#i hate this fucking country so fucking much

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Cowboy Ellie x fem! reader

Warnings: Sexual content (soft sex + oral sex + nipple play + hickies), cheating, reader is mostly neglected by her husband.

Word count: 1.6k

Ellie was no stranger to pretty women who were lacking in attention, their husbands much too blind to even appreciate the beauty of the the feminine curve of a woman's hip, or the sensitive junction between their shoulder and the base of their neck. No, those country boys were so entitled to blows and lasting 30 seconds inside of a woman who should be worshipped for hours. She was no stranger, yet Ellie was floored when she first laid her appreciative gaze upon you, and her most hateful scour upon your husband.

You were like any cowboy's dream, in your gingham sundresses and skin she could only imagine to be as soft as the skin of a peach; she wanted to devour you until your content was dripping down her chin, she wished not to hear a crisp bite from you but instead a deep, moist mouthful of you that she could savor on her tastebuds.

Perhaps, that is why she immediately snatched the opportunity to do so when you came crying to her about your (rather hideous, in her respective words) husband just not being able to treat you right. He'd come home everyday late from work, had female contacts in his phone you were scared to open, and worst of all (a detail you so casually slipped as if it were nothing), he couldn't make you cum.

Ellie was a friend of yours and you confided in her about all of this, how in the beginning of the marriage, he would fuck you, get his nut, and then fall asleep with his back facing you.

"No aftercare?" She would ask, sounding incredibly offended.

"Aftercare?" As if you had no idea what that even was. Oh, you poor thing..

That was only the first half of the incredibly hard-to-listen-to story you told that night. Your marriage was not a long feat, only three years; yet in that span, he went from at least trying to make an effort and sleeping with you to maybe asking for a blowjob once a week. The gall this man had, Ellie thought to herself. If she could, if you would let her, she'd march right up to that asshole with the intentions of setting him straight. Only, she didn't ask. She was selfish, and her mouth got her in trouble.

She leaned further into you. Her eyes were hesitant, but there was something past just simple care there that was clear as day. That man didn't deserve you. He didn't even deserve a second chance, but she wasn't going to let you leave with nothing.

"I know how to please a woman better than he ever could."

And upon much tension, upon your widening eyes but pitifully desperate acceptance, she'd finally have you and give you the night you deserved to have.

Ellie didn't rush you or ask for more than you'd give. Instead, she ghosted over your skin where your husband probably had never even cared to worship. The warm of her breath hit over your pulse, soft lips delivering warm pecks over it. She lingered to count each beat of your heart, how it raced underneath your soft skin.

She licked her sun-chapped lips and leaned in, halfway on top of your body so that she could tease you with the low rasp of her voice,

"Does he kiss your neck?"

Your next breath was but a hitch. "No."

"Do you like it when I kiss your neck?"

"Yes."

Ellie decided that answer, that soft but eager affirmation needed to be rewarded. Her soft pecks flourished into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over your throat, over the curve of your shoulders, and near your collarbone. From there, she lavished hickies over the bone and relished in your breathless, encouraging sounds. She pulled back, granting herself a whine from your lips that she'd like to kiss.

"Does he mark you up real nice like I just did?" Her drawl was thicker when she was losing herself in the act of pleasuring a deserving woman.

"I wish he did," you admitted quietly, as if you were ashamed.

Ellie rubbed over your sides soothingly, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "Ain't nothin' wrong with wanting it, darling." Then, she had an idea.

"Anything else you wish he did?"

You looked nervous to admit it, swallowing and nodding. Ellie was a patient woman, and she knew that sometimes it was hard to be open and vulnerable about what it is that a person wanted.

You only whispered it, quickly to get it over with. "I wished that he'd...go down on me."

Ellie wasn't expecting the sudden forwardness, she hadn't even kissed you. However, you were probably needy. Poor thing, all pent up after years of dealing with guys who didn't give a damn about your own orgasms or even emotions like she could, if you were truly hers. She could move things along, however.

"Would you like me to?"

You nodded quickly like a bobble-head, something she found to be endearing, but craved your voice.

"Say it for me, darlin'."

"I want you to go down on me."

Ellie was a bit flustered with that sentence, one she had been dreaming of you hearing just the night before. Her freckled face had a nice, red glow to it.

"May I kiss you first?"

Your lips were like tulips, soft and delicate. You tasted like whatever chapstick you wore, something sweet like candy but artificial, not that she minded much. She'd taste your real flesh soon enough.

Ellie didn't rush the kiss or harshly rip your clothes off. Instead, she let your lips linger against hers, sharing oxygen and exchanging spit. Ellie tasted like chewing tobacco with a hint of something much like vanilla. Her tongue against yours anything but harsh or gross, in fact a sensation you wished to feel forever. That was not the sentiment with your husband, however; he tended to kiss you like he wanted to nibble on you, not devour you or savor your taste.

When she felt satisfied with the kiss, she pulled away to trail down your body. Her lips suckled on the stiff peaks of your nipples once your shirt and bra were peeled off, mumbling just loud enough for you to catch, "pretty, so pretty for me."

Her mouth did not leave your chest to venture lower, instead taking its sweet time to kiss upon the fat there, savor the pebbled skin of your areolas, and let her teeth graze but not bite down. You needed sweetness, TLC. You didn't need anything more than that right now.

Ellie was a tease, and let you writhe underneath her, legs already parted and awaiting as she made her way down your belly, tongue swirling over the soft skin.

Her teasing was more worth it than all of the nights with your husband combined into one nightmare. This was like a dream you wished to never awake from.

She did throw your panties on the floor in a bit of haste, but with your clit and moistened folds, she took her time to taste. Like the skin of a peach, she peeled you back, parting your lips with her tongue to coax a gasp out of you. Her hand didn't force your legs apart, you seemed to have yourself spread enthusiastically wide enough for her. She took advantage of that, using a free hand to intertwine fingers with yours, struggling to not smile when you squeezed.

"Ellie.." you breathed when she circled your clit with her tongue, not denying you long with a soft suckle to the swollen bud.

Ellie devoured your pussy like it was her family's peach cobbler, tongue relentless and moans sporadic. Each time she got too much into her head about how perfect it all was, the way she could feel the fat of your thighs gazing or squeezing her head, she'd let out little hums of bliss or louder, vibrating moans when you cried for her. Though she liked to enjoy her meal, the difference between Ellie and your husband was that she did not pull away after less than a minute to roll over. Ellie did not stop until you came, legs quivering as you squeezed her palm hard, wave after wave of pure bliss passing through your body.

She laid with you in arms, drawing patterns on your warm skin. You were still vulnerable, soft and breathless, but Ellie had no plans on even pulling away for a second.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Her voice was softer, a sweet sound with a lull to it that made you sleepy.

"I did, but I don't know what to do now."

Ellie sat up, but continued to rub soothingly on your back. "What does that mean?"

"It's just.." You sighed, conflicted. "I don't want to go back to my husband after that. I don't think I could handle it, not after everything you made me feel." More than just physical sensations and the orgasm, Ellie had stirred something within you.

"That's okay. We'll figure it all out, okay? Just lay here with me and let me take care of you. You deserve that, at least."

You nodded and let Ellie hold you.

Within her own thoughts, she knew that this could end badly, not just for you or your husband, but for even her. You were still a married woman, and you had just figured out a whole new side of yourself that she couldn't fully help you with. However, she did know that she would be here to kiss you when your husband wouldn't, and she had no intentions of pulling away when things got tough. For now though, she'd just appreciate your warmth and the trust you had in her for the night.

[coqhee]

ROOM FOR YOU

✷ enhypen hyung line being clingy

day 20 of melodies to memories ― p.sh x f!r fluff healing 1OO3

it’d been a whole 3 years since you’d last seen him after you graduated from high school, and only now had you received word from the man himself that he was moving back.

hoon: “i’m coming back to town soon for college, should we meet up?” 

you stared at his text wondering how you should feel. the boy was your first friend, first crush, first everything except for anything relating to ‘boyfriend’. you wondered maybe if you’d said something before he left if he’d had stayed

little did you know, sunghoon harbored the same exact thoughts and feelings. you were his everything except for his girlfriend and how he wished he could call you his after all the time you’d spent together growing up

good thing sunghoon was thinking the same exact thing after he’d sent the text, wondering if it was the right call to text you back all this time.

the east coast just wasn’t made for him and he’d been wanting to go back ever since he got there.

he’d been meeting to call, ask many times ‘how’s it like back at home?’ or even ask about the lake you’d spent many summers in, dunking each other in, then basking in the fleeting daylight as you dried off. 

you’d meant to move on, appear strong and say that you were doing better now, and it was for the best, but seeing that text…you weren’t so sure. 

you knew there’d always be room for park sunghoon inside of your heart whether you liked it or not. 

y/n: would you have time to call sometime as well?

your fingers hovered over your phone as you hit send, heart pounding like you’d just run a marathon. it wasn’t like you to feel so nervous about a simple text, but with sunghoon, nothing was ever simple.

the three dots appeared almost immediately, and you couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad sign.

as if almost immediately, your message was read and he was calling. it was about time you suppose.

“hey,”

“it’s about time you rang,” you force out a small laugh. at least you wanted to think it was forced, that he didn’t have you waiting endlessly on the call you asked him to give when he had landed at the other end of the country.

“you must’ve gotten up early, here it’s almost 10:30,” he continues on after a moment of silence either of you aren’t sure you’re comfortable with.

“yeah a bit, didn’t mean to wake up, so i’ll probably go back to sleep after this call,” you smile appreciating the concern.

“guess i got lucky then,” you hear him smile on the end. god, how you hated that you could predict his facial features just through his voice.

“so,” you started, breaking the silence that threatened to grow too heavy, “what’s bringing you back? homesick?”

“missed the west coast, missed home too much here,” you hear him laugh on the other end. it’s a laugh of carefulness and uncertainty.

you hum, acknowledging his statement, somewhere deep down hoping he’d say he missed you too.

“missed you,” you blurt out speaking your mind before he could start a new statement.

“i missed you too, not just as a friend, but as an everything,” 

his words hung in the air, thick with meaning. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you processed what he’d just said.

"an everything?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” sunghoon admitted, his tone softer now. “i know it’s probably not fair to say this after all this time, but i couldn’t leave it unsaid anymore. i thought maybe if I told you now, we’d have a chance to… i don’t know, figure things out when i got back?”

“sunghoon…” you started, your voice wavering. “you can’t just say things like that out of nowhere.”

“i know,” he sighed. “i know it’s a lot, but I’ve been holding it in for three years. i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you.”

“you’re not special you know that right? you’re not the only one who hasn’t moved on, so fuck you too park sunghoon,” you laughed in a lighter tone. 

if sunghoon could explain that feeling, it’d felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and he could never explain how the tightness in his chest dissipated by your words and tone alone.

“would it be better to talk about this, like when i come back?” he asked unsure if this was the best resolution to a phonecall where he practically said everything he’d been wanting to say for the longest time ever.

“maybe it would,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside you. “but for the record, hoon, you don’t get to come back into my life and drop a bomb like that without dealing with the fallout.”

hoon. he’d love to live everyday with you calling him that again, bad or good day.

“i deserve that,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “i just couldn’t wait any longer. i had to tell you.”

“three years, though,” you said, your voice teasing yet soft. “who moves to the other side of the country, never contacts their best friend, then decides to come back and let everything out after 3 years? are you crazy?”

“every single day,” he confessed. “moving away didn’t change how I felt. If anything, it made it worse.”

for the first time in years, you felt the faintest glimmer of hope for what could be. “then i guess i’ll see you soon, park sunghoon.”

“soon,” he echoed, and the word felt like a promise.

as the call ended, you sat there in the quiet of your room, your thoughts racing but your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. three years was a long time to hold onto feelings like these, but maybe—just maybe—it was worth the wait.

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 20 of melodies to memories! guess who forgot i have to MANUALLY upload this cause my blr is broken! day 21 will be out shortly as well so you lucky ducks get a DOUBLE upload, sighhh

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya @wonsdoll @lovuegi @letmein2urheart @firstclassjaylee

@ coqhee 2024. all rights reserved

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.

[cornyonmains]

I am having so much fun watching rich people realize that half of our country's fighting age population hates their fucking guts. Guess it's hard to see people getting pushed too far from an ivory tower.

The people claiming to be horrified by the violence are not to be taken seriously, because they were happy as clams to keep letting Brian Thompson drop bodies. They don't actually give a shit that someone died, they're just worried the poors might get healthcare.

If they actually cared about people dying, they wouldn't be demonizing Luigi. He killed one of the biggest mass murders in the country and that's the gospel fucking truth. Just because our government made that shit legal does not change the reality that Brian Thompson was a serial killer, and so is every health insurance CEO.

[mochidolls]

now introducing . . . corporate!rafe !

uhhh, so this is a byproduct of binge watching industry for the past like two weeks… mdni por favor / brief mentions of masturbation & fingering + bot

now he’s not the y’know traditional multi millionare ceo of a big real estate firm daddy’s company who fucks his secretary from time to time (close enough but not quite).

corporate!rafe is a stocks bro —neck-deep in crypto, efts, and the kind of investments that make everyone else’s eyes glaze over. he’ll mansplain the basic principles of capitalism over lunch like you didn’t just close a deal worth more than his annual bonus. (rafe: 0, you: 1)

rafe’s favorite pastime is reminding everyone that he clawed his way to the top. him. not ward cameron’s money. not ward cameron’s connections. him. never mind that his “humble beginnings” included a trust fund the size of a small country’s GDP and a private boarding school education.

rafe is terrified of being nothing without his wealth and status. the dude is genuinely afraid that without the recognition, the promotions, the stock portfolios, he’ll be just another rich kid with a hollow sense of identity.

this is what drives him to undermine you: if you’re successful, it forces him to confront his own feelings of inadequacy, and god forbid, that cannot happen.

corporate!rafe has icanfixyou syndrome. in his silly little goofy brain, he is the one who has control, not you. the problem is, you’re fully aware of what he’s doing, and you’re only more determined to get under his skin. he keeps failing to win you over, and he doesn’t know how much it pisses him off. you don’t need him. he can’t stand it.

rafe has no idea how to flirt. his version of courting you is begrudgingly fetching your coffee order and getting it completely wrong. you like a hazelnut latte with just the right amount of foam? congratulations—you’re now the proud owner of a black americano that tastes like shit and the depths of a black hole. grim, i know.

and please don’t start to fantasise about him fucking you in the most nefarious of ways. quite frankly he was all too repulsed and blinded by the sheer eager need to be simply better than you to even imagine you in that light.

that is…until the hotel incident.

to summarise (and quite frankly not waste your time): HR’s genius solution for “team bonding” was sticking you two in interlinked hotel rooms. pure hell. he leaves his damp towels everywhere, his skincare products are obnoxiously expensive (and you definitely didn’t try his moisturizer when he wasn’t looking), and you’ve caught him singing jack harlow in the shower. loudly.

rafe had bare witnesses too many nip slips to be considered ‘normal’ around you. thus his little fantasies about you began.

you wore a bikini (a bit revealing for a work trip, but i mean…c’mon you’re in mallorca!) the bikini was a choice—your choice. rafe spent the entirety of the beach day trying to look anywhere but directly at you. that night however? a poor pillow suffered, fucked mercilessly and bred into (room service are going to have a ball cleaning that up!)

but…let’s not kid ourselves here, you weren’t less of a pervert yourself.

one single fateful night with his stupid gold heirloom ring glittering in the moonlight, lead to you clutching one of his beach shirts like a feral animal, babbling and praising his name into the soft cotton and wondering if the gold signet ring on his hand could double as a vibrator.

you think it’s a joke that everyone around you sees this mild rivalry between you and rafe? it’s not. it’s a full fledged fucking war. every small win you get, he has to match it. your first big client? rafe’s out there trying to snag a bigger one, even though it’s none of his business.

he hates that you’re quietly, secretly thriving, and the fact that he can’t quite figure you out drives him insane. you’re not his type. you don’t need him. he can’t stand it. he’d rather see you fail than admit he’s even a little bit impressed by you…maybe a little infatuated too.

your relationship with rafe fluctuates between clear disdain and ‘i want to fuck you and have your kids’ ism. he’ll try to play the role of “cool, unattached guy,” but everyone can see how much he carnally wants you.

he’ll make snide comments like, “i mean, it’s not like i’m some guy you’d bring home to meet your parents, but sure, you can always pretend i’m a secret you’re keeping.”

when rafe knows he’s gone too far and messed with you too much, he’ll offer you an apology— “look, i’m not sorry for calling you out, but i can tell you’re a little sensitive about it. so... i’m apologizing in the way that doesn’t undermine either of us. happy?”

he steals your favorite pens; you "accidentally" unplug his monitor before meetings. his powerpoints are aggressively over-designed, and you make sure to point out every typo during team calls. HR doesn’t even bother with your complaints anymore—they just schedule you for the same meetings so they can watch the fireworks. it’s childish, really.

on the surface, rafe oozes alpha male (threw up a bit there, excuse me). but underneath all that bravado? he’s a fucking miserable mess. he constantly checks his portfolio every 5 minutes to make sure his money is still growing. the real kicker? he’s terrified of you being smarter than him, which is why he’s always trying to “one-up” you. he knows you’re not impressed by his stupid wealth, and that drives him crazy.

[limeade-l3sbian]

Any advice for "returning back to society" ?

Please don't make fun of me but I escaped an abusive household like right before covid started so I was pretty much isolated from the population for 2 years then the following year, we still had online uni.

I'm In a different country now and this is my second year here I feel like I lost that ability to talk to people in a sense. I feel like everyone hates me and I always had a problem understanding social cues. This week I went to my schools library, had a chat with a librarian there about a book I borrowed, it was nice, i didnt feel scared.

But idk how to make progress, idk how to talk casually and "nonchalantly" with my professors for example.

Firstly, would never make fun of you and if anyone does, promptly pop them in the fucking mouth. Secondly, very happy and proud of you for surviving and escaping. 💜

As frustrating at this advice might be, I would suggest giving yourself some grace. You're coming out of some very traumatic experiences and trying to immediately fit right back in with people as if nothing happened. Your brain is still likely on high alert and questioning everything and everyone to avoid going back to what you've escaped.

Start small! Let yourself be a little awkward. Just like how your brain adapted to survive, you'll pick up the bare essentials for conversation again. You said you've never been great at social cues? That's okay! I can understand wanting to be better about it but definitely don't beat yourself up about it.

Any decent person isn't going to give you shit for not being the best social butterfly that ever was.

[quarterlifekitty]

i dont think i've seen you write about rudy or ale yet... but if you ever do some day, hear me out—as much as a gentleman rudy is, i absolutely 100% believe that this boy can get 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒚 in bed. and whenever he gives us THAT look outside we get warm all over teehee 🤭

OKAY so—

I would love to write for Rudy. I think he’s hot as fuck. We love an understated man. I’m trying to get a better sense of his character. If anyone has any fic recs for him, throw them my way!!

For ale— I’m gonna be real. Idk if I can get over the forehead 💀

Also, (putting this under the cut bc it’s HEAVY COD criticism. It’s just a personal opinion on the media, not looking to start a discussion— just explaining my viewpoint)

It’s tough for me to watch the las Almas scenes because they embody a lot of why I avoided engaging with COD for so long, and why I’m kinda guilty over engaging with it now. I hate the propaganda it represents— I hate media where the military goes into “dangerous countries” supposedly to save the helpless native citizens by taking out someone labeled a cartel leader or a terrorist by the government of the predominantly white nations. I won’t claim to be an expert as to the cod storylines, so this is just a surface level understanding based on what I have seen.

The idea that Alejandro and Rudy as natives to las Almas believe that taking out “bad guys” is the best way to better the area is laughable to me. Any area’s dependency upon local crime syndicates is like any area’s dependency upon illicit substances— it’s symptomatic. This is just one of my many issues with the series and military related media in general.

It is the coward’s way— but I can ignore the subject matter and basis of the series in many of the scenes taken from missions that deal with the shadows, graves, marakov. I won’t claim any moral high ground. I am not a better person for any of this and I have nothing against people who choose to engage more with the series or think differently about it than I do. Media is what you make of it and I am not an authority by any means. These are just personal feelings. I may feel differently later, but it’s how I feel in this moment.

[anarchywoofwoof]

CNN suggested that Luigi Mangione stage a boycott instead of what he did. a boycott of the health care industry. exercising my right to protest by fucking dying.

edit: it was ABC. tomato, tomato.

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[trzpiotka]

another pregnant woman died in poland because the doctors waited for the fetus to die on its own while ignoring her sepsis symptoms (there was NO CHANCE of the fetus surviving, but they didn’t want to get charged with performing an illegal abortion). but yeah women around here don’t have many kids cause they just... uuuh *checks notes* party all the time 

[invinciblerodent]

"I'll make a save here and try breaking up with Astarion, just to see the dialogue- I could see him get kinda nasty about it, but I honestly don't know what to expect so---"

...............

.......

....

[pjharvey]

the fact that trump is somehow still up for re-election and everyone is acting like he is a normal candidate and he's out here spouting like 1800s levels of racism and has a dozen rape allegations is crazy. stupid ass country.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

.

[borathae]

If Yoongi has to apologise one more time, I might fly over there and start to commit actual crimes to the reporters and knetz

[ganondoodle]

seeing the video of palestinians tearing down the apartheid wall and i cant help but feel a similar kind of joy as when seeing the pictures from when the wall seperating germany fell, with masses of people storming it and helping each other climb qwq

[ot3]

now im just manifesting that the $350m increase to law enforcement spending doesn't pass. it's pulling ahead right now but theres still plenty of votes left to go.

arguments for: ummmm.... we have a social obligation.... to honor the sacrifices our brave officers make

argument against: there is literally nothing to suggest this will work

other than that there's not really any ballot initiatives that were of super critical importance to me especially because i dont live in CO anymore. will need to register in oregon going forward. but it's nice to see the big constitutional amendments get passed