#communist rap

[bobsavage]

New UNSKILLED LABOR track! 'Creating Shareholder Value' ft Bobbi QELD A Denver to Bristol collaboration!!

[catgirl-kaiju]

song i'm sharing for no particular reason :)

[ponysongbracket]

Worst MLP Song Tournament

Please listen to both songs before voting. Remember you’re voting for the WORSE song.

Snips and Snails Rap Propaganda: As if they did not even try

Derby Racers Propaganda: has one line that gets stuck in my head from time to time but it isn't memorable at all. I could not tell you any other part of the song

[guavagyal]

are the City Girls mean? or are they just holding up a mirror of how capitalism commodifies love & sex?

[satanhasapisskink]

I’ve been listening to the most somber shit ever even though i haven’t been happier than i am right now for about 5 years. @horseonvhs

@aragon-is-done :-) ur turn to show me 5 songs youve been listening to lately!!!

[prickly-paprikash]

Kendrick doesn't just hate Drake as a person. He hates the very idea of Drake.

Hip-Hop is rooted in revolution. In defiance. These are the songs of an oppressed group of people, and decades upon decades people have hated it. Accused of being meaningless and invalid. Media outlets took steps to belittle hip-hop and make sure it isn't recognized as an art form and as a means to fight back.

2Pac spoke of wealth disparity and inequality. Tupac was literally a member of a communist organization when he was younger and never stopped speaking against capitalism.

Lauryn Hill spoke of the struggles a woman faces. Not just women, but black women. Salt-N-Peppa. Queen Latifah. MISSY FUCKING ELLIOT.

N.W.A made sure people knew about police brutality and violence against the Black community.

And now, in this day and age, we're also experiencing an explosion of Queer Hip-Hop. Lil Nas X is at the forefront of this. Lil Uzi Vert came out as non-binary and uses they/them pronouns, even when they knew that a lot of their fans would never use it or even respect them for it. Auntie Diaries, a song about a young man who grew up in a transphobic environment and bought into those beliefs, but could never fully do it because his Uncle loved him so much and taught him a lot of life lessons, and that wisdom translated to him accepting his cousin as a woman as well.

Drake is none of that.

He's the perfect representation of what people think hip-hop is. Flexing. Posturing. Objectifying women. A fucker so insecure he bought 2Pac's ring just to feel like he's part of the black community. Rejected by Rihanna publicly. Tried to groom Millie Bobby Brown. Kissed and inappropriately touched an underage girl during his concert. His songs have inspired so many young boys to treat girls like shit. His belief that the amount of rings and chains and cars he has is the true meaning of success.

Additional Edit: This is my fault. If this post gains more views, then it would be remiss of me not to add to this. It was my fault to begin with, not stating this beforehand because while I did know, I got lost in celebrating Hip-Hop in a place that doesn't usually do so, and rightfully so.

2Pac did fight for wealth equality and better social living for the black community. He also has a long, long history of battery, domestic abuse, and sexual harassment against women. Specifically against women of color. He made a song to celebrate his own mother, but outright refused to give the same show of respect to other women in his life. His hypocritical nature was brushed off in later decades, just the way I did now.

N.W.A is the same. Sexual assault charges, violence—they spoke of Police reform, but refuses to give the same treatment back towards the women in their lives.

50 cent refuses to backtrack on any of his misogynistic lyrics.

Modern rappers of today, such as the dead XXXtentacion. 6ix9ine. Kodak Black.

I do love Hip-Hop. I love rap. And the music itself has always been anti-authoritarian at its core, because those are its roots. And I was happy that circles that did not normally know of it or enjoy it were getting into it, even for one thing like this rap feud.

Lil Nas X, Little Simz, Childish Gambino, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah, Lauryn Hill—rappers who have at the very least consistently tried to put their money where their mouth is. Who have tried to act in accordance to what they rap and write and sing for.

@shehungthemoon @ohsugarsims finnthehumanmp3 were the ones who rightfully clarified in the comments. I know an apology won't correct my hypocrisy or my stupidity. I should have added all of this before making this post, but I wanted so badly to celebrate a genre of music but failed to do my due diligence in showing a better, holistic view of it. If anyone felt triggered, offended, troubled, frustrated or any other intense negative emotions surrounding this, please do block me. I'm sorry.

[genderqueerdykes]

i guess it's scary to me when white leftists say that the punk scene is the scene where you wanna go if you're trans or a person of color or a drug addict or someone else who's been kicked down in life. cuz like, if you've lived in this scene, is it really where you wanna send people?

i got involved in my local punk scene and the problem is that people aren't actually focused on looking out for each other. punk is heavily white. punk is heavily abled. punk is heavily cis. i know everyone says "real" punk is this and that, but the problem is: i live in a punk house venue. i live in a house where punks throw punk rock shows weekly and invite other punks into our home to throw music and art shows. the DIY scene is a mess. it's full of abusers. it's full of enablers. it's full of queerphobes and tranny chasers. it's full of people who collect vulnerable traumatized people. it's full of people who will hand beers to recovering alcoholics and pass lines to recovering addicts.

this scene is full of people who scribble "this machine kills fascists" on every object they own and turn around and cower and say "I'm scared, can you come pick me up, there's some scary guys outside." because some black dudes listening to some rap posted up outside of the punk show. this scene is full of virtue signaling assholes who put antisemitic symbols on their "battle vests". this scene is full of half-assed "communists" who just want to brag about the big scary words they learned like "praxis" and "proletariat" and "bourgeoisie".

this scene is full of fake socialists who won't lift a finger to help each other, but will drag each other into hell instead.

the problem with punk as we know it is that it's whitewashed to hell and back, and the spaces created by these individuals are not centered around safety, but violence. yeah, you kill fascists, but do you provide meals for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, and harm reduction for the addicted? do you pass out extra blankets and clothes? do you help people get to the hospital? do you pat someone on the back when they turn down that beer? do you remember to not offer a baggie to the person who just got out of recovery?

no? then you aren't a safe person to be around, and you ain't punk. you are the reason this scene is unsafe.

[3liza]

the majority of the cultural norms and ethos that the "X is punk actually" unfortunates post on this website actually apply in practice to juggalos (who can be variously described as leftist, anarcho-communist or syndicalist, self-organizing, self-policing, DIY, and majority working class or dirt poor etc) but i never see anyone on here post about the dark carnival or anything adjacent to it because ??? im not sure exactly, possibly something having to do with recency obscurity or just the basic hostility of the juggalo aesthetic. not even the clownfuckers on here are into ICP. i suspect this comes down to simple classism/racism because the ICP-adjacent artists are primarily rappers or include rap in their production and of course how closely aligned ICP and related artists are to poverty in the southern and central united states, particularly rural areas

[rottenpumpkin13]

Highlights From the SOLDIER Group Chat

All SOLDIER operatives are required to be apart of the official group chat, a space where they can comfortably communicate and relay messages en mass.

• Genesis sending PDFs of the Communist Manifesto at random.

• Director Lizard™ memes every Wednesday provided by Zack.

• Sephiroth using "DTF" to indicate that he's free to spar. Genesis had told him it means "Down To Fight."

• Zack sending a picture to the group chat holding the severed head of the president ShinRa statue, along with the caption "I fucked up."

• Someone changing the group chat name to DilfGeal™ and friends.

• Genesis sending "Sephiroth you forgot your briefs at my apartment" and turning his phone off.

• Zack and Kunsel's rap battle through voice notes.

• Sephiroth using "IWTFY" to indicate that he's free to spar. Genesis told him it means "I Want To Fight You."

• Roche changing the group chat name to Sephiroth's wig.

• The mystery penis™ — someone accidentally sent a nude to the group chat at 3 AM and quickly deleted it, but the picture automatically saved to everyone's device and it incited a month long discourse and speculation about the mystery penis. No, it wasn't Genesis.

• The day they discovered there was a turk informant lurking in the group chat (it was Reno) after said lurker insulted Zack, it escalated and Angeal went out looking for Reno to "chat."

• Genesis sending "THE 👁️ GODDESS 👁️ IS 👁️ WATCHING 👁️" after every misdeed.

• The day professor Hojo joined the chat so everyone changed their name and profile pictures to Sephiroth.

• Lazard: screen name "Milf-Muncher-5000" kindly revert to your government name and profile picture. I know this is you, Commander Rhapsodos.

• Sephiroth once misspelled the word "laughed" as "laft" and now instead of "lol" or "lmao" everyone just "LAF"

• Everyone spamming the hashtag #GetHewley'd after someone is scolded by Angeal.

• Kunsel posting a list of estimated hex codes and measurements of everyone's junk and chaos ensuing right afterwards. Genesis in particular is outraged at why his is so underestimated. He proceeds to send everyone his correct measurements.

• Zack using too many emojis, oftentimes only using emojis.

• If you swear, Angeal kicks you out, so everyone starts using Zack's name as a substitute for for curse words. "ZACK YOU!" is a particularly popular one.

• Sephiroth randomly sending unflattering pictures of Genesis. Then he sends a voice note of his office door being beaten down by Genesis.

• Sending random pictures and depictions of lizards and captioning them "FOUND THE DIRECTOR"

[mysterioushistorian]

here are my redesigns for the hiveswap lowbloods! headcanons are under the cut, last pic shows their actual height differences

edit: Fozzer and Folykl were re-redesigned.

Midbloods

Highbloods

Diemen Xicali

nonbinary (he/they)

is in a matespritship with Mallek. after so long, they finally accepted the blueblood's offer to share an apartment

he still wont share his Special Meal

has pale feelings towards the hotdog juggler troll

has taken a liking to culinary channels on grubtube

quite surprisingly, hes pretty charming. a common trait for hope-bounds

Xefros Tritoh

is no longer in a moirallegiance with Dammek, stating that they needed a break. He plans on coming back to him though

he is still a rebel

has a sibling-like relationship with Chixie. While The Grubbels are "on hiatus", he makes a duet with her and their songs are a mix of pop with rock.

yup, still training to be a butler.

despite being a rage-bound, he rarely gets angry. when he does, however, his telekinesis become much more powerful and out of his control, even

Fozzer Velyes

hes a communist because fuck you scratch

can see and talk to ghosts, but refuses to acknowledge their existence for the sake of his beliefs.

marvus is the only highblood he feels comfortable around.

marsti's best friend since grubhood. she was the first friend he ever had, and for a long while, the only one. they care a lot about each other

has picked up on wood carving, aside from just digging bodies

knows charun and skylla since wrigglerhood, too, they met in grubschool. but foz didn't last long, his lusus eventually decided to just hiveschool him instead

he re encountered with skylla sweeps later and they got to catch up. they remain in close contact until this day

dont worry, Happy Absence Pit Park is rebels friendly

Marsti Houtek

still has those fuckass goggles, though she shows her eyes much more often now (her girlfriend convinced her to do that)

speaking of, Marsti doesnt mind when her matesprit does that, because at least she gets to wear something decent

she was always red-flirting with Folykl, while the other was pitch, but after they started meeting more often and getting to know each other better, even getting each other's sense of humor, Folykl's hate turned into pity. theyre the best matesprits. though they do flip quadrants at times.

when done scrubbing for the day, she either goes to her hive to watch bad lowblood sitcoms or goes to the bookhive and get some medicine books

even if she keeps telling herself that shell never become a doctor, she still likes to study and know more about how to treat diseases, mainly voidrot, which doesnt have much information about in the books she has access to

she has a whole notebook with only information about voidrot. she writes down everything she finds out. Folykl teases her about it

its funny because theyre both void-bound yk

she hides a blade in her scrubpole. she almost never uses it, but keeps it in case she needs to defend herself

self care is being into women

Dammek

still upset with the break up, yet he tries to maintain a serious persona

he's using this "break" to rethink about his actions and improve as a person.

not giving up on that rebellion, even after Trizza gets culled by the Condesce herself

he probably needs another hobby, too

Chixie Roixmr

teeth not so sharp for a bronzeblood, huh

now hides her sign when shes 'the masked singer'

was surprised to see how her pop music went pretty well with Xefros' punk/rock style. they rap sometimes, too

despite hating highbloods, she is actually moirails with famous rapper marvus xoloto. they try their best to hide that connection.

has kicked Zebruh's ass

Vikare Ratite

was initially upset that Marsti had set him up on a blind date, but after finding out his date was a psionic who, well, could FLY, he got pretty excited

likes to watch documentaries

its best if you dont ask how he feels towards the fate of his matesprit as a helmsman

Skylla Koriga

no lusii thief ever leaves her territory alive

the missing piece is no longer missing: the hat

did this cowgirl actually managed to pull up a clown woman? its more likely than you think

she worries about her kismessitude with Konyyl, as the oliveblood tends to flip quadrants with her goldblood boyfriend

country life is tougher than you think

Cirava Hermod

transfem nonbinary (they/them)

theyre still on live, go check their streams

very obviously red-flirting with Charun

do not fuck with them, or else theyre gonna cancel you on chittr

yet its still hard to be a popular lowblood on the web...

still recovering from THE INCIDENT.

wanna get high?

Kuprum Maxlol

was super jealous of Marsti and her matespritship with his moirail, until Folykl got enough and set him on a blind date

he gets annoyed by Vikare's constant rambling about flight (he loves him anyways), but he can't say much since he also has a obsession he won't stop rambling about (meeting Trizza)

though, ever since he became Vikare's matesprit, he stopped talking about the fuchsia a considerate amount, to Folykl's relief.

likes seeing how happy Vikare gets when he uses his psionics to make him fly

if ur a highblood, you better stay careful around him with you eletronics, or else he's going to hack you and anonimously leak all of your information

refuses to admit that he's balding

tfw you have completely pale makeouts with your moirail

Folykl Darane

enjoys stealing her matesprit's things

what? shes clean now?

the first bath went horrendously and all because of her stubborness. but after the first few she actually felt kind of.. better? not that shell ever admit it out loud, of course, but bathing is longer the pain it was initially

you can still catch her stinking sometimes, tho

literally never even touched a toothbrush in her entire life

this society full of normies isn't ready for her yet

what were initially medical check ups with a rustie became dates

secretly, shes glad she got to know Marsti better and that black feelings became red

she lets her girlfriend braid her hair sometimes

found an old apartament and began living there with Kuprum and her lusus. dont worry, no drones scan the area like, ever

Azdaja Knelax

yeah, this guy is def troll Vegeta

myopic

stop using your psionics to make your hair and coat fly even when theres no wind

he likes bad bitches

guarantees Skylla that theres nothing even resambling spades between him and Konyyl. trust him

he never had a fourth horn to begin with

the power level of his psionics... it's. it's over *breaks device*

Zebede Tongva

this guy is a light-bound?

enjoys troll kpop, probably

goldies with no psionic eyes are more common than you think

he should write a book. with his own characters, of course

would you be kind enough to travel so far to meet him?

oh so he can commune with bees. isnt communing a bronze thing?

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

You Have a Deal

Author's note; Hey all, this is my first run at publishing my writing, hope someone likes it and let me know what you think! I have done some mild PB plot alterations to fit my story better.

Summary; When the Shelby family is under attack from the Changrettas the youngest sibling, Lillian, makes a deal with a distant business partner to ensure the safety of her loved ones.

Content warnings; mild spoilers.

The air of the afternoon was cold this day. Impenetrable grey covered the sky above Birmingham and pressed an awful feeling into Lillian. Her gaze down at the cobblestone, she made her way through the lively Calver Lane until she reached her destination, Solomon’s Mill. She looked up at the building and thought once again of her reasons for coming. No one had known she was here, and she liked it that way. With her family under siege and fair reasoning long gone from the Shelby family, she decided that it was her who needed to devise a plan. A way out. A way through. She moved through the final steps until she reached the door of the old brick building. Built sometime in the 1820’s she could tell Solomon’s Mill was a long standing business on the outskirts of the city. A staple of Birmingham that lasted through the most disheartening economic conditions. Owned and founded by the Solomon’s family after they immigrated to England. Nothing shook this old place; not guns, not violence, not the bloody communists. Always there and always of interest to the Peaky Blinders. They were cordial, if not cooperative at times. Now, Lillian relied on that mutual respect to hold steady when she pushed open the large barn-style doors. 

The air sweeping from the factory carried the sent of the fresh grain being processed through the large, rusted machinery. The shadows of the quick moving men bustling around danced at her feet as she walked through the threshold and made her way to a small room attached to right wood slat wall. Rapping three times on the fragile wooden frame a younger man looked up from his desk and cocked an eyebrow to Lillian. 

“Ye’,” he said quickly, barely parting his lips to speak. 

Slowly, calmly, with the utmost care to appear collected in her appearance, she spoke, “ I’m here to see Mister Solomons.” 

Eyeing her up and down, the nameless man gradually stood from his seat and addressed her more directly than before. He stood not much taller than the young Shelby. Short curls held close to his head and a tattered apron hung off his thin frame. 

“And what’s yer’ order of business?” he questioned. 

“I believe that to be a private matter.” 

He walked around his desk and Lillian did her best not to release the stern eye contact she held on him since her arrival. A lesson from Tommy she knew well, for when you look into the eyes of another man it is much harder to lie; and much harder to kill. 

“Open the purse.” He spoke flatly, unblinking. 

She dropped the small purse defiantly onto the wood-back chair in front of her. She flipped open the small titanium latch and took a small step back to allow the gaunt man his inspection uninterrupted. He drew a pencil from behind his ear and flicked through her things, like they were dirty. Like they were not worthy to be touched by the human hand. Without a word, he looked once again into the dark eyes of the woman before him and peaked over he shoulder into the doorway leading back to the vast factory floor. 

“Come with me,” he ordered in the same flat tone. 

Picking up her bag, Lillian followed him as he walked quickly out into the large room and maneuvered through the men and machines working in impeccable rhythm. She willed herself to keep pace with the small man, heels echoing through the loud space and causing men to turn their heads both in amusement and strict curiosity. Once her escort reached the back most offices of the mill he cracked open the door and spoke softly in a language Lillian did not recognize. After a few exchanges the man stepped to the motioned for Ms. Shelby to enter the small, dark closet. 

There, Mr. Solomons sat at an old oak desk, leaned far back in his seat with the amusement of a child lingering on his bearded face. 

“Ahhh Lillian,” he spoke loudly, “to what do I owe this enormous pleasure.”

“Mr. Solomons.” A brief pause as Lillian sat herself slowly on the chair paced strangely close to the overbearing desk. “There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you and I preferred them to be in person.” 

“Ah sweetheart, and what might that be. Did the new sweets parlor open up just past Harding, is that it?” He bellowed with laughter and Lillians eyes remained engrained in his skull. She always thought back to the words of her older brother in moments of this gravity. 

“Don’t look away from them - the men who wish to kill you - it only gives them time to make that decision.” 

Once the fitful bits of laughs subsided and the ringing from the old slat walls hushed away, Lillian spoke in the same calm tone she had mastered years earlier. 

“I believe I have something you want.” 

Another astonished chucked escaped the burly man. 

“And what would that be?” 

A cold breeze moved through the room. It never occurred to Lillian why men of such power chose to have a room so small to reside in. When her family had the means, they awarded themselves luxury. But Alfie, he hid away in this small closet. Maybe it made himself feel bigger in some way. 

“Brooklyn.” 

“The fuck you mean ‘Brooklyn’,” 

“Brooklyn. New York. Chicago. Shit maybe Boston by the time we are done.” 

The boss moved up farther in his seat. He readjusted his head to the side, believing that he may have heard the young girl wrong. 

“Love, what the fuck are you on about? Did you brother send you.” 

Almost too quickly she responded, “I came on my own accord.” She didn’t like always falling under the wing of her family; Tommy in particular. While the Shelby name came with certain privileges bestowed upon her at birth, she valued her identity. So long she had relied on Thomas to protect the family. Now, with the looming threat of the Italian’s hanging over like a dark cloud, she was on her final idea to pull her family through to safety. 

“Shelby company limited has taken a special interest in the American liquor market. We feel that it would be in your interest, as well as ours, if we cooperated on this matter. Together, we both have much to gain,” she continued, finally regaining her full composer. 

“Ye’ and why would I want business in America? What’s the fuckin’ catch?” Solomons pressed. 

“The Changretta family has made advances against my family. We are now using this opportunity to move into the American market while they are occupied here. This is a quite unique chance to collaborate with our American acquaintance without the influence of the Italians. With your power, as well as ours, I think that we could quite a fitting sum.” For the first time, Lillian broke her gaze away, reaching into her purse to exhume a cigarette before flashing her eyes back to Alfie. He leaned back in his chair, the creak of the old wood breaking the frigid silence. He gaze slowly moved back and forth over the ceiling while his hands rested behind his head. 

“Power,” he began. “Your power and my power,” almost as if he was explaining the concept to a child. “Where is your brother at, Lillian?” 

“He is attending to other business in Bristol.” Lillian, as a principle, didn’t like lying. But, as a Shelby, it came as naturally as breathing. 

“Where is Arthur?”

“Overseeing the tracks.” A puff of smoke escaped from her lips following her statement. 

“Then who in the fuck sent you?” His anger showed. Frustration. Questioning. He was half expecting one of Tommy’s men to appear from behind the doorframe and put a bullet between his eyes, finally revealing this to be an elaborate set up orchestrated by the young woman before him and her devilish relatives. But the bullet never flew and Lillian sat motionless in his chair waiting to respond. 

“I come as a representative of the Shelby Company Limited with a legitimate proposal for enterprise cooperation.” 

“And why should I trust the lot of you? Bunch of gypsy crooks.”

She sat once again, silent, patient, and held his gaze for just a moment to long. Leaning forward, she put the stiff out in a small crystal bowl on the corner of Mr. Solomon’s desk. She retrieved her handbag from her feet and pulled out a small, white envelope. After tossing it lightly on the desk in front of the bearded man she returned to her natural position in the chair, arms crossed, the Shelby, deadpan expression returning to her features. Alfie pulled his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose from the chair laced around his neck. He collected the envelope and carefully took out the ivory card within. A black handprint stained the cover. Mr. Solomons didn’t need to examine the paper any further and flicked up his eyes to meet Lillian’s once again. 

“Every one of us got one.” 

“I see.”

“If the Shelby family dies, your possibilities of every entering the American market get buried with us. Or burned rather…” she trailed on, looking off to the side, examining the bookshelf behind him. “You know, Gypsy things.” 

Alfie released a deeply held sigh and placed the card down back onto the desk with more care than the original owner did. Somewhere, deep down, he held grace for the young woman before him. He recognized that she was a result of her surroundings. Born into the small, violent hole that is Small Heath as a Shelby and since her birth has survived through the forces of her family and her gritty resilience. He new she wanted out. She loved her family, that was her weakness, but she longed to see the hills of the Netherlands and the cathedrals of Austria and the new bustling cities of America. To do this though, she must survive.

“I would need a more formal manner of proposal, numbers and such,” he explained still keeping that condescending tone. But Lillian already began to sit up straighter in anticipation carful not to let this emotion overtake her. “But tentatively, I believe we can work something out.”

A small smirk graced across her lips as she extended her hand. “Very well, Mr. Solomons, I’ll have my associates reach out to your tomorrow.” With that, she was on her feet, quickly remembering to pick up the dreadful letter she had pulled out moments ago. Carful in her movements she walked slowly out of office and shut the door behind her, leaving Alfie sitting in silence, wondering what he had just agreed to. He held much respect for Thomas and therefor placed some onto his younger counterpart. 

Lillian exited the factory and began down the darkening street until she was able to hail an oncoming cab. 

“Watery Lane, please,” she said quietly to the driver who nodded at her instructions. She was eager to meet with Aunt Polly and tell her of her plan of action knowing the elder Shelby would be much more receptive to this idea. Her only fear was Thomas, but that would have to wait. She just hoped that she had done the right thing. 

[bobsavage]

New PAVLOV'S HOUSE song! 'STASI FLOW' A springtime song about uhhh new beginnings. And friendship 💖. From 'WORKERS STATE HEAVYWEIGHTS' the album coming very soon! http://pavlovs-house.bandcamp.com https://open.spotify.com/artist/1FAVMVQyohvSK46skAmZe4

[shirotaangel]

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ Magdalena: Black Dragons

- SCENE I, ACT II

- SYNOPSIS: Koko will do whatever it damn takes to buy you.

- PREVIOUS: Scene I

tw : human-trafficking and purchase, smoking, communism, lowkey blackmail, Koko is a clever bitch.

╰┈➤ KOKONOI LINGERED BY THE STALL of the pawnshop, bent down to look at the gold on display behind the glass. He recognized most of them are white gold from Arabia, some he knew by baser instincts is actually iron covered in shimmering yellow paint.

He hummed and stood upright, stretching his slender back.

It was a little off of five, the sky already switching to purple. He came specifically since he thought it'll be less hotter at dawn.

Kyoto is quite hot in these days of October,  the sun can almost be seen melting the lacquer off of the beams of the ancient palaces. A sight to see. But Koko is never one for sightseeing, anyway.

He came here for you. But before that, there were steps. He hated it. It's an inconvenience, really, but the more he thought about it, it brings a smile to his face.

That made you more desirable. This long, dragging process in order to breathe the same air as you - Ah.

"Excuse me," Kokonoi rapped his leather-gloved knuckles on the glass of the pawnshop, "Where can I inquire about Tourism?"

"On the right, second door," the man bent over a spread of silver rings replied, "wait your turn."

Kokonoi hummed and went into the green-lit hallway of the building. The plaster was peeling off the walls, and a ceiling fan buzzed in Kokonoi's ear, producing more noise than the cool air he needed.

Hooking a finger in his collar to release tension, he sat down on the rusting stool by the fish tank, clicking his tongue. Goldfish, eight of them, swam in dark green water.

They're lucky. They might die in a few days but at least they die cool, comfortable deaths. Koko rolled his eyes. They may lose their lives but he lost something more. No amount of goldfish lives will account for that.

Actually no, he hasn't lost everything yet. Yet. If he has, he won't be here in Kyoto, of all places. He hated Kyoto. He always thought he'd be caught dead before he's seen stepping her ever again.

Kokonoi crossed his legs, staring impatiently at the door in front of him, the second in a rotw here in the green hallway. The door is not a door. It's a rectangle space with a flower-printed plastic as it's door. Cheap, but it makes do.

A pair of Americans exited it, laughing and satisfied. Koko pitied them. They're used to the cold in their Western country. Maybe they'll die first before the goldfish does.

Kokonoi strolled into the flower cover of the door, raising his thin brow at the vile smell of cigarettes in the small, cramped room.

Tourism posters in red inks were pasted to hide the ruined walls, stacks of dusty folders were scattered on the tiled floor. Koko took a seat in front of the table, where a small radio played something Luciano Pavarotti beside a grumbling mini fan.

Koko noticed on the right wall hung a yellowing photo of Mao Zedong.

"You're Communist?" Koko asked the woman behind the table wearing an orange qipao.

The woman, maybe somewhere between fifty and sixty, was flipping through a black binder for accounts.

"Force of habit to have that picture," she raised her head, "I was born when the CCP still lived."

"But you speak Japanese," Koko reasoned, tapping his leather-clad fingers on the glass of the table. There are red tickets behind it written in Cantonese.

"I speak all the languages, boy," the woman snorted, "you should've done the same - it could've gave you better chances of winning my little Oiran over."

Kokonoi raised his brow, challenged, "she told you?"

"Why not? We'revery close." The woman raised her sagging arms, "if that girl wasn't so pretty, she could've passed as my daughter."

"Of course she did," Kokonoi muttered bitterly, sticking his pointy tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Come now," the woman smiled, "why? What do you want with my beautiful girl? She has no time for you. A hundred kings are waiting for her as we speak."

"Half of them not as profitable as I am," Kokonoi answered, tilting his clever head, "where is she right now."

"Sleeping," the woman puffed out acrid smoke from her bony nose.

"Let me see her."

"Why?"

"Because I want her," kokonoi pressed, leaning his weight on an elbow he put on the table, "you out of everyone know what the benefits are when the most beautiful woman in the world is in your side."

"Exactly," the woman looks at him pointedly, "so why do you think I'll give her away just like that? Do you know how many men, powerful men, go through that door to pay me millions for her?"

"One of them me," Kokonoi says defiantly,  "madame, I'm here for a business proposition."

The woman looked at him suspiciously, tapping her cigarette on an ashtray the shape of a dragon head.

"Go on," she urged.

Kokonoi smiled, leaning coolly on his chair. He made this offer days ahead, filled the loopholes and cracks that might fault his argument. It's flawless. He was proud of himself for being so smart. So clever.

"The Oiran's men, all three thousand two hundred and four of them, made you a rich woman, haven't day?" Koko said calmly, proud again for his research, "but not a single one of them are patrons."

The woman glared at him. At this, Koko knew he struck a nerve. He sent one of his men from his division to bribe the older girls in the brothel. They liked to be paid more for information than for sex.

Knowledge, Kokonoi knew, is the divine currency. Oh, if only this woman knew how rich he is right now.

"As Treasurer and Captain, Black Dragon earns a total of three million yen per month, a maximum of five if the - " Kokonoi tilts his head, grinning, "weather is good."

"Go on," she flicked her head.

Kokonoi couldn't believe it - how easy it is to have the woman who owned you to lean towards him in interest, seconds away from giving him her terms of agreement.

He found that, no matter the amount t of money she receives from the you, it's unstable income. He learned you were bedridden from a fever two years ago. The brothel was forced to sell ten girls in the Vietnamese black market just to go by until you healed..

Roppongi also, is an untrustworthy finance. The connection between it and Kyoto, Koko knew, is illegal. The imports exchanged are always delayed because the police trace the money transfers -  another unstable income.

Only Koko can save them all.

"Shiba Taiju, tenth Generation Commander of the Black Dragons, will be your patron," Kokonoi raised his hands in welcome, "finally you have something to make your business a less bit illegal."

There. He said it. Kokonoi loved the shifting of the woman's wrinkled expression, all of which leads only to one.

"Fine," she groaned, "fine."

Kokonoi, triumphant, smiled and laced his fingers over his knee. The woman sighed, deflating back on her chair.

"But you know her, don't you?" She raised her brow, "my pretty, pretty girl?"

Kokonoi was silent for a moment, a flash of memory crossing his head. It made him smile and frown, excited and furious. You're beautiful, the most beautiful he's ever seen.

"Come to Black Dragons," he told you.

"Why should I?" You asked, glowing like a beautiful torch in your red cheongsam.

His answer was what all the women in the world would come running down to grasp, to eat.

"Because you'll be free," Kokonoi said.

Kokonoi offered you something your circumstance can never give. He dangled it in front of your perfect face, all you needed to say was -

"No," you told him.

That was it. Kokonoi could never forget how he bit his lip until it bled when he rode to Taiju at the back of Inupi's bike, leaving the Jansou where you poised and sat by the Mahjongg table you played on with him.

Koko looked at the brothel madame, "of course I do."

"Then you know she'll say no," the woman says, lighting herself another cigarette, "that girl is more beautiful than anyone and anything - it's a given her reasons aren't like most, too."

He knows that. Of course he fucking does. Kokonoi shrugged, "when can I see her?"

"Now."

Kokonoi smiled. You don't want freedom. It's even possible you might not want anything at all.

He remembers it, that look of yours. The endless depths of nothingness swimming under you perfect, perfect skin. Try as he might, he can't really do anything about it.

But he'll get you. Oh yes. He'll get you.

copyright belongs to @shirotaangel

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Spider-Punk x Black Cat: Punk!Cat Headcanons

Yes, I'm doing this. Every Spider-Man needs his Cat.

First of all, they'll be the first to tell you they are not dating.

If you ask, they'll both say 'We hate labels'. It's their thing.

If Hobie is the king of all things anti-facist then Felicia is the monarch of rage fueled feminism and anti-capitalism

Hates all things classist, racist and sexist and has a 'k!ll your local rap*st' patch on her battle vest

And her weapon of choice is spiked-out brass knuckle claws

Hobie towers over her (like he does everyone), but Felicia's ten times louder and twice as confrontational. Felicia in any universe talks bold with no filter, and Punk!Cat is that turned up to eleven

Which is probably why she's on vocals in the band

She has a mouth like a sailor and an accent as thick as Hobie's, so mixed with his slang, their conversation are literally British-dipped jibberish

Her style sits on the border of old-school punk and trad goth. She's usually in all black and white, compared to Hobie's red and blue, and sometime her domino mask is swapped out for trad goth style eyeliner

The motives align more than any other Spider-Man, at that makes things a lot easier.

Hobie loves a girl who can do a little direct action, and his anarchist beliefs align more with hers than any other Spider-man.

Though they did have to get over the fact he's an anarchist and she's a communist (she constantly says to him 'i dont believe in private property')

Of course she likes to steal, and she's real good at it

To most Spider-men this would be annoying, but Hobie actually finds it fairly impressive.

She steals things for him constantly, and he keeps every single thing she gives him. Lots of times they turn out to be useful, especially in his builds

Punk!Cat steals shit from museums to return objects back to their native countries and defaces pieces from racist, sexist artists

Steals from banks to handover the money to grass-roots resistance movements

And since Hobie is one of the only Spider-men to hate cops (blue laces people) he's always there to happily protect her from the pigs

She's still herself, but a bit different than most Felicias

Every Felicia is a little 'not normal' about Spider-Man, and Punk!Cat is the same, but approaches it from a different angle

She'll call Hobie a hero only because she know it bugs the day lights out of him

But unlike a LOT of Felicias, Punk!Cat outright hates Spider-Man merch and imagery

She thinks it's incredibly exploitative of Hobie and everything he stands for.

And she hates their totalitarian J.Jonah more than anything because if theres one thing she hates, it's misinformation and propaganda

Although most Fe's love their jewlery like no other, Punk!Cat takes another slight deviation -

Punk!Cat knows that things like diamonds, pearls, and gold has been used as items of oppression for literal centuries. Instead of a taste for items of bougeois lust, Felicia is much more into punk jewlery

She loves everything pinned, spiked, and covered in soda tabs. Her hero uniform is covered in chains, and even her canon 3-claw grappling hook is replaced with a heavy chain and hook she fashioned herself. Scavanged, of course.

She's really close with Gwen and Pavi

Community outreach is everything to a punk, ya'll

Her and Gwen get along immediately. Felicia is never one to be quick to jealousy and she accepts Gwen with open arms.

Gwen turns up to Hobie's universe distraught and homeless.

She teaches her about squatters rights and how her and Hobie keep a roof over their heads, always made sure she had toiletries and someone to talk to, because she knows what it's like to have a strained relationship with your dad

Pavi takes to everyone quickly, but when he and Felicia are together, it gets LOUD

The Spider-Society hates her

And Felicia and Hobie love it

Hobie had no idea how controversial dating Felicia would be. Not for band fans, but for all the other Spider-people

Turns out, Felicias aren't very popular with the Society

The both of them thinks it hilarious

They tell him Spider-people are suppose to be with their MJ's. That's how it's meant to be.

Dating a Felicia or saving a Gwen is an anonmaly waiting to happen.

But neither of them care, and if anything, that only eggs them on. If everyone thinks they're 'bound' to breakup eventually then thats even more reason for them to stick together.

Hobie has absolutely made Felicia her own watch

One which she uses to crash the Spider-Society every now and again

Because of this, Miguel hates her and Jess is just so done with the both of them

Even if Hobie and Peter.B are in no way close, Peter seems to be the only adult in their corner. As a Spider-man that didn't have the most conventional story with his MJ, he's more than supportive of Hobie and his unconventional story with Felicia. He figures if he and MJ can make it work, so can they.

Her and Gwen bond over the awkwardness of being variants of the dead or ex-girlfriend of most of the Spider-society, and how Spider-men see them because of it

And when it's time to take the Society down, she's the first in line (after Hobie, Gwen, and Pavi of course)

[castroxche]

Rating fictional depictions of Che Guevara part 1

Epic Rap Battles of History

9/10. i can't believe they got the real che guevara to play che guevara

he lost this battle and his second verse kinda sucked and i have to dock points off of him for that HOWEVER his oneliners make up for it. "asthmatic but i'll take your breath away" "i'm the hardest marxist ever graced a banknote" absolutely iconic. also the fact he seems more mad that guy fawkes FAILED than any personal beef with him. he's not serious and he's not supposed to be but he slayed anyway.

Evita (1999)

kinda conflicted about this one. bro's only in this musical because he's argentine and that's it. in later version he isn't even che guevara anymore. but still, he kinda served cunt. havent seen mandy patinkin's version but raul esparza's version kinda devoured. that man has no respect for anything or anyone in this show. just rabid the entire time. entirely accurate as a communist being forced to be in a musical about bourgeois electoral politics. i gotta give him a 8/10 because while it doesnt make sense for him to be here (or even be the one fitting his given narrative role; from what i know, che irl didn't particularly dislike eva peron?) he gave it his all.

Sharehouse Nile

0/10. class traitor x2. dating marie antoinette. they took away his beard and twinkified him. i'll never forgive him

Che Guevara (Moon Senka 2019)

unfortunately i have not been able to find this musical anywhere online, which is absolutely tragic. so i must go by the gifsets and the art. anyways it's ladies in cuban revolutionary drag how could you not like it. there's some chedel homoeroticism here and those outfits look great. i cant give it more than a 5/10 because i havent seen it, HOWEVER know that my 5/10 is the highest i can give with the cap...