#idk i'm open to debate/argument on this (to a point) but this has moved from a personal gripe to

[mangled-by-disuse]

talking to friends about The Horrors, specifically the Trumpian Horrors, and, like

the more I consider it, the more I think that the best thing we outside the US can do - for ourselves, for the world, and for America as well - is to just holler to the fucking rooftops that AMERICA IS NOT THE WORLD.

By which I mean:

we do not let politicians, media, and our own social circles convince us that American issues are the only issues worth discussing;

we challenge politicians, media, and our own social circles on the politics of appeasement;

we challenge ourselves on the assumption that laws passed in the US affect us directly, and we do not place ourselves in American shoes;

we focus on our own shit. Not because it's more important, but because we need to remember that it still exists. Our eyes cannot be on the USA while the legislative and political rights in our own countries are eroded from under us.

we look to the rest of the world. We get used to viewing people who don't look like us, talk like us, or even like us as an equal and crucial part of the political landscape.

WE ARE LOUD ABOUT THIS. In politics, in activism, in social contexts, in our own assessment of our own politics, we remember and hold up that America is NOT the centre of the world, and that American hegemony is NOT inevitable.

This is not because I'm trying to undermine American struggles. This is because the Trump administration is strengthened and bolstered by every other country that chooses to suck the cock of American supremacy in the desperate attempt to maintain the last remnants of the old imperial order.

It is up to everyone in the world to challenge that, and to say: yeah, this fucking sucks, and we want America to be better, but we don't need America.

There are other markets. There are other allies and potential allies. There are other global powers (Personally I think we should try to dismantle global powers entirely, but, you know, one battle at a time) and there are other political shifts.

So much of the current rightward swing in the UK, at least, is directly modelled on MAGA to the point that it's the same movement, to the point where the branches of that movement feed power and influence to one another. You know what has consistently been one of the more successful tactics? Fucking reminding people that they are not, in fact, offering solutions to the problems Britain faces, because these are American solutions and we are not America.

idk it feels stupid to say this. it feels stupid to have to point out that Not Everywhere Is America, and it feels even stupider to think that this is something that needs pointing out to the systems of power. But the more I think about it, the surer I am that one of the tentpoles of American power, and therefore of Trump's power (in the US as well as beyond it!) is just... the willingness of so much of the world to say: yeah, sure, everything is America.

WE ARE NOT AMERICA.

AMERICA DOES NOT HAVE TO CONTROL US.

idk. maybe it won't change shit. but maybe yelling that at international power structures loudly enough - making noise about issues that are not American, focusing our efforts outside America, challenging American supremacy on the global stage - is, in fact, the most useful thing we can do.

[50shadesofjakemckenzie]

Hey again !! IDK if it is, but I'm guessing sending multiple asks for fics is okay for you?? sorry if it isn't !! But anyway can you please write another Zahra x Craig fic with a prompt "I wish I could ask you to leave... but I want you to stay." Thanks in advance !!

Of course! This is gonna take place pre-La Huerta in Hartfield!

-

Zahra was curled into a ball. Her arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked herself back and forth, sobs continuing to overtake her body. He was gone. The one good part in her life, the man who taught her to love, he was gone.

He had stormed out of her dorm that night, after an argument about how she couldn’t accept his new lifestyle. Each word he had said was a shot to the heart, and as she watched him walk out of her door that night, tears in her eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that he would come back.

The argument was initially over some stupid frat party Craig was invited to. He had tried to convince his girlfriend to go, he wanted her to be there. Despite all of his persuading, she continued to refuse. He was frustrated, not because she wouldn’t go to the irrelevant party, but that she seemed to refuse to support him.

He had left her room, tears clouding up his vision. After leaving her, he wandered around campus aimlessly, trying to understand how their relationship has taken such a drastic turn for the worst. He had come to fall helplessly for the girl, Craig would do anything for her. So how did they get to this place? 

How did they get to the point where they spent hours upon hours yelling and screaming at one another when all they wanted to do was kiss each other’s lips? How did they get to the point where they fall asleep in separate beds, using their pillow to drown out their sobs? How was their love that was once so pure, falling apart before their very eyes?

The thought of it tore both of them apart. Zahra clutched her pillow tighter, wanting some sort of comfort. Craig kicked a rock on the sidewalk, desperate to take his frustrations out on something. 

As the moon rose further in the night sky, their sorrows seemed to intensify. They were both lost without one another, but they were also both too stubborn to admit it. The pair was hopelessly in love, despite what they believed.

Craig ran his hands over his face in frustration, his thoughts beginning to clear. He had realized he was pushing his girlfriend to her limits, and he wasn’t completely sure why. He just wanted her support, but she always provided it. While she may never be front row at a football game or by his side at another party, she did support him. Zahra made a point to comfort him after a loss, or have endless tournaments of video games whenever he wanted to celebrate. She was trying her best, and Craig was going to accept that.

Zahra rubbed at her eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. She was pushing her boyfriend away, and she wasn’t completely sure why. She just wanted him to understand her, and when he pressured her into parties, games, stuff that wasn’t her she snapped. She didn’t explain herself, she just pushed him away because he didn’t understand what she was feeling.

He arrived at her door an hour later. Craig lifted his arm, hesitating for a moment, debating whether or not he should knock. After one more moment, his fist hit the wood, sounding through her dorm. She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes once more before pulling herself from her bed. Zahra crossed the room, pulling open the door to face her boyfriend.

They didn’t have to say anything to one another, they just fell into each other’s arms. Zahra sobbed into Craig’s chest as she held him tightly, not wanting to watch him leave again. Craig rubbed her hair gently, wanting to provide comfort to the girl he walked out on.

The pair had settled into Zahra’s bed, wordlessly holding one another. They sat there for hours, cuddled up against each other. Zahra’s tears had stopped flowing, Craig’s anger faded away. They just wanted to be together.

As the alarm clock on her nightstand struck twelve, Craig began to untangle himself from his girlfriend. She immediately sits up, gripping his wrist to prevent him from moving further. “Are you not mad at me?” Craig questioned, confused at her actions.

“I am mad, Craig. And I wish I could ask you to leave, but I want you to stay,” She explains, her eyes darting from his. He places a gentle kiss to her lips, savoring every inch of her. Craig lays back in the bed, taking Zahra in his arms, the couple completely content entangled with one another.