#and it turned off the anti capitalism

[midnight-specialist]

It’s 2023 and men are still posting “fuck bitches, get money 🤑” on their stories…

[passionfruitbowls]

[the-trans-dragon]

What if they didn't put ads every 3 posts. Three posts between ads, literally. Not even counting the ad for Tumblr Live.

Also what if tumblr didn't know what city Im in. I do not want my location tracked or stored anywhere unless I give explicit ongoing permission, like with my GPS app that I allow to track me only when the app is open, and then it deletes the data (allegedly) when I stop giving permission.

[glitchdollmemoria]

on the one hand i completely understand that the handful of assorted punk events in my area need money to function. i get it, i really do. but on the other hand where the fuck am i supposed to go as someone who literally cannot afford to spend anything more than i absolutely need to for survival? part of why im drawn to the punk subculture is because its a subculture full of other poor disenfranchised anticapitalists but it fucking sucks that even among the other poors im still not able to afford entry to their spaces.

again, this isnt me blaming people for needing money to be able to host events, or blaming musicians for deserving money for what they do. this is me blaming capitalism for putting human interaction behind a paywall. this is me blaming the people in charge for making it impossible for me to spend time with other people outside of work and online communities. if motherfuckers would stop hoarding wealth and let the rest of us have enough to not only thrive, but survive, then i could actually afford to support others in the community i want to be a part of, i could afford to make friends in my area and go have some damn fun. but i literally fucking cannot. i cannot afford social interaction.

and thats not even to mention how my disabilities factor into this - i cant drive, i cant walk far, i get extremely physically exhausted for weeks just from a little bit of overexertion. if i could afford a ridesharing service, so i could easily transport myself and my wheelchair, then it would be ten thousand times easier to go out and enjoy myself without putting myself in danger. if i could know for sure that venues were accessible, i wouldnt have to worry about exhausting myself just from trying to exist in those places. if being multiply disabled didnt make it so fucking difficult to support myself financially, if there were proper social safety nets in place instead of an SSA that refuses to respond to my attempts to just get help applying for supplementary income, if i werent treated as a broken worthless cog in the machine of profit, then i could fucking exist in peace and go out and have fun so much more easily, even with all the obstacles my disabilities bring me. but none of that is the case.

something something, capitalism and ableism go hand in hand, something something, i hate feeling like im on the outskirts even in fringe subcultures. yeah. sure. thats the moral of this post i guess

[chilledagridolce27]

Quitting my job soon (I already put in my 2 wks) and asked my manager for feedback.

Apart from some heming and hawing, he said something that ironically made me laugh so loud I'm still giggling while thinking about it

Lmaoooooooo

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[ladyshinga]

“lol you realize Barbie is only a marketing movie, right? it’s just SELLING STUFF, you know that right? capitalism? lol?”

You’re too late.

Like, you’re not wrong, but you are wildly late on this one.

No one is under the impression that this movie isn’t marketing a toy line.

But that toy line? Has been on this earth longer than you’ve been. Barbie is old. Barbie is everywhere. We’ve all seen a commercial if not owned at least one Barbie doll in our lifetimes (or a knock-off you get emotionally attached to even if the weird mean girl down the street keeps making fun of it) (fuck you Christie that doll was a hero)

Advertising is everywhere. I can’t turn the TV on without ads, even on streaming services that used to brag how ad-free they were. I can’t browse social media without ads. I can’t see a movie or a show without products being “subtly” shown off.

We’re haunted by ads at every goddamn turn, we can’t even talk to an old friend from high school without them trying to sell us something.

If you think you’re making some radical grand statement by pointing out that Barbie is a toy line made by a big company that wants to sell more things... bud. We know that.

We know.

Greta Gerwig seems like she had a lot of fun with this movie, the actors had a lot of fun, the set design is fun.

No one is looking forward to Barbie because we think it’s some kind of beautiful radical anti-capitalist message just WAITING to break the world of its delusions of consumerism. God, could you imagine?

We’re looking forward to a bunch of actors dressed in pink having a lot of fun. We know the movie will make people want Barbie stuff, maybe they’ll go out and buy it, maybe they’re too broke because the world is expensive right now and we’ve got bills. But if “this movie will advertise things to you” was a dealbreaker we’d never see anything.

Because Barbie isn’t unique in this. A LOT of modern movies just want you to buy things, or admire/join the American military, etc etc. Money runs things here. Even capitalism stans know it runs everything (though they’re generally okay with it). Ads are our lives even when we use ad blockers and do our best to ignore the ones we see.

We’re seeing Barbie because it looks silly and fun, not because we’re putting it up on a pedestal expecting it to change the world. And we’re kidding and being silly when we DO act like that. Because goddammit, IT’S BARBIE. We’re acting like we acted when we played with dolls as kids, we’re PLAYING, we’re having fun. When I was a kid I absolutely pretended my Barbies could save the world and were magical and powerful. Didn’t mean she actually was.

These are toys. And we like to play. That doesn’t erase the capitalist motivations of Mattel, but it doesn’t have to mean we “support” their evils. We want to play, we want to enjoy play, even when we’re trapped in a capitalist hellscape where like 80% of our day to day fun is sold to us

[popponn]

here and there, about him.

summary: is he perfect? no, just like anyone else. but there will always be something about him. (aka a snippets of one of many, many things he will do for you.)

notes: missing lovesick bllk boys trope for a hot minute while doing other stuffs. short and light stuffs to scratch the itch. was about to isagi and nagi, but turns out self control is still a thing for me. warning: none, just minor swearing + fluffs capital f of smitten boys, chigiri is ready to fight for you. reader's gender unspecified.

characters: rin, chigiri, kaiser.

itoshi rin is very, very much very obvious in his favoritism to you. so obvious that both his teammates and his brother told him to tone it down a little bit. of course, rin only scoffs and tells them to mind their own business (actually he said it more as ’fuck off, cretins’, but details). but, really, no one could exactly blame them. this guy could be in an ongoing tirade about how person a is an utterly pathetic soggy wet trash, then you greet him with a smile and he turns into a cold, suave, rich boyfriend on a snowy winter day. drape his jacket on you, hold your hand, and ’let you hug him from behind while discreetly intertwining your finger with his’ type of stuff. it’s a bit disgusting, honestly. and no one wants to start commenting on how he immediately looks in your direction after scoring a goal. also if he buys something, the only one who has the slightest bit of hope of ever receiving anything is his brother here—and that chance is very miniscule on its own since none of them are you. put simply, it’s a bit infuriating, yet undeniably infuriatingly cute in its own way to watch. especially when there is a very high chance you will be the one and only romance this anti-social guy will ever have. everyone in the team supports the two of you, but by gods maybe please do something about him a little bit?

chigiri hyoma will never let anyone hurt you. it’s common knowledge already that he takes no shit from anyone and ever since he has seen you as ‘the one’, he pretty much already thinks of you as an inseparable part of his life already. so, in other words, that means you have gotten yourself a boyfriend who is ready to become a biting guard dog at a moment's notice. someone insults you? tries to physically harm you? oh, baby, hold your boyfriend back because he is also known to get angry real quick. save his reputation and hold himself back from spouting words that would make someone’s ancestors cry or, worse, from beating someone up. this is a speedster athlete trained by ego jinpachi himself—no one could escape unscathed from something like that. but hey, this is someone who naturally turns into a shoujo manga male lead with soft gazes and flowery smiles the moment you put a hand on his cheek. this is, in a way, just another way for him to protect and make sure of your comfort. also, he needs to have an outlet for the less soft part somewhere other than soccer.

michael kaiser is very reliable and observant, despite whatever persona or deflection he will give you even in the ‘official already’ part of your relationship. this guy has a high ego and puts on an air of someone high and mighty, beyond your league. but everyone all knows if you get to the part where he proudly lets you wear his clothes or makes sure you stay pressed to his side during walks, he is down bad. still, for his sake and maybe everyone else’s, let him take care of you and act casually about it. don’t point it out when he suddenly crouches down and ties your untied shoelaces, keep talking as if nothing happened when he puts a hand in the small of your back, and just act as if nothing happened when he gives someone a ferocious glare while making sure you cling unto his arm. don’t praise or, god forbid, swoon at those. it will only make him get flustered and lose his composure or, worse, get real annoying. he is indeed good at the whole act of service thing, surprisingly, but please do remember his attitude is indeed also in the ‘piece of shit’ category most of the time. just let the yellow and blue betta fish swim at his own pace and let what means to happen in the future, happen at its own time, including giving praises to him without him reacting like a lovesick brat.

[our-trans-punk-experience]

I need a butt ton of ideas for political/controversial patches if you would be so kind, throw shit at me >:)

Anything pro trans/lgbtq+ related, anti SA, human rights, mental health, wrecking shit up, etc would be great! Anything works tho

ok im just gonna rattle off mine

hands off trans bodies

no uterus no opinion

black lives matter

eat the rich

tories out

defy tory rule

queer love is revolutionary

rEVOLution with the EVOL turned the wrong way so it reads rLOVEution

up with trees, down with capitalism

punch facists

feminism shouldn't be exclusionary

not just another cog in the murder machine

fast fashion is kiling earth

trans rights are human rights

no-one is illegal

give no fucks, take no orders, smash the prisons and the borders

no nations, no borders

anarchy symbols everywhere

trans anarchy like my pfp

burn it all

no war but the class war

a molotov

no cops at pride

acab

1312

stop bombs falling

dead men don't rape

ok theres loads more but thats a long post

[robertreich]

Should Billionaires Exist? 

Do billionaires have a right to exist?

America has driven more than 650 species to extinction. And it should do the same to billionaires.

Why? Because there are only five ways to become one, and they’re all bad for free-market capitalism:

1. Exploit a Monopoly.

Jamie Dimon is worth $2 billion today… but not because he succeeded in the “free market.” In 2008, the government bailed out his bank JPMorgan and other giant Wall Street banks, keeping them off the endangered species list.

This government “insurance policy” scored these struggling Mom-and-Pop megabanks an estimated $34 billion a year.

But doesn’t entrepreneur Jeff Bezos deserve his billions for building Amazon?

No, because he also built a monopoly that’s been charged by the federal government and 17 states for inflating prices, overcharging sellers, and stifling competition like a predator in the wild.

With better anti-monopoly enforcement, Bezos would be worth closer to his fair-market value.

2. Exploit Inside Information

Steven A. Cohen, worth roughly $20 billion headed a hedge fund charged by the Justice Department with insider trading “on a scale without known precedent.” Another innovator!

Taming insider trading would level the investing field between the C Suite and Main Street.

3.  Buy Off Politicians

That’s a great way to become a billionaire! The Koch family and Koch Industries saved roughly $1 billion a year from the Trump tax cut they and allies spent $20 million lobbying for. What a return on investment!

If we had tougher lobbying laws, political corruption would go extinct.

4. Defraud Investors

Adam Neumann conned investors out of hundreds of millions for WeWork, an office-sharing startup. WeWork didn’t make a nickel of profit, but Neumann still funded his extravagant lifestyle, including a $60 million private jet. Not exactly “sharing.”

Elizabeth Holmes was convicted of fraud for her blood-testing company, Theranos. So was Sam Bankman-Fried of crypto-exchange FTX. Remember a supposed billionaire named Donald Trump? He was also found to have committed fraud.

Presumably, if we had tougher anti-fraud laws, more would be caught and there’d be fewer billionaires to preserve.

5. Get Money From Rich Relatives

About 60 percent of all wealth in America today is inherited.

That’s because loopholes in U.S. tax law —lobbied for by the wealthy — allow rich families to avoid taxes on assets they inherit. And the estate tax has been so defanged that fewer than 0.2 percent of estates have paid it in recent years.

Tax reform would disrupt the circle of life for the rich, stopping them from automatically becoming billionaires at their birth, or someone else’s death.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing against big rewards for entrepreneurs and inventors. But do today’s entrepreneurs really need billions of dollars? Couldn’t they survive on a measly hundred million?

Because they’re now using those billions to erode American institutions. They spent fortunes bringing Supreme Court justices with them into the wild.They treated news organizations and social media platforms like prey, and they turned their relationships with politicians into patronage troughs.

This has created an America where fewer than ever can become millionaires (or even thousandaires) through hard work and actual innovation.

If capitalism were working properly, billionaires would have gone the way of the dodo.

[a-very-tired-jew]

Columbia University's Joint Anti-Israel Groups Go Mask Off

Hey, remember how Columbia University had students in encampments protesting for months? Remember how their SJP, BDS movement, and associated groups endorsed terrorism, violence, and "resistance by any means"?

I remember. Well their joint SJP and BDS group called CU Apartheid Divest just posted something to their Instagram that shows it has never been about Palestine or Palestinians.

Fig. 1. CU Apartheid Divest group, made of SJP, BDS, and other groups openly admits that they are anti-Western Civilization

Read that again.

"We are Westerners fighting for the total eradication of Western civilization."

That's a wild statement to make.

So what are they posting about suddenly that has them revealing their intent for their actions since October?

Bangladesh.

The CU Activists are attempting to liken October 7th attack by Hamas with the Bangladesh student protests. Bangladesh had a quota based employment system that students were protesting, the government responded violently, and everything escalated from there due to years of government corruption, violence, and economic turmoil. This was a protest turned revolution within a country by its own people. This was not a government run by a recognized terrorist group attacking another country, killing civilians, and taking them hostage.

However, the differences and reasons between Hamas's actions and the actions of the students in Bangladesh do not matter to the anti-Zionist Activist.

We've seen this repeatedly from these activists that they will try to liken their movement and/or attach it to other conflicts around the world. Many of these conflicts differ greatly from the Israel/Hamas war as they are internal issues with internal actors being involved.

Bangladesh is students protesting against their government.

Sudan is going through a civil war between various factions.

The Congo has been experiencing decades long violence as various militias fight each other for control.

Yet I've see anti-Israel protestors tag their posts with Free Bangladesh, Free Congo, Free Sudan even though these conflicts differ in origin and parties involved.

If you continue through the IG post you'll see very little information as to the cause of the protest/revolution in Bangladesh and continued attempts to coopt the actions for their movement.

Fig. 2. CU Apartheid Divest group tries to liken its student movements to the student protests in Bangladesh and calls to escalate.

I can't help but think that the CU student activists yearn to be oppressed in a way that would allow them to respond like revolutions and protests around the world. The way they speak and write exudes a yearning for violence. In Fig. 2. they detail the actions taken by students against an authoritarian government that has actively shot and killed protestors. Whereas here in the USA the students were forcibly removed from campuses, experienced some police violence, were arrested, and then released. No curfews with a shoot on sight policy were imposed here in the USA in response to college campus protests.

Fig. 3. CU Apartheid Divest classifies this as an Intifada and likens it to Hamas's attack.

Notice in Fig. 3. that they're trying to call the actions in Bangladesh an Intifada. Not an intifada, but an Intifada which is a proper noun with its own connotation. I know I may be a stickler here, but if I see that word capitalized then I know it's referencing the First and Second Intifadas, and I know that these student groups have been calling for a Third one under the guise of "Global Intifada". They also say that Westerners need to escalate and are "obligated" to do so.

Fig. 4. CU Apartheid Divest uses tankie terminology, refers to Bangladeshis as martyrs, and calls this part of the Global Intifada.

The terminology in Fig. 4. also shows how much the Free Palestine student movement in the USA is not actually about Palestine, Palestinians, or any other movement it tries to attach itself to. These are tankies as indicated by the use of "comrades" and they are wholly opposed to Western Civilization. They genuinely state that their movement should violently escalate here in the USA and that they should be prepared for "sacrifices". This language when coupled with the use of Intifada is alarming as it appears that these student activists are preparing to follow in the footsteps of the Second Intifada, or at the very least calling for others to do so.

These students, whom call themselves the Militants of Hind's Hall (seen in the IG post, but not pictured here), are coopting, or attempting to coopt, movements and conflicts from around the world for their own ideals. As these are students in the USA who are arguably experiencing the least amount of oppression when compared to these other conflicts, and are actively attending Ivy League or R1 universities, it can only be assumed that they're yearning to live out their Glorious Revolution fantasy.

I am under no illusion that I understand their reasoning. Are things perfect here in the USA? Of course not, but when compared to the countries that these student protestors are attaching themselves to, we are leaps and bounds better. And if you disagree, then I have to ask, when was the last time we had a curfew with a shoot on sight policy?

Anyone attempting to call this movement and group "peaceful" is naive. They've been telling you for months that they're not peaceful, that their goals are not peaceful, and that the only peace they want is after they commit violence.

The IG link for reference

[ferritins]

THIS TORNADO LOVES YOU | S. RILEY

SUMMARY: Simon takes a step you never thought he would, in a way you’d never imagine.

NOTES: the endearment ‘pet’ is used once, in an “author grew up in The Midlands City God Forgot AKA Leicester” way, not the kink way. credit for the idea for this piece goes to @bleuu-moon, who’s post about Simon letting you take off the mask has been living in my head rent free bills and utilities included for ages.

disclaimer; whilst I’m down bad for fictional men who are taller than me, I also an anti-militarism pro disarmament pacifist. COD and other military games a recruitment tool for the armed forces, and PMCs are just a way for governments to outsource war crimes to avoid The Hague. do not enlist; big oil and genocidaires are not worth dying for and armed service will chew you up and shit you out to die as soon as you are physically or psychologically incapable of dying for the sake of capital.

You come home to Simon illuminated by your television, scant blood splotches blackish on his fatigue sleeves.

“Um. Is any of that yours?” You venture, dropping your keys in their designated dish, casting a careful eye over your lover. “I thought we had come to an agreement about you actively bleeding all over my sofa cushions after last time.”

Simon grunts.

You roll your eyes.

“Words, love.”

“Just got back from Santo Domingo.” You hiss a quiet breath through your teeth, wincing as you turn to hang your coat; the boys had been following an organisation of information brokers trading in NATO military intelligence, the kind of people with whom contact was both rare and in its eventuality, incredibly bloody.

Nevertheless, Simon has never been someone who is particularly receptive to sympathy; by the time you turn back around to face him, your face is carefully neutral.

“Did you achieve your mission objective? Wait, more importantly, you didn’t answer my question; are you bleeding?”

There’s a bitter little chuckle. “Affirmative to the first, negative to the second.”

The air sits heavy as you and Simon watch one another, flashes of colour and light bouncing off the skull of his mask like a nightmare in Technicolor.

Just when the tension reaches the point of being unbearable, Simon speaks.

“They knew your name.” He says, voice basso profundo with his gathering fury.

A frisson of fear runs down your spine — not at Simon, not after all this time, but at the information — before dissipating like cigarette smoke in a hurricane.

It’s a target on your back, sure, but it is one of dozens. Your career has made you many enemies.

“They trade in military intelligence, Simon, which is pretty much my entire area of specialty.”

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“Do you think I’m a shrinking violet? What, should I give up my Lance Corporal’s stripe and my job? You met me when I was working signal intercept radio intelligence on RAF Ascension Island, for God’s sake.”

“You’d be safer.” Simon’s voice has taken on as much of a pleading tone as he’s capable of.

“I’d be miserable.” You retort.

“Fuck.” Simon snarls, a savage sigh of breath leaving him. “You know I’m not gonna leave your side after today, pet? Gonna get sick of my face.”

“If this is supposed to irritate me into obscurity, it’s not going to work. I like the mask, and having six foot eight of perfectly built spec ops soldier at my back isn’t exactly a hardship.” You snarl.

“Simon’s head tilts, predatory.

I”I said my face, lovie.”

Your heart starts hammering.

“”Simon, you’ve not been barefaced in front of someone in nigh on a decade. Your personnel file doesn’t have a photograph of you, and the only one that exists of you is redacted so far only His Maj can see it. For fuck’s sake, you’ve torn men’s throats out for so much as touching your mask.”

“Simon hums an affirmative, a mocking note under the tone of it.

“So now you’re scared of what intelligence gathering can lead to? Scared I’ll tear your throat out, hm?”

“Fuck you.” You snarl. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not going to let you violate your own autonomy and boundaries to prove a point, you supercilious son of a—“

“You’re the one taking it off.” Simon interrupts.

“You’re insane.”

“If you’re not going underground to wait this out, I’m gonna be living in your fucking shadow, sweetheart, breathing in your every exhale, and I can’t do that when all they know me for is the mask. The next person to so much as look at you sideways is going to die, slow and bloody, and my face is going to be the last thing they see.”

Your next inhale is shaky. Simon, sensing blood in the water, goes for the kill.

“Either you can look me in the face, acknowledge what you’re dooming anyone who hurts you to, or you back down.”

Even as you’re swinging a leg over both of Simon’s to situate yourself in his lap, you’re aware of how hideously stupid what you’re doing is.

Bolstered my nothing but bravado and an inkling of curiosity, and with your pulse rabbiting, you slowly pull up his balaclava, revealing his face to you piecemeal; a strong jaw, a bottom-heavy mouth, a patrician nose broken thrice and healed right only twice, whispers of long blonde eyelashes, and brown eyes, dark as bitumen.

On anybody else, the features would be discordant, too much dissonance to be cohesive; on Simon, they work.

His face is arresting, more than handsome; you can’t help but look at him.

His top lip is pulled up into a perpetual snarl on the left by a long deep furrow of scar tissue that starts just under his eye.

There’s a silvery scar about a half-inch long from his hair line, and his cheeks are dotted with faint demarcations; nicks from shrapnel and knifepoint, you assume.

All flat eyes and scarring, this is perhaps this most dangerous Simon has looked to you in a while.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say, referring to both your job and Simon’s unmasking. “I’m not backing down.”

Simon is a big man, and has a surprising amount of heft to him, even when he's not trying.

His hands are large enough that even the love tap to your rump has you tipping into him. Your front is pressed to his, and you're looking up, up, up into his eyes, bearing witness to the way hunger floods them, a hungry kind of dark pouring into his gaze like an oil slick in the Mediterranean Sea.

“And I’m not backing off. Hell or high water, death or desertion; we’re in this together for good now, you and I.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been in the development hell folder of my Google docs for like two months so if it’s shite that’s no longer my problem I’m afraid 😭🙏🏽 thank you for reading! please do not recommend/repost on TikTok.

[trainchomp]

I think this really brings to light my biggest problem with AI which is that big companies are using it to treat me like a child.

aww do you need help writing a list, buddy? how about I summarise some web pages for you? surely you're not smart enough to use the feature Google already has that highlights the part of each recommended article that you're searching for and literally opens the article to that section when you click

AI has in no way improved my life. it's given me more annoying pop-ups and sparkly buttons that I have to scroll past and cannot turn off. and companies know this. AI has been widely unprofitable. and now they look like idiots for pouring so much money and man power into it and they have to prove to the investors that it was worth something, so they're just shoving as many AI "features" into their apps as they possibly can in the hopes that they maybe make it into the black this quarter.

but yeah. help me write a list.

actually begging companies to stop shoving AI down my throat cause what the hell is this

why would I need help writing a list? if I wanted to write a list don't you think I would, I dunno, know what the list was about and a few things I want to put on it?? what do I need help with?

[impyssadobsessions]

DPxDC idea/prompt Pen Pals

(Probably more idea but you can run with the concept... im so srry XD) Basically Danny and Damian are pen pals- until Damian receives a letter with Lazarus Water and Blood smeared on the page.

WHAT IF Danny and Damian were pen pals before Danny's accident. A school project for 8th grade. Damian was reluctant to participate but due to it being a grade and being pestered by his siblings that he would just scare the kid off anyways, he deciding to partake in this pen pal. Danny whose not suffering at school, just living a normal life at the moment, is being teased by Dash saying his pen pal could smell loser before even opening the letter. Asking Danny if his parents even let him open the letter or blast it thinking its a ghost. Which makes Danny who wasn't into this idea of writing a stranger more determined to do it. Besides they might only get one letter and teachers drop the subject. They might not even get it. So what the heck. Turns out they become the only ones that constantly wrote each other- even mailing it in person once the school ended the program. (Damian having a post box set up for letters)

At first it was awkward. Danny commented/asking if Damian really was their age or some teacher pretending to write back instead of sending out the letters. If so. He sucks at it because what kid writes perfectly grammar letters and big words to convey something is cool. Guess its better than pretending he knows slang. Damian furious writes back, offended! Also asks if he isn't younger, because everyone with basic english should know to capitalize their letters! This goes back and fourth. Danny writing back every chance he got, and Damian doing the same, even being told not to at the dinner table. It goes from offended at each other to being curious. Danny asking Damian more advice on english because it isn't his favorite subject. Damian asking more about how to sound like his age. Then it devolves to animals. Danny wishing he had one, but his parents didn't want one getting into the lab. Damian happily sending picture of his animals. Danny talking more about the stars.. etc. Until Accident happens- Danny starts having trouble writing the letters. His pen with phase through his hand and replies between them got longer. Danny justifying this by saying he's having trouble with schooling this year. Damian also been unable to send as many replies because he's been busy with teen titans and other heroics. Though he's encouraging Danny saying Danny is far smarter than that school even is aware of. Until one day, after months of not being able to reply. He finds Damian's letter again. It makes him feel better. Even if Damian didn't know him... this person still believes in Danny... Though Danny feels guilty about it- it compels him to write him again. He was about to finish the letter when he gets blasted by a ghost. He returns from the fight, beaten and bloody. He picks up the letter and sighs at the green stain left on it. Folding it up he stuffs it into his bag. Next day after hurrying off to school, his mother finds the letter after it had fallen on the floor. She read a little bit of it and immediately recognize it was to Danny's penpal. She takes the opportunity to try her knew anti-ecto spray and mails it for Danny. "Boy just like his father. So messy. I'll have to give him a lecture about ecto-contamination again." Damian just returned from a mission from Teen Titans, been gone for three months. Alfred informs Damian he had received a letter from his anonymous pen pal in his absence. Damian had almost forgotten about the pen pal- thinking his pal just didn't want to answer anymore. So eagerly he goes to his room to open the letter, but immediately blood drain from his face as his eyes zoomed back the feathery ink to the green blotch of lazurus water.. having almost evaporated.. leaving a water stain that glowed... and more importantly.. the human specks of blood that was revealed with the driest parts of the stain. Damian immediately rushes to the cave.. only to find out his paranoia was right.... and was it his fault his friend was harmed? Also the idea of Damian talking to Phantom in his robin suit. Asking how Daniel Fenton was.. and Phantom surprised and slips out a "Alive as much as he's dead." Damian glaring and Phantom corrects, "He's fine. He has parents that are ghost hunters is all." Stressing his situation complicated. Phantom just so shocked his pen pal is a hero- annnnd also cursing his mom for sending a letter like that. HE KNEW IT WOULD SEND IMPLICATIONS!

but idk if I figured out a good way for Damian to see the smeared letter. I just think it be fun. Also Damian thinking he's to blame for league going after the fentons when he wasn't. At least not as early as he thought. He's very focused on saving/protecting Danny Fenton.. which makes Phantom's job harder.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I heard a raw line from Guilllermo Del Toro the other day about monsters being the perfect way to express human failure:

“…monsters, I believe, are patron saints of our blissful imperfection, and they allow and embody the possibility of failing.”

And i was wondering your take on this quote in relation to things like vampire and werewolf and other semi-monster subtexts. “Monstrous” humans that are ironically allowed to act more human more often than… humans. I just find the attempt to make an outlet for imperfection while still at large criticizing it fascinating.

I mean, yeah, there's a long history of interpreting monsters through queer, anti-colonial, feminist and other Outsider lenses for exactly those reasons. The monster is the Other who is vilified by the in-group, which represents all that the in-group hates. The monster must, by its nature, fail to live up to the standards and expectations of the in-group, which is why it must be destroyed. But that also means the monster is free from the standards and expectations of the in-group, including oppressive and bigoted ones.

So, as an example, if you're queer, and rhetorically treated as inhuman and monstrous and diseased anyway, or eugenically classified as a deviant mutation or sub-derivation of "real" people, there is real appeal and a real sense of resistance in claiming monsterhood, in embracing it and glorying in it.

In part, that's what the rallying cry "we're here, we're queer, get used to it!" meant and still means. It is a reclaiming of monsterhood as a source of strength and community and pride, rather than shame. Slurs are used to Other queer people, to set them apart from "real" people and mark them out as a monstrous deviation from the virtuous norm - slurs are used to call us monsters. And thus a lot of queer people find a lot of power and freedom in reclaiming them, in turning their Othering into a flag to rally around.

And I think that's still a big part of the appeal of the monster, honestly, that freedom from being what someone else thinks you ought to be.

If you're a monster, you don't have to have the perfect body, you don't have to suppress your lust or your love. You don't have to shave your body hair or dress correctly for your assigned gender, or have a white picket fence house with a spouse and 2.3 children. You don't have to sit primly at the dinner table, you don't have to repress your emotions, you don't have to hate the foreigner or despise the gays or fear the trans agenda. You don't have to have a small, straight nose or perfect cheekbones, you don't have to wait to fuck until you're married, or pretend you want to fuck at all. You don't have to want to get rich or be a CEO, you don't have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps or be on your grindset, or cheer when the cops clear out a homeless camp.

To be a monster is to be free from the inhumanity that is forced on us by white supremacy, by fatphobia, by heteronormativity, by imperialism, and by the interests of capital. To be a monster is to be human in all the ways that are inconvenient to oppression.

... but I went off on a tangent there a little bit - vampires and werewolves, right. I have no theoretical or academic basis for any of this, so this is entirely a personal hot take, but I think vampires are perhaps a bit more about "passing" as a fantasy. Not necessarily in a gender sense, but the ability to keep your true nature undetected by the "normal" folk, while the secret things that make you different also make you dangerous and powerful. Surviving by stealing sustenance from a world that hates you, on terms that are entirely yours to dictate. "I will survive even if it kills you," that kind of vibe.

Werewolves, on the other hand, feel more like a defiant, angry embrace of the monstrous. Transforming into something vast and powerful and furious, growing out of your skin, out of your form, out of your boundaries; howling your nature to the moon and mauling any motherfucker who has a problem with it. Giving in to all the beastly unnatural urges, and diving into the horrible monstrous wants and desires that boil inside you (which, remember, include things like Not Wanting To Fuck or Wanting To Hold A Girl's Hand In A Lesbian Sort Of Way). Less the "I outfoxed your social game and drank you dry" slick vampire power fantasy and more the "call me a slur one more time and I'm going to wear your entrails like a fucking scarf" power fantasy.

Again, that's just personal hot takes, everyone's understanding of the monstrous in relation to themselves is different. I've seen a number of genderfluid and nb people use monstrousness as a way to defy occupying a shape that can be gendered for example.

[postmoe]

MORE OBEY ME FICS!! PLS I BEG!! PERERABLY ONE WITH DIAVOLO IN IT PLEASEEE MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH Let's do a little world building

sex for favour, contracts, apocolypse au, religious references, yandere

You really, really, really hate using your contracts. Not only does it take a toll on your body, a part of your soul being syphoned out each time but, the aftermath is also unpleasant.

Your story is typical, home demolished by Angelic monsters, rejects cast down from Heaven that didn't quite make it to Hell. Family and friends gone, only some survivors remained that were either not in your village or left with less body parts. The killing blow to your ideals was learning that the Capital had denied help from Exterminators, their best exorcist too far away and no one else willing to fight against a Throne of all creatures. No one even came to look for survivors since it was a waste of resources on a gamble not worth betting on.

Angels trudged all along the Earth, the lowest orders scattered around like pests. Middle orders tend to be the 'boss' of these groups. The highest order, Thrones, were much like natural disasters; sudden, with little warning.

It wasn't easy, and though many still prayed to the Heavens for help and despised any anti-religious behaviour, you had separated long ago from that group. An outcast of an exorcist, making deals with demons to gain enough power to kill angels. Years have gone by and no one knows how you manage to keep Avatars of Sin on your side.

No one knows you've had to sell yourself to young King of the Devildom, either.

You can harness their powers into your weapons, your soul used as fuel for very powerful attacks. To bring of them to aid you in battle, however, costs a little bit more.

.

Your arm is torn at the shoulder, fingers on your right hand bent backwards, broken. Your right eye was swollen shut, and your left leg had a flag pole through the thigh.

Ribs broken, blood coughing from your mouth, this Throne was more powerful than any other you've faced. You wonder if Lucifer could handle it, already knowing he requires your help with Thrones alone. Or maybe that was just him being a nuisance to you? You're not sure, and you're not really in a position to risk it now.

The angel before you rises, a dark mass covered in mouths, constantly laughing as you had sliced and cut through its body. When you thought you were doing well, it had suddenly stopped its incessant cackle, the hundreds of mouths on the castle-like mass opening wider than any creature you know, red veined eyes appearing and staring at you unblinkingly. Pure horror had struck you, though you were still able to force yourself to fight. Lucifer's power had damaged it enough, you really did think you won.

... Until it shed it's crust. Wet, tar-covered wings rose from the inside, two, four, eight, sixteen in all sorts of directions. You were lucky to not be hit, the tar latching to any living thing it flicked to and devouring it, turning it to a walking corpse. You were blinded by a golden light, more cracking of the crust, dust shredding once it finally propelled out. Your jaw slacked, it was somehow even bigger, the carnage of a mansion, houses, farmlands, all nothing but a playmat below it. Four of its wings dragged on the ground, the feathery limbs surrounding wheels of golden wings, mouths laughing at you, eyes unblinking and twitching in every direction. The very middle was a pair of black lips, human teeth like eyelashes over the outside of a giant, weeping eye.

You wonder if you can even pull this off?

Exhaling all your nerves, trying your best to focus as you sit slumped in the mud against a cracked boulder, you close your good eyes murmur under your breath, the words bubbling through blood, "In the name of the Exterminator, (Y/n), I call upon the aid of the demon monarch. Come forth, please, Diavolo."

Silence follows, as though a rushing river is hit with a sudden calm. When you finally open your good eye, you see Diavolo in all his glory, a low whistle reaching your hearing as he places his hand on his hips and admired the creature before you, "Just what have you gotten yourself into this time, Miss (Y/n)?"

You open your mouth to speak, only for your lungs to concave and more blood pushing up your oesophagus. The spell was apparently too much.

Diavolo smiles kindly at you, holding one of his hands up, a soft light from his palm sending all the aches and pains away, "Rest now, Miss (Y/n). You've done well to get this far."

If it weren't for the serene spell he used, you would have felt scared to become so vulnerable before a demon and an angel, contrarily you were all but eager to rest your head against the boulder and sleep.

.

When you next awoke, you were tucked into bed. Your fingers were back in place, you had bandages around your legs, arms, torso and neck. What was broken and out of place had been promptly fixed and the terrible, hellish pain you endured was now dull compared before.

You also didn't miss the way the demon lord was lapping his wet tongue between your legs, giving kisses to your clit before making out with your pussy.

His eyes met yours as his tongue delved deeper, an appreciative moan eliciting from him as you clenched around his tongue. Another kiss before he pulls away enough to talk, "Apologies, you weren't waking up and it's almost been 24 hours."

As much as you want to bark at him to get off, you recognise the pact. You needed to provide some sexual favour for the demons within 24 hours of summoning. It was embarrassing, demeaning, you felt horrible about it. They seemed to thrive off of all these feelings.

If you didn't do it, the energy depleted from the experience would double each hour, putting you out of commission for a longer time.

"I'm surprised you didn't wait," you croak, jerking when he goes back to tonguing your insides like a creature in love, "You would have gained more... food. Or, whatever it is you get out of this."

He chuckles and moves up, your thighs going over his own so he could take out his thick, throbbing cock and smack the fat of it against your stomach, "Believe it or not, I don't want to make you suffer just yet, I'll wait until I have you in my castle for that. Besides, I'm quite busy as the King." Your lips part when he nudges the head between your lips, rubbing up and down to gather your slick so he can push in nicer. The smile on his lips was too nice for a demon, "I'm quite surprised you lasted that long before summoning help, though."

Your stomach bulges from the length of his cock, humping into you upwards to really feel your body around him. His large hands graze over your hips, squeezing the flesh of your stomach before coming to cup your cheeks in a gentle embrace. Your tits rub against his pecs, and though it feels really good, you keep talking about what just happened, "It wasn't like any other Throne I've fought, hah... I think they're getting stronger."

"Throne?" He laughs, kissing you deeply, tongue tasting before his lips retreat with a wet smack, "That was no mere Ophanim, dearest. You were up against a creature on par with the Cherubim."

Of course, you knew the rankings of angels in the Celestial realm, everyone who has been forced into this situation does. It was just easier to name the monsters after those rankings. A lot of people didn't like it, though it didn't stop anyone. "Ngnn~" You move your hands to his shoulders, looking for purchase as his cock rubs deliciously inside you. You can feel your energy draining, the way Lord Diavolo holding you was like he was trying to cage you to him. "I thought only Throne rankings had made it to earth?"

"Cum for me, dearest. Only think about the pleasure you're feeling right now," he orders, biting into your neck and sucking on your skin. His lips move to below your ear, tickling you with a light flick of his tongue. One of his hands had trailed over your ribs, past your belly button and began circling and pinching your clit. Your toes curl before stretching out in pleasure, panting while you clench down around his cock, feeling the weight of his balls push into you as he empties his cum as deep as he can. You feel the trickle of your own fluid down your thighs from your orgasm.

His lips are panting over your own, though you know he isn't anywhere near as out of breath as you are. "Should I be worried?" You questioned, wishing he would avert his loving gaze from your own tired eyes.

Lord Diavolo gives you one more kiss, his cock slipping out and letting his cum overflow onto the sheets, "I have it on good intel that something big is coming. If you come across another Ophanim you must call one of us, if not multiple. And be careful..." he ominously states, standing to fix his regale, tucking away his satisfied dick, "I think a Seraphim might be visiting soon."