, but with caveats. Lots of people, including authors, describe novels as luxury items, and as such say that nobody’s justified in taking one for their own personal entertainment just because they WANT it. I differ from that POV because I honestly don’t consider books a luxury. I consider them to be absofuckinglutely as essential to the survival and THRIVING of the human condition as food or rest. Far more so than TV or movies, which not everyone has access to, or finds as easily accessible. Bottom line.....I fall in the category of arguing that its not enough just to survive. People have to have reason to survive, to live. Things to look forward to. Things to enjoy. Feeding the human spirit, as cheesy or whatthefuckever as that sounds, is every bit as essential as feeding the body. I would not have survived my childhood without books. I would not have survived my twenties without books. Hell, I would not have survived this YEAR without books.

So, even as an author myself, and yes, I have written stuff that’s been pirated (I made a fairly decent living for a couple years as a self-published indie author of m/m erotica and m/m erotic romance short stories, novellas and novels, and those particular genres/markets get the SHIT pirated out of them. So trust me, I am VERY much putting my money where my mouth is on this subject).

But yes, even as an author myself, I have zero problem with people pirating stuff because they honestly, truly legit can not afford it otherwise. Its not a lost sale. If you don’t have the money, you don’t have the money. It doesn’t mean you still don’t need, let alone deserve, to have something to take your mind off your poverty, your stresses, your issues. And even if you technically have the money to afford a book, I’m well aware that doesn’t always mean you ACTUALLY have the money to afford it in any meaningful way. If you have five bucks to spend for the day, and a choice between a book and a bagel, or like, an actual sandwich and drink, that’s not a fucking choice that ANYONE should have to make. Use that five dollars to buy yourself a fucking sandwich and just pirate the book, I say. You can pay it forward when you get the chance. You find yourself with more money at a later point, by all means, go back and buy a legit copy of that book, your money’s still good then, and having had that book to enjoy at an earlier, more stressful time in your life might very well have contributed in even the tiniest of ways to you getting to a place where you had better finances and more spending money.

Yes, obviously, I am a big fan and proponent of libraries, and I think you should always go there first, if possible, to get your free literary content. Libraries are great, and they have a LOT more content, and more of a range of content, then a lot of people realize.

I am however aware that libraries are not necessarily practical for everyone. Sometimes you just plain can’t get to one, you have transportation or mobility issues or live in a household where your reading habits or interests are frowned upon or even penalized, because sometimes, parents are awful. Sometimes libraries just don’t have the content you’re looking for. Content is subjective, depends on staff, geography, community. LGBTQ+ kids shouldn’t have to risk being seen looking through the LGBTQ+ section of the library or checking out a book, if they’re not out at home or school or in their community. By all means, I would much rather a kid in that situation pirate the fuck out of their comforting, soul-sustaining LGBTQ+ themed books than risk upsetting a currently safe and secure status quo. Again, just pay it forward when and if you can, at a later date. And so on and so forward.

BUT, again, there’s caveats there, because with books, I consider it a case by case basis, and the case in question is the individual consumer. The above scenarios IMO are based entirely on the genuine, sincere situation of not being able to afford a book in any practical way, and not having a library as a valid option for getting that or any book.

This is an entirely different situation from HAVING the spending money, and being perfectly capable of dropping five bucks on a book versus five bucks on one of those much-talked-about-in-pirating-convos Starbucks’ lattes that you don’t NEED any more than anyone supposedly NEEDS to read a particular book.

If you CAN afford to pay full price for a book without dipping into funds intended for other practical necessities or hurting or even inconveniencing you in any meaningful way, if you CHOOSE to pirate a book you can access or download through legal channels with just as much ease as you can pirate it...(again, I’m aware that due to bullshit territory laws, not all content is legally available in all areas at all times, and this isn’t what I’m talking about).

I’m talking about if you’re NOT in a bad - not just slightly uncomfortable - but BAD, financially tight, thrifty, constantly stressed situation where its honestly a Sophie’s fucking Choice trying to decide if you’re gonna shell out your money for the sequel you’ve been waiting on pins and needles for for a fucking year and its been the only thing getting you through some days....or if you’re gonna like, eat today....

THAT’S when I have no patience for your piracy, specifically. Not when it comes to novels and the bottom lines of individual, hard-working authors, most of whom have to spend their lunch hours or come home after work to soak their blood, sweat and tears into the manuscript that becomes the book you just pirated. I know what I said about indie comic book creators having it so much more fucking tough than anyone else knows or realizes, but that doesn’t mean that midlist and lower than that authors don’t work DAMN fucking hard on their product, even after working forty hour weeks at some minimum wage job that’s every bit as soul-crushing as the worst job you’ve ever held.

And you’re not a fucking rebel or revolutionary if you’re taking money out of THEIR pocket, when you don’t need it yourself, just because you can. You’re not sticking it to the man, or teaching greedy capitalist publishing pigs the error of their ways. They don’t care, and you’re just being a dick.

Entitlement isn’t always a bad thing, I believe, because we ARE all entitled to certain things. A broke, disabled person with transportation issues and disability benefits that aren’t even enough to cover their actual living expenses is IMO every bit as ENTITLED as anyone else to a nice, stress-free, enjoyable read they picked out because it was precisely what they were looking for and not because it was the only thing out of ten available options that looked halfway decent. I will never ever judge or condemn or disparage someone for pirating in a scenario even REMOTELY close to that.

But that doesn’t mean that gratuitous entitlement doesn’t always exist, and isn’t obnoxious as fuuuuuuuuuuck. You’re not entitled to whatever you want, whenever you want, for as little as you feel like paying for it, just because you WANT it. And just because you can GET it, consequence free. If THAT’S the defining motivation or influence behind pirating the debut novel of a single mom working sixty hours a week to support her kids PLUS hanging onto her dreams and pounding out her novel over the course of a year and a half on her lunch hour.....then yeah, you fucking suck, and you know it, you whiny little shit who identifies with this paragraph and goes "who me? YOU DONT KNOW MY LIFE!” Yeah, I do. We all know someone like you. You’re not special.

Just like I know that author profile I just described there was not grabbed out of my ass, but describes someone very real and not at all embellished, and she’s not even the author I know in the most stressful scenario-whilst-writing. She certainly wouldn’t even consider herself in the Top Ten. And her publisher passed on the option for her sophomore novel, because her much-pirated book never made back the $25,000 advance she was paid over the course of three installments, which meant after taxes, she got an extra $10,000 bucks spread out among three eight month intervals, or just under two years.

So yeah. That’s where I fall. Soundly in the same camp I fall in most things: Actions have consequences, and you should always make an effort to be informed on what those consequences are before deciding whether or not you take action.

Let’s be real, no one’s effectively policing whether or not every individual consumer on the web pirates casually, extensively, or religiously, if at all. Its not likely EVER going to be an issue for you. That someone can actually keep you from pirating because you’re genuinely afraid of legal consequences.

But you shouldn’t need the threat of legal consequences, the question of can I get away with this or not, to police your own actions.

And at the risk of giving anyone whiplash, I for sure don’t give a fuck about the legality of taking away from the bottom line of massive, multi-million dollar corporate interests if I can get away with it. I’m just as entitled to keeping my five bucks that I worked DAMN FUCKING HARD FOR, as the people most likely to see that money even though they didn’t log a single actual hour on producing the content they’re charging five bucks for, IMO. I’m perfectly aware there’s a shit ton of people who’d call that rationale self-serving bullshit and hypocritical, but bite my lily-white Irish ass, I don’t give a fuck. I’m comfortable with my own morality.

But part of the reason I’m comfortable with my own morality, is that it tells me that even though there are times when I think I’m entitled to certain things I can’t necessarily afford, there are also times when I know I’m NOT entitled to things I may just not WANT to afford. Any time you’re able to justify ALWAYS having things your way without it ever costing you any kind of concession, I think that’s usually a good sign it might be time to stop and take a second look at yourself. Nobody gets to have everything their own way, to their best liking, all of the time.

But the flip side of that coin IMO, is that nobody should be penalized to NEVER having anything their own way, to their liking, ANY of the time. And if that’s the situation you’re in at some point in your life, and pirating’s the only available option to giving yourself a break from your regular monotony or currently-shitty-reality? Like, who the fuck am I to tell you not to pirate that feel good book or movie that has the chance to let you go to bed later with an actual smile on your face for a change? Who the fuck is anybody to tell you that?

*Shrugs*

There’s my two cents: The Ten Volume and Unnecessarily Long Saga.

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cannabisrefugee-esq · 5 years

Video

youtube

(via "Medically Futile Care" As Ritual. I Fucking Knew It. And People Are Okay With This?)

I’ve been researching so-called “medically futile care” lately, or more accurately, it’s a rabbit hole I fell down while researching nursing and what nurses have to say about witnessing and participating in medically futile care, otherwise known as medicalized torture. My own mother is a nurse and I know that she, after being a nurse for some 30 years, started to become disillusioned by Western medicine and the horrific procedures and treatments imposed on intractably and/or terminally ill and actively dying patients. Of course, she didn’t start having a problem with it until after she had reaped the social and material rewards of being a disgusting handmaiden and middle class patriarchal enforcer for her entire adult life including subjecting her own children to medicalized torture: my own brother died from it and earlier this year she brutally criticised me for abandoning Western medicine after 2 years of conventional Crohn’s treatments that were not helping and only making me worse. With a Western medical nurse as a mother who needs a firing squad (or torturer) amirite?

https://youtu.be/ujANeiNYHU8

I have written here before about disillusioned Western medical doctors resisting their evil profession by leaving the field, including leaving via suicide. Apparently there is currently a movement headed by Western medical doctors themselves to challenge abusive practices in their field including but not limited to hazing and domination rituals in medical school and medical residency; overwork, sleep deprivation and other conditions related to employment in the Western medical field; and cruel standards of care including those implicating medically futile care where doctors feel “forced” to literally torture sick, injured and otherwise vulnerable patients lest they lose their jobs or be sued for medical malpractice. Doctors are actually feeling sorry for themselves because their jobs as patriarchal enforcers and medical torturers makes them feel bad, and while anyone who has ever worked before knows what it’s like to be coerced for money (and survival) those who literally, physically harm and torture other people in order to maintain their own standards of living will garner no sympathy from me.

The same goes for Western medical nurses who my research indicates suffer greatly from vicarious trauma and professional burnout from “having” to witness torturous medically futile care in their professions. Examples of such care include flogging corpses which have no reasonable chance of being revived; continuing invasive so-called “life support” for those who are dead to the world and will probably never regain consciousness or if they do will be horrifically and permanently impaired; refusing to let extremely premature or terminally malformed or diseased infants die naturally, and so on. Get a real fucking job, no matter how low it pays, is my response to all medical professionals who have a problem with physically harming and torturing people…yet continue to do it anyway because some man somewhere tells them they have to lest they lose their jobs if they want to continue to fund their own middle- to upper middle-class lifestyles. Seriously fuck you a million times you poor, poor self-proclaimed victims of workplace abuse who continue to physically torture vulnerable people for money. You absolute monsters.

As a chronically ill person suffering from an incurable and progressive disease that is notoriously unresponsive to conventional care, I recognized awhile ago that for me to engage with Western medicine when it has nothing to offer me in terms of pain and symptom relief or a net increase in my quality of life (net meaning overall, or a positive rather than negative score in benefit-minus-risk) would be nothing more or less than an engagement with a patriarchal ritual, and one that as a radical feminist would give me no comfort. Because I see no objective or subjective value in participating in patriarchal rituals I have declined to use the doctors’ office as a confessional, to confess my sins of being a disabled female under capitalism and patriarchy to a patriarchal authority figure who can do absolutely nothing for me except to witness my confession and absolve me of the emotional burden of being sick in the first place, and medically noncompliant in the second. That is literally what Western medicine is to me now — a patriarchal ritual — and I reject that on its face as a female who is deliberately denigrated and harmed (not healed) by patriarchy and patriarchal rituals by design.

Well come to find out this business about Western medicine and medically futile care in particular being a patriarchal ritual has been described by other people and wasn’t just something I and other radical feminists have made up in our heads: researchers actually admit it’s true in a medical journal article entitled “Rituals, death and the moral practice of medical futility.” Of course, they frame the use of ritual in this context as a positive thing. Here is the abstract of that article:

��Medical futility is often defined as providing inappropriate treatments that will not improve disease prognosis, alleviate physiological symptoms, or prolong survival. This understanding of medical futility is problematic because it rests on the final outcomes of procedures that are narrow and medically defined. In this article, Walker’s “expressive-collaborative” model of morality is used to examine how certain critical care interventions that are considered futile actually have broader social functions surrounding death and dying. By examining cardiopulmonary resuscitation and life-sustaining intensive care measures as moral practices, we show how so-called futile interventions offer ritualistic benefit to patients, families, and health care providers, helping to facilitate the process of dying. This work offers a new perspective on the ethical debate concerning medical futility and provides a means to explore how the social value of treatments may be as important in determining futility as medical scientific criteria.”

Oh by all means, let’s remove the expectation that medical care provide positive “final outcomes” for the one being subjected to it — the patient. Because to ignore fail to extol the broader social function of torturing sick and dying people in a medicalized authoritative setting would be problematic, you see. Do you see what they did there? They are talking about social engineering and the effects on society at large of flogging corpses, equating zombification/maintaining a state of undead with “life support”, and spitting in the eye of natural law by refusing to allow congenitally unviable infants to not-survive infancy and so on. And while the abstract does not list or detail the alleged benefits, the writers believe the social engineering effects are positive. Sure, if the reader is one who benefits from collective trauma and trauma-based mind control among other things. The rest of us, I suppose, are just expected to adopt the perspective of our oppressors.

These medical researchers aren’t even hiding the fact that most if not all medically futile including end-of-life care is ritualistic and does not benefit the patient. They assert that it is not intended to and should not be intended to benefit the patient because why waste an opportunity for social engineering and propping up medical (patriarchal) authority by “facilitating the process of dying” as if natural law needs their help? This is megalomaniacal.

The shit icing on the cake may even be that these researchers used a woman feminist’s ethical framework in order to justify using patriarchal authority as social engineering in cases of intractable illness and injury, including at the end of life. They rely on Margaret Urban Walker’s Moral Understandings: A Feminist Study in Ethics, published in 1998 which is described here:

The central concept of Walker’s work is the development of the expressive-collaborative model of ethical discourse. The expressive-collaborative model is a participatory model that engages people of all different kinds in a deliberative process that develops shared morality for a community. She develops this model as an alternative to the theoretical-juridical model [which model is a top-down authoritative model that assumes a universal moral code applies and does not accept input from the community it asserts moral authority over.]

Of course, assuming Walker is actually a feminist, she is proposing an alternative to patriarchy and providing an entrance for women and feminists into ethical discussions surrounding social policy and practice that disproportionately negatively affect us.

But her work is not used here to challenge patriarchy, quite the opposite. These prick researchers appear to use Walker’s alternative feminist ethical framework to support the use of medicalized patriarchal torture as ritual and beneficial social engineering…why? Because men and Western medical doctors should be included in the creation of social policy and practice and to not include them would be unfair because they are part of the communities they serve? (Have we hit peak liberal feminism yet?) Because using the bodies of sick and dying people to literally send messages to other people is perfectly fine? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, considering that men in general and Western medicine in particular, as a fundamental patriarchal institution, already wrote the whole show including the foreword, the afterword, and the credits — and have used women and women’s bodies as useful objects the whole time. The world is their stage, the rest of us only players, yet we mustn’t disallow men and patriarchal institutions their voice literal actual physical abuse because not only ethics, but because feminist ethics. Got it.

youtube

Did I mention that I was right about medically futile care being nothing but a patriarchal ritual that can only harm women because that’s what it’s intended to do? Yep. I absolutely did mention it and I will again. I have also discussed how sick women’s bodies are in fact used to send messages to other people, in the case of requiring women to accept harmful and misogynistic Western medical treatment in order to collect disability benefits, the message is comply or literally die. Of course, I also framed Western medical treatment of untreatable, incurable and progressive disease as medically futile care which for some people is probably controversial but hardly a stretch if you just think about it a little bit. Goddammit I hate being right all the time.

https://youtu.be/Auxn2VAdiKI

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fallout4holmes · 6 years

Text

Journal 32

Valentine and Hancock took the opportunity to catch up on each other's respective cities as we walked to Goodneighbor. Danse was silent at first, encased in his armor, but after a while asked, “Holmes, the ghoul - er, Hancock - mentioned you traveled with a super mutant?”

I explained how I met Rex Goodman and Strong. Danse was incredulous. When I went on to explain that Strong was now travelling between Minutemen settlements with a seamstress, he was nearly furious.

“You assigned an unarmed civilian to accompany a delusional abomination?!”

“Of course she’s armed, and Strong isn’t going to eat her, Danse. If he tires of humans, he’ll just leave.”

“You can’t be certain of that! How can you trust a super mutant?”

“He was stationed at the Castle without incident, and then in the western settlements after. He never attacked any human that didn’t attack him first. Hancock and I traveled with him, and I am certain he is blindly dedicated to his quest for the milk of human kindness, which means he can’t go around killing every human he sees.”

“This is insane.”

“It’s not as though I’m opening the gates to any super mutant who wants in. Strong is an exception. He is an… aberration among his kind. He likes Macbeth, for heaven’s sake. He is brutal and barbaric, but not an immediate danger to any human. He has no qualms about fighting his ‘brothers.’”

“Brothers?”

“That’s how he refers to other super mutants.”

“Speakin’ of Strong’s brothers…” Hancock said.

Sure enough, the sound of automatic fire and super mutant shouting could be heard over the blast of a laser rifle in the distance. Danse moved forward, “I’m on point, you three fall in behind and to the sides. Stick to the shadows; I’ll draw fire.”

No one argued, though Hancock cursed when he saw who the super mutants were fighting.

A Brotherhood Scribe tended to a fallen Initiate while a Knight fired upon the mutants across the street. The cavalry came in the form of a vertibird, quickly shot down to crash between skyscrapers, its pilot crawling from the wreckage, miraculously alive for the moment. Danse and I didn’t hesitate, attacking the mutants directly and creating a second front. Valentine made his way toward the pilot, shooting at a mutant hound before it could finish the wounded man. Hancock joined us, firing his shotgun point blank at every mutant he could, leaving a bloody mess in his wake. The Brotherhood Knight continued his attack with deadly accuracy, though I suspect he also wasn’t too concerned with not hitting us as well.

When the last mutant fell and the dust settled, the Knight was less than thrilled to see who had lent a helping hand. “Thanks for the assist… what the hell?”

A panicked cry came from the pilot. Valentine was on a knee beside him, his hands up in an attempt to be non-threatening. “Easy friend. I know the face ain’t comforting, but I promise I’m only trying to help. You’re in bad shape.”

The Knight stormed toward him, “Get away, you abomination.”

“Well, good afternoon to you, too,” Valentine stood slowly. “He’s bleeding out and both his legs are broken. You gonna let me give him a stimpak or leave him to suffer?”

“We don’t need help from freaks,” the Knight said, turning to encompass Hancock in the insult.

“Watch your mouth, friend,” Hancock snarled, “it's getting you in trouble.”

Danse knelt by the pilot, to everyone’s surprise. Valentine handed him the stimpak, which Danse promptly used to stop the man’s bleeding. “Does your Scribe require assistance,” he asked in a quick monotone.

“He’s keeping Initiate Nelson alive,” said the Knight.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Unless you’re a doctor, there’s nothing else you can do here.” The Knight surveyed the soldier before him as Danse stood up. “Didn't think Minutemen use armor.”

“I prefer it. The General approved.”

I stood beside Danse, “Indeed, why shouldn't any Minuteman who can salvage a suit put it to good use?”

The Knight looked at me. “Strange coincidence, an armored soldier joining the Minutemen after the synth you were supposed to kill is conveniently disintegrated.”

“Are you suggesting that Elder Maxson is a fool, or a liar?”

“Ooh,” Hancock chuckled from his position behind us, “dissension in the ranks.”

The Knight was unamused, “He doesn't have to be a fool to be fooled. It's no secret he and the traitor were close. If a devious false brother planted the evidence he wanted to see, he might not look as closely at the lie as he would any other time.”

“Awful lot of ‘ifs',” Valentine lit a cigarette, “not to mention a pretty clear picture of who that false brother would have to be.”

“Why do you find it so much more likely that I faked Danse's death and ran,” I challenged, “rather than the fact that Danse is dead and I couldn't stomach Brotherhood philosophy any further? Paladin Danse was a loyal soldier to the end. He did nothing to betray the Brotherhood except exist, and confronting him about his true nature was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. Maxson was there; he followed me because he doubted I would finish the deed. Either I am the best liar in history, or your Elder himself would have to be complicit in this ridiculous conspiracy. If you haven't any proof to support your paranoia, we have nothing further to say to each other. Shall we, gentlemen?”

We made it a few paces before the Knight shouted, “Danse!”

“With you?” Hancock called back, “No way I'm high enough for that!”

Once we were a few blocks further, Hancock nudged Danse's arm, “Shit, crew cut, they really got your number. What the hell did you see in a bunch of racist bastards anyway?”

“Hope for humanity and a chance to make a difference in the world.”

Hancock scoffed, “Don't see why hope for humanity means killing all the freaks like me - or you.”

“It made sense at the time.”

Hancock paused a moment before he said, “Look, brother, I get that ain't you anymore. I just can't wrap my head around it. Plenty of folks wanna make life hard for people just tryin' to survive. I'm not willing to stand for that kinda shit.”

Danse was skeptical, “Does that extend to your own citizens?”

“Got a real simple policy in Goodneighbor. If someone needs help, I help 'em. If someone needs hurting, I hurt 'em. It's not hard. Folks know what they're getting into when they walk into my town, and if they don't, then they learn real fast.”

It was nearing sunset when Goodneighbor’s neon sign greeted us. Danse stared at it a moment and said, “With all due minimal respect, Hancock, what the hell?”

“I know, wasn’t my first choice for colors, but do you have any idea how hard it was to rig that thing?”

“I was referring to the fact that there is a giant sign announcing the presence of your den of criminals in the first place.”

“Hey, not all of ‘em are criminals. Drifters, outcasts, freaks, anyone who doesn’t have a home to call their own. Besides, who the fuck are we supposed to be hiding from? Someone wants to take us out?” He smiled sinisterly, “Just let them try.”

We went inside, and Hancock sighed, “Home sweet home. Oh, crew cut, friendly tip. Security here is strictly ‘do it yourself’... but I'm guessing you won't have to worry about that. Everyone’s welcome as long as they play nice. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people, you feel me?”

Though it was impossible to tell, I'm certain Danse was scowling at his surroundings. “Understood,” he said.

“I'm gonna head up to the office, take care of some ‘pending mayoral business.’ Look around, I'll catch up to you later.”

As Hancock went inside the State House, I said to Danse, “At the very least we should restock on ammunition and supplies. Then there's a friend of mine I'd like to check in with.”

“Affirmative… a friend? Here?”

“More of a former business associate. First things first, for ammunition you'll want to talk to Kleo, and for everything else see her neighbor, Daisy.”

Daisy was more than happy to meet the man who put Trashcan Carla in her place for insulting a ghoul, and pleased to hear Al, “the Vault-Tec ghoul,” was doing well. Apparently gossip travels among the caravans. Kleo unsuccessfully flirted when Danse expressed interest in some of her heavier weaponry, but ultimately he decided to simply stock up on fusion cells. Our supply needs met, I led the way to the Memory Den.

The proprietress was lounging in her usual position. “Good evening, Irma, is Kent in?”

“Where else would he be?” She smiled, “He’ll be happy to see you, sugar…” she stood as her attention drifted to the two men behind me, “... well, well! Hello, Nick.”

Valentine grinned, “Irma. Let me introduce the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen.”

Danse removed his helmet, “Ma’am.”

“Welcome. And call me Irma, dear. Of course, if the rest of what's under the armor matches the eyes, you call me whatever you want.”

“I… appreciate the compliment. Exactly what sort if establishment is this?”

Irma laughed, “Relax, sugar, I'm harmless.”

“Wouldn't say that,” Valentine muttered.

“Oh hush, Nick,” she playfully scolded.

I left her to the explanation of her business while I looked in on Kent. He’d just finished introducing an episode where the Silver Shroud encounters a villain called “The Mechanist,” and greeted me with a smile. “Shroud! Long time no see. How’re things?”

“Doing well, Kent. Remarkably busy.”

“I bet. After destroying the Institute, being a General and all, and a detective, I bet you don’t have a bit of spare time.”

I laughed, “Some days it seems that way. Word has spread about the Agency?”

“There was a story in Public Occurrences a while back, that’s how I knew. Sometimes Diamond City Radio mentions you too. What brought you back to Goodneighbor?”

“Passing through, escorting your wayward Mayor home.”

“I sure do appreciate you stopping by. Is the suit still working ok? Oh, but I guess you don't use it a lot these days.”

“I do not, but it is still perfectly intact and functional. You did some impressive work, Kent.”

He smiled, “Thanks.”

We heard Hancock's voice from the other room, “There's two of you. Where'd Trouble get to?”

“Mayor Hancock,” Irma intercepted. “I don't often see you in my parlor.”

“Nothin’ personal. Just not my kind of high.” I could imagine; dwelling on the past held no appeal for that man.

“A moment, Hancock,” I called and turned to Kent. “I should be going. It was good to see you.”

“Sure thing Shroud,” we shook hands, “same to you.”

I joined my companions, we bid a good night to Irma, and followed the grinning Hancock out the door. “Come on fellas,” he said, “drinks are on me.”

“Which means they're on the house,” Valentine said.

Hancock shrugged, “Well, yeah, I own the joint, so same thing.”

As we descended into the Third Rail, Valentine said to Danse in a low voice, “Watch your caps in this place. Folks behind the bar are as likely to rob you as those in front of it.”

“You don't have to be a detective to see that much,” Danse grumbled back. Valentine chuckled.

An intoxicated patron made some comment about the “king of the ghouls” being back in town, prompting Hancock to smile, “It’s good to be home. What's worth drinkin' today, Chuck?”

The uniquely Cockney Mr. Handy behind the bar swiveled in surprise. “Mayor Hancock! I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'd be coming in today. We're out of your usual.”

“Don't sweat it, Chuck,” Hancock leaned against the bar. “Just gimme whatever tastes the least like it's been aged in a shoe.” He was handed a glass of something that might have been beer. “Here,” Hancock attempted to pay, but he was refused.

“Please, Mayor Hancock. I can't take your money.”

“Can't say I didn't try,” Hancock laughed, “Thanks Chuck. Oh, those three are with me.”

“What's the word, Charlie?” Valentine said as we joined the Mayor.

“Valentine. You actually gonna buy something this time?”

Valentine was amused, “It'd be a chilly day in hell before I buy any of your swill. So, anyone new in need of finding?”

“None that didn't want it or have it coming.”

This was clearly a routine between them. “Always the humanitarian, ain't ya, Chuck?”

“Set the humans up with whatever the hell you gave me is,” Hancock said with a grin, “and put it on my tab.”

You could almost hear a pained sigh. “Comin’ up.”

Danse, realizing he was taking up a large amount of limited space, moved to a corner to exit his armor. We joined him as Magnolia took the stage. Hancock and Valentine enjoyed the show while Danse and I spoke quietly.

“General, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I didn’t mean to usurp your command. I shouldn’t have let my emotions override my duty.”

“You mean when we were fighting mutants? For heaven's sake, you are far better equipped than I to issue battlefield instructions. As for your reaction to Strong, I expected as much. You have every reason to hate mutants, and to doubt my admittedly questionable judgement concerning this one.” I managed a swallow of the poor excuse for beer I was holding before setting it on the table and switching to a cigarette. “Now. What’s really troubling you?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, chagrined.

“Only because I know you,” I assured him, and waited.

“… I used to sound like that. The Knight.”

“‘Get away, you abomination?’”

He nodded. “He didn’t react the way I expected.”

It took me a moment to realize to whom he was referring. “Valentine? He’s had a century of practice maintaining dignity in the face of hate.”

Danse took a large swallow of his beer, grimaced, and set it next to mine. “It was difficult to hear, now that I’m one of those abominations.”

I put my hand on Danse’s shoulder, “As Hancock said, ‘that ain’t you anymore.’ And if he can see that, anyone can.”

Magnolia finished her performance to rousing applause. “Hey, Holmes,” Hancock grinned, “should we try to set the soldier up?” He nodded toward Magnolia.

Danse rolled his eyes. “No, thank you.”

“Not your type,” Hancock nodded, making mental note, “got it.”

“Hancock, stop trying to make me relax.”

“I’m concerned! Can’t be healthy having posture that good all the time.”

“The possibility that you would be at all concerned with what’s healthy and what isn’t is laughable.”

“Alright you two,” Valentine stood. I noticed he wavered a bit, the effort greater than it should have been. “Hancock, the humans are gonna need a place to sleep.”

Hancock scoffed, “Hotel Rexford belongs to Marowski. Not even my charm can crack those rates. Of course, there's always the couch in my office,” he leered at Danse. Danse didn't try to hide his disgust, prompting a wicked laugh from Hancock. As Danse entered his armor, he asked, “Seriously though, crew cut, when was the last time you got laid?”

“Five days ago, before I left Sanctuary.”

Hancock was thunderstruck. “Shit, seriously?” He chased after Danse as he left the bar, “A tin soldier is getting more action than I am?! That just doesn’t seem right. Course, I was on the road with your General…”

I held Valentine back a moment, “Are you alright?”

“Just a couple gears acting up…” he sighed at my frown. “I’ll be fine. Let’s catch up before Hancock annoys Danse enough to say something he’ll regret.”

We secured the sole available room at the Rexford (not even the Mayor dares push the patiencel of Ms. Hutchins, the elderly receptionist - a deathclaw would be cowed by her glare.) Hancock bade us goodnight and good luck on our journey to the Castle in the morning.

Valentine is running a diagnostic; it's taking longer than usual. He assures me he's perfectly capable of making the trip to the Castle and then Murkwater, but I can't help but worry. I have to put it from my mind and try to rest.

#nick valentine #danse #hancock #fallout 4 #sherlock holmes #fan fiction #crossover

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thegreymoon · 5 years

Note

Sorry, You didn't really say or do anything to make me think that you are Asian. I thought that I read sth in your lj where u said that you were and just run with it. It was a long time ago and I must have misread. Also, you don't really post a lot political stuff, it is more like I notice it more because when I visit your page I skip all Merlin related stuff and am interested in the rest so again my fault. As for my ise of imaginary- yeah, it was passive agressive, altough not intentionally so

… my bad. I rarely engage in political conversations online because it never ends well, especially when my views clash with 90% of tumblr users so I am used to combative tone and it was unnecessary.. As for SJW I am not sure if that is dissmissive term as it discribes the “movement” well? I am not native speaker and am aware that it can be used as derogative term, but was also convinced that it is used by people on the left if political spectrum. I asked you why you are mainy interesetd in USA because I was working under the assumption that u are Asian it seemed to me weird that a person coming from China/Japan etc would be championing social justice in USA when it not that big of a problem(or at all IMO) whie ignoring very real problems in their own country. But since you are not Asian and you post political stuff rarely you are right it is a silly discussion. The fault is completely on my side. I am allergic to these kind of stuff and you are one of my favourite writers so I exaggerated. Once again sorry.

As for the rest of your response: I also come from relatively poor country that was screwed over by both Britain and USA and many other countries, and I don’t agree with many of their policies (or most) but I don’t hate them and believe that as much as people like to say they start wars for the oil etc it is not really true. There are many political and global players and everyone single country is motivated by greed it is only that not every country can exercise their power.

Relatively they are not the worst, it is just that since USA tries to paint themselves as heroes they are held to different, much higher standards than other countries. To sum it up, I am not defending their foreign policies, they have done a lot of wrong and are shortseighted but I still think that are better than other superpowers that will soon take over like China or maybe India. Also, I don;t understand why would you include global warming in your answer?why do you believe it is their fault

I am trying to leave as “green” as I can, I am a vegetarian and I believe we should do everything to preserve environment, but I wouldnt want my country to sign any deals concerning CO2 emission as long as other countries do not do the same. Otherwise, they would just cripple their economy and not help the world? As for Trump(if you are still interested) I find him the epitome of self-important, conceited stereotypical american but still so much better than alternative and despite distaste. would still vote for him. Because he at least apppears to be anti globalist and has a much higher moral ground than Hillary. what are his SPECIFIC actions that you find so abhorrent? Anyway, what I alluded to in my message was not politics of USA but the social justcie issues, like support BLM or me to movement(I am not sure if you posted enything regarding that, so srry if I presume wrongly) which I find are absolutely not based on facts and despite that people still perpetuate that, and if u don’t agree you are racist and sexist. No arguments whatsoever. It is also silly to me when I see the posts about the West being this cesspool of sexism while honour killings or FGM is nearly a non issue on social media or racism when considering the West is still the least racist place in the world when you compare it to China/India/SA or any other place. So, I find the social media effort to be misdirected and controlled by emotions. Even the indigineous people issued you mentioned. Americans get so much shit for their history, while pretty much every single country that exist was created by conquering or displacement of the previous population(u just have to go far enough down the history). So, yeah wht happend to Indigenous people and dissappearance of their whole civilization is a great tragedy but not the first and unfortunately not the last in human history. Why are we hearing about it but not about Anuit people or Persian or Byzantians? it is so imbalanced. Ok, anyway, sorry for the rant it shouldn’t be directed at you and tumblr is definitely not the place for it. Sorry if I offended to you. As I said I love your writing, “DC” is my all time favourite fic, and because I creepely once read through all of your lj(including asks and responses) I(like an internet creep and stalker)liked you and thought you seemed smart, well balanced and knowledgeable so I guess I felt entitled to to make the ask. Wish you all the best in life.

No worries, I’m sorry I came off so aggressive in my answer. I did actually live and work in China for a while during my LJ days and it’s entirely possible I may have tagged myself as being there on my fandom profiles at the time. It was a happy period for me and I talked about it a lot to anyone who had the patience to listen, so it’s very plausible that you have read something about it on my LJ! I’m very sorry if it was misleading, but I was only ever an expat there!

I used to be a lot more open about my real name and real-life dealings in fandom communities, but that almost backfired spectacularly, so I locked down a lot of stuff because it could do me quite a bit of damage.

OK, I concede your point that if you remove the Merlin stuff, a lot of what is left on my Tumblr is going to be either me reblogging cats or raging about social injustices (oops) 😅

I’d just like to make it clear that I absolutely do not hate either the USA, the UK or any other country in the world. Like I said, people are people, and disgusting policies are disgusting policies and every single country is guilty of them. It’s just that some have a bigger impact and are more visible. My own country is a source of so much shame and anger for me, it far outweighs anything the UK and the USA could have ever done because it’s personal, but our nonsense is just not something that I come across when casually scrolling through Tumblr, so I don’t reblog it. It’s possible to love a nation and its people and still be critical of the evil they have done.

Also, let me just clarify that I’m bothered by all injustices and human rights violations everywhere, but usually there isn’t a post about them when I’m scrolling at 2 am at night that I can reblog. The USA is just… low hanging fruit, and let’s face it, from where I stand, hating on their president, the white supremacists, the Nazis, fundamental Christians, racists and the Republicans in general after what they have turned into is not hating on the USA, but rather cheering on the sane part of the country to get rid of this toxic waste ASAP. The same goes for Brexiteers in the UK and I am so, so sad for all the people that are going to suffer because of it.

Of course, I’m aware that China and Japan have issues and human rights violations that are mind-boggling, but again, they just don’t appear on my dash very often, or at least not in English or from a source I can easily fact-check. The Japanese and Chinese stuff I follow is mostly art, nature and pictures of pretty clothes. My knowledge of either of these countries is very superficial compared to Western countries, which impact me directly, so it really isn’t my place to appoint myself as a champion of human rights in the Far East when my own country and continent are a growing dumpster fire that cannot be contained.

On the subject of global warming, I’m not blaming the USA (entirely, because they, of course, played their part, but so did the rest of humanity). I’m enraged by their governing body’s rhetoric as of late, the denial of climate change, every single action that Trump took since taking office (such as withdrawing from the Paris climate agreement), him making ignorant, snide remarks in the middle of the polar vortex just days ago while people were suffering, deliberately sabotaging scientists and spreading dangerous, false information when each and every single country should be all-hands-on-deck if we want to avert a disaster of global proportions (especially with all the signs pointing to us being too late already). Nobody is suggesting that the USA should unilaterally reduce carbon emissions, all countries in the world must do it and develop the technology to make it feasible to convert to clean energy. And yes, the USA, China and other giants have to lead the way because they are the ones with the power! My poor, tiny country is not the one that can impact anything, so yes, the USA is absolutely more responsible to lead the way forward, but instead of at least moving in the right direction, Trump is deliberately lying and sabotaging all effort because he likes the money he gets from Big Oil companies, and he’s giving a platform to religious nutcases for votes, who think that there won’t be a global disaster of epic proportions in the near future because God promised Noah he would never again flood the entire Earth in the Old Testament. It’s not even the outright evil that is bothering me the most right now, but the mind-numbing stupidity.

I have nothing but loathing for both of the Clintons. They have caused so much destruction in my country and I do not want good things for either of them, ever. I will never pretend that Hillary Clinton is anything even resembling a good person because you do not reach that level of power by having a conscience, but at the very least, she is not a rapist and paedophile that the general public knows of (which is more than we can say for her husband, btw). Trump has no moral high ground whatsoever, IMO. He has done everything imaginable, from scamming charities (this was proven in court) to raping minors (see Epstein). He has no redeemable human characteristics and is not even intelligent enough to pretend that he does, which is at least one thing that Hillary has going for her. I’m not going to sit here and list all the reasons why Trump is abhorrent because a) it cannot fit in a Tumblr post b) I would be sitting here for years.

I will also not engage in discussion about whether or not BLM is a valid movement, ever. I don’t understand what you mean when you say it isn’t based on ‘facts’. Which, facts are in doubt, exactly? It’s based on multigenerational, still ongoing trauma and persecution of an entire race of people! I’m neither black nor an American, but I believe African-American people when they talk about the terror they experience on a daily basis in their own country. I have eyes and I have ears, I know plenty of white people and have insight into how they think because I too am white and have been raised with similar bullshit. I have lived in Africa for years and seen things with my own eyes. I will never not take the side of black people when they protest racism anywhere and I will never not believe them when they talk about police brutality, race-based violence and systemic racism in countries built on slavery.

Of course, I’m not saying racism doesn’t exist in other places and in other forms, but talking about one does not negate the other.

Also, I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make about the West not being sexist because other places have it worse? I’m sure I misunderstood this, so forgive me if that is the case. FGM is terrible, yes, but that in no way invalidates other types of gender violence that still ruins the lives of countless women. Just because the women in, say, Saudi Arabia have it worse, that doesn’t mean that the women here or in the USA should not talk about issues that directly affect them (and, btw, I have absolutely been outraged about Saudi Arabia and FGM and shared posts about both). All are bad! This is not a competition.

On the topic of you saying that America gets so much shit for its history, which you think is unjust, I have to mention that European settlers killed up to 95% of Native Americans in some areas in relatively recent history. Just days ago, I was reading an article about how they killed so many people, it actually changed the global climate! This is genocide on such a massive scale, my brain can’t even comprehend it, and yet here we are today, with Columbus Day and Thanksgiving as holidays while the surviving Native Americans suffer all kinds of indignity and discrimination, so no, I don’t think we are talking about it enough and I feel that America deserves all the shit it gets for its history. IMO, it is not getting enough shit! The fact that there are other issues out there that need to be talked about too and are being silenced does not in any way take away from any of this.

Anyway, let’s not argue about which country is The Worst™ and which human rights issues are more worthwhile than others because that is pointless. We already agree that all governments are corrupt, that evil happened and is still happening all over the world and that all human rights issues are important. I firmly believe that if they were to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, 99% of all high-ranking politicians would be diagnosed with serious clusters of antisocial personality disorders. Most of them would do anything and the only thing stopping them is whether or not they can get away with it. The remaining 1% cannot really do much and keep both their conscience and political power intact.

In any case, the last thing I want in life is to get into Tumblr discourse with LJ people, so how about we just put this behind us? Let’s agree to disagree on who is worse, Trump or Hillary, because that is a pointless disagreement, especially since neither of us is an American and this is getting out of hand. I feel like we are actually miscommunicating and talking about different things. We seem to be arguing different points, so all of it is coming off worse for both of us than it really should be. Also, I wish you hadn’t sent me this ask anonymously, because I now have no way of responding to you except publically, and Tumblr is seriously not a good place for this.

On a happier note, I’m very glad that you enjoyed DC! I’m very sorry for the extremely long hiatus! Unfortunately, I’ve been going through things that stopped me from writing for a long time. I hope that one day I can still come back and finish that story, in spite of everything! Have a good day/night! :)

*hugs*

#social issues #Anonymous #tl;dr

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kindabraveandlittlestupid · 6 years

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This isn't a point of nostalgia, I am only 32 and have only paid attention to so many debates over the years. Mostly the last three Presidents, so basically from 2000 to 2018 which you think would be a long time but in truth that's basically only 5 Presidential Campaigns. I cannot fathom a moment in my life where I was proud of how we conduct American debates. This is not a Right or Left issue, this is not a Media or Politicians issue... this is a failure on all fronts including that of us Citizens.

News channels capitulating to the demands of candidates who wish to establish the rules of the debate they are participating in. American citizens wanting a good show on stage over measuring the content of these men and women's character. Politicians being asked a question, ignoring said question and talking about whatever the fuck they want and no one stepping up saying “Hey Fuck Wit. We asked about Medicare and you just wasted your time talking on The Border. AGAIN!”

I am quite honestly ashamed that we allowed this to happen. The contestants of a game show don’t get to put forward the questions they have have the answers too. They don’t get to have a ‘correct’ answer when answering a different question that was never asked. Softball questions like “Who is your favorite musician?” to make them more likable is a hell of a lot less important than how they plan to conduct themselves diplomatically. The host should not be kissing the ass of the man or woman on stage they are supposed to be grilling for the sake of establishing a better democracy by allowing the American people to see who doesn't have a clue what they are doing and who actually has a plan/vision for the country.

As I said this is a failure across the board and the people who benefit from News Channels kowtowing and Publics complacency are the Shittiest Politicians who can say taglines like “Make America Great Again” without ever explaining how he plans to pay for his wall, what sort of statesmen he plans to conduct himself as or even how they even plan to MAGA. Which is how we got ourselves into this mess of someone who has increased the deficit by a trillion and has systematically weakened our relationships across the world. Am I taking a shot at Trump again? Fuck yeah, I am because the debates didn't take him to task and that perhaps would have put someone more qualified in the White House (Democrat or Conservative) in his place. Let’s face it, he is a fuck wit.

So we are at this point now where Politicians pick their voters (gerrymandering and a topic for another time), they pick their debater, the debate questions, they pick the answers they want to give regardless of the questions asked, and they get to lie about their intentions and beliefs with no adults holding them accountable to what they said before. This is why I am writing this article and calling it a “The Crucible” not to tie a stone to their feet to see if they sink or float but rather to live up to the definition of the word.

A situation of severe trial, or in which different elements interact, leading to the creation of something new.

This should be the aim of American Politics to put the men and women in power in intense scrutiny be they liberal or conservative. I am not saying we do not conduct ourselves without empathy or forgiveness of the past mistakes that some men and women might have made in their early life but look at the values they hold as they step into Office. Values that define how they will vote and judge issues that come across their desk.

So here is a list of ideas that I think will improve debate in the US allowing us to separate the pretenders from the visionaries, the dunces from the intellectuals, the reality TV stars from the patriotic civil servants.

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Cutting the Mic/Refocusing

On small thing we can add to debates is the ‘cut the mic’ option for the moderators. Far to often insults will be thrown between candidates, rants on none answers to an important question, and the domination of moderators is exploited on stage. If a candidate is asked about a subject he/she should answer said subject and if they try to switch topics the moderator should step in and cut their mic, repeat the question and reminding that individual to stay on topic. This might upset some individuals on stage but let's be honest they (the Politicians) serve the people and they don't get to change the narrative when we are asking them what their thoughts or beliefs are.

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Equal Time for 3rd Parties/Alternative Candidates

I think we Americans are pigeon held by the two-party system. We forgo third parties because MOST Americans understand the Spoiler Effect and the consequences of splitting the vote between two like-minded candidates will ultimately elect the other party which is furthest from their values. Pretty much the reason while Republicans fall in line behind their nominee which sadly the Bernie fans didn't get the memo on.

Anyways the Equal Time for 3rd Parties/Alternative Candidates is essential for a healthy democracy and the exploration of ideas. In the 2016 election, there were 6 people running under the Democratic Primary. Can you name them? Do you know what they believed in? It’s not Jill Stein (Green Party) or Gary Johnson (Libertarian Party). Don’t feel bad I only remembered 1 of the other 4 candidates besides Bernie and Hillary. This is mostly because the media provided heavy coverage to Hillary and Bernie while ignoring other options. This was much the same for Stein and Johnson having no memorable debate moments.

When we conduct the debate we need to ensure that each candidate receives an equal amount of serious questions and time to answer them. If a candidate wants to use his/her whole five minutes to speak, great! If they decide to turn over their remaining time to another candidate or back to the moderator, that would also be acceptable.

Call Backs

Very often a politician will be asked to answer for something they said in the past and explain their intent/context of what they are saying. Some will say “I never said that. Go back and read what I said.” We all know who’s said that in the past but the beauty of modern technology is we can summon those video clips instantly on a computer and we can share it with an audience right then an there with very little effort. It’s a very simple idea of pulling up videos, images, and quotes behind the candidates but an effective one because it will either A) Make candidates honestly answer what their intent/position was on the past and encourage them to avoid the call back or B) Immediately turn off the valve when a Politician attempts to gaslight an audience. It’s instant karma for those who attempt to lie their way through the questioning.

No Fluff Questions

We all know what Fluff Questions are, little softballs placed on a T-Ball stand for Candidates to answer to make them more likable. What kind of soda do you drink, who is your favorite band, what's your favorite football team and so on. None of these fucking questions matter. I don't care about the music they like, I don't care about ketchup on steak, and I don't care about the fo faith that some politicians pretend they have said they regularly read the bible and blah blah blah.

If candidates want to share these falsehoods and image during the campaign trail, fine I am ok with that. Even better if they decide to post it on their website in a bio page so people can see what they are into. However, during a debate, these individuals should be answering hard questions on policy, their vision for the country, questioned about past votes and/or judicial decisions, and should be held accountable for the beliefs/views they bring with them.

In a debate like this, we need questions on policies, beliefs, values, vision, and a fucking plan if they have one. Fluff questions just make you feel closer to the individual making you think he is just like you before he or she cuts your healthcare and runs up the debt. We smarter then this and the moderators are just as much to blame for tossing these questions out instead of asking real questions to root out the shit candidates.

Questions By The People, For The People

On occasion, an individual might stand up and asked a very important question that puts a gravity to a topic that may have not had before. These questions are important but also very rare as most people might have trouble articulating the right question to ask. I admit I sometimes do when thinking of questions on the spot. I believe this is where the Media, Journalists, and the Citizens work together to share their concerns and questions with moderators who will be conducting the debate and let them sift through the questions and turn them razor sharp inquiries to ask the candidates. This isn't to say people can't/shouldn't ask their questions but the beauty of having the people share their questions with an experienced moderator is that follow questions can be crafted ahead of time by a news team that can dig further and deeper than the vast majority of citizens.

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Conclusion

Debates, Interviews, Confirmation Hearings, and even Town Halls all suffer from these issues of Politicians deciding what they will and will not talk about. I would prefer to have a candidate say “I don’t know.” “I haven't thought about that.” ‘I will get back to you later on that” then go off on a rant to try and stir up the rest of the room with rhetoric. We collectively as citizens need to raise the bar for these men and women because if they had their way they would keep it as low as they possibly could to slither over it.

The Moderators IE the Media need to stop having this love affair with the RNC and DNC trying to charm them into letting them be the moderators. I know this is hard to do because they will take their candidates to another channel but the News Organizations are providing a civil service of keeping the public informed. If the organizations can come together and decide on a proper debate format/rules together and leave them (the candidates) no other options but to appear on one of their channels then it will no longer be the Politicians deciding the rules of debate but the moderators and the people. Thanks for reading.

Regards, Michael California

#Debate #Public Discourse #Debates #Politics #US Politics #Public Forum #Democracy

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