#the entire house's environment fucking unlivable

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

either this is a change that has happened in the last..... two years (unlikely), or i'm just now starting to notice, but i stg sometimes my parents act just fucking ridiculous

[blackwomanwriter]

"Mine"

Read: Part I, Part II

It's been a minute, but I finally wrote something. And of course, I had to go back to this series because there is something about Thomas Shelby. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and let me know your favorite part. Happy Reading!

He entered quietly like he was on a mission. Although this one was unlike the ones he had performed during the war and after. No, this mission was different. Very different. Yet, Tommy performed it with the same intensity.

Eyes narrowed on the quiet interior, clocking each entry point and exit way, like a soldier, he assessed his environment. He hadn’t been in a house this small since his childhood. Even back then, the space had felt cluttered and cramped. Too noisy to think. Too busy to breathe. The stench of his father’s hangover in the air before it disappeared altogether.

He remembered talking Arthur out of trying to find their father. A man unworthy of carrying - no, sharing his surname. Tommy tensed his jaw, moving past the memory. Instead, he raised a brow at how devastatingly clean the entire place felt. Physically tidy, but clean in a way that made the house feel empty. Unlived. Unloved. Cold. The opposite of everything he thought of her. She was warm. Tender. Inviting.

Moving to the narrow staircase, he could hear the water running. The pipes pushing the water through the house. She was here. She was alive. She was avoiding him - again.

He hiked up the stairs, stepping one foot in front of the other. Like a soldier, he kept moving. He carried on with the task before him. His mind focused on the mission.

Opening the door quietly, Tommy leaned on the door frame - taking in the sight before him. Curved hips that were fuller since he had last seen her. A waist that tempted him to wrap his arms around her. It was now that he reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Jesus, Tommy,” she shrieked. The click of his lighter giving him away.

She rested a hand on her heart, shuddering as she closed her eyes.

Unbothered, he traced the stick along his bottom lip before lighting it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, as her breath steadied.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he stated. Gaze unchanged. Smoke filling the air.

“I’m in mourning,” she enunciated, grabbing a towel to cover herself. She didn’t bother hiding her frustrations as she shoved past him. She was angry. He liked her angry.

At first, when she didn’t answer his call, he had briefly worried that she was sad. Tearful over the sudden death of her husband, who the police found floating in the river after a night of drinking. His death ruled accidental according to the official report. A drunken man’s blunder. An unsurprising end of life. An expected death for a man who drank as much as her late husband did.

An easy lie to believe, but she knew the truth. The greatest mistake the dead man had made was marrying Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore. It was her mistake more than his. She knew what she was doing when she said yes. The risks she was taking by marrying while Tommy was off in America. Her moment of rebellion had cost a life.

Although, they had gotten past the letter. She hadn’t returned to him. She wanted to keep her promise. To stay married. To honor what was left of her vows. She wouldn’t work for him. She wouldn’t see him. The temptation of losing herself in him made her stay away. She had already ruined the sanctity of her marriage by sleeping with him in his office. She didn’t want to continue making a mockery of the words she vowed before God and man.

She was suddenly religious, which amused Tommy. He thought it was a game, but she clung on to every word spoken by the priest. At the funeral, she remembered his words at the wedding. How he had pressed upon her the importance of repentance. Before Thomas Shelby, she had been a good girl. Never told a lie. Prayed before bed. Devout daughter. Devoted sister. An upstanding and honorable member of her community. He had changed her. Corrupted her. Loved her. Destroyed her.

“It’s been weeks,” Tommy stated coolly.

She ignored him. Her hands focused on the cream she was applying to her skin. Smooth skin. Soft skin. Skin his lips remembered. The taste imprinted on his tongue. Tommy exhaled.

His patience was wearing thin. He loved her. She loved him. He figured out how to help her keep her promise and allow him to keep his. Her husband was dead, and she was free.

“I see you’re eating again,” he quipped, trying to stir a reaction out of her. She didn’t disappoint. He ducked as the bottle of cream nearly struck his head.

“I went from being a whore to being a widow.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a book.” Tommy shrugged then ducked again. This time, she threw a shoe.

“At least I can bargain my way into heaven as a whore,” she resolved, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Is that what your priest tells you?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips for another drag.

He knew. Of course, he knew. She wondered if he was having her followed again. How else would he know about her visits to the church. Her talks with the priest.

“My greatest sin is you,” she finished her thought.

Her words were meant to be cutting, but Tommy remained unbothered. His eyes stoic, jaw set as if he was watching a horse race. He brought his cigarette to his lip, letting it dangle as he neared her. 

She stood up, ready to shove past him again, but he grabbed her forearm. Her eyes flared up at him as she tried to loosen his grip, but he remained firm.

“You want to talk about sins, ey?” He whispered against her ear. “You married a man who picked a pint over his life. A man who stowed you away in a house he couldn’t bear to live in himself, while he stayed three doors down with his brother’s wife.”

She frowned, hearing him confirm a suspicion she wouldn’t allow herself to believe. When he stopped coming home, she told herself that he was drunk at a pub or sleeping his hangover off at his mother’s house.

“A man who lost his wages betting on fights.”

So that’s where all their money had gone, she thought. Her face didn’t flinch as Tommy confirmed another truth. Her late husband was just another man who had let her down. All the words she threw at Tommy about him being a good man were lies. He was just better at hiding his wrongs.

Tommy softened his grip on her hand, as he relayed the sin that he couldn’t forgive. The sin that forced him to intervene without thinking of the consequences. “A man who was willing to sell his wife to settle his debts.”

Her eyes widened then glazed over. The shred of innocence he once found in those warm brown irises was quickly disappearing. He cursed at himself for the letter, but it wasn’t just the letter. It was the months he left her wondering if he could ever love again. It was the voice that told him to push her away. She married the man because of him.

Tommy released her hand. There was a part of him that wished he hadn’t been so honest. Her hardened eyes told him just as much. The look on her face was one he had seen before in the women who dared to love him. When his darkness eventually shadowed their light. When his world swallowed them whole.

She reached for the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Taking a long drag, she exhaled. The smoke covering Tommy’s face.

“My sin was marrying the wrong man,” she concluded.

His thumb brushed her skin, remembering when her lips pressed against his in hunger. His lip bleeding as their need took precedence. Her lip bruised from his appetite. Even when he had her, he needed more. Tracing her lip, he gently placed the cigarette between his fingers then lifted it to his mouth. The first puff was for the memory. The second was for his patience.

“No, my god doesn’t care about sins.”

“I didn’t think you believed in,” sighing, she looked up, “anything.”

Tommy closed his eyes. His patience wearing on him again. “You’re moving out of this house. You’re coming back to work, and you’re going to answer when I call.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” she answered.

His jaw ticked at the use of his surname. The smoke from his cigarette creating a haze over his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Tell me what your god thinks about whores.”

“Everyone’s a whore,” he muttered, as he moved toward the door, already thinking of his next order of business. The kiss would have to wait.

“Is that what your wife thinks?”

Tommy stopped walking. Leaning his hand on the door frame, he closed his eyes. His nose flared. His annoyance growing with her disobedience. He seemed to attract women who were determined to do the opposite of what he asked.

“She confronted me. Told me to stay away,” she admitted, and in that second, he realized why she ignored him. She was no longer his secret. He made his affection too obvious.

“I’ll take care of it,” he firmly stated, leaving no room for further questions. Yet, she continued.

“Does she follow any of the other girls or is it just me?” She asked.

He wasn’t ready to admit that there weren’t any other girls. That there hadn’t been other girls for a while. From the moment he declared his love, Tommy had made himself hers - only hers.

“You love me, but there are others,” she whispered. “I love you, but all I do is think of them. To be with you, I have to worry about them. I have to wait to be yours.”

“Is that what you’re doing then - waiting?” He asked, closing the distance between them.

Her hand dropped to her middle and Tommy’s eyes followed. He stared, then frowned before bringing his gaze back to her. “How far along?”

Her eyes softened. The grief coloring every muscle in her face. Tommy closed his eyes. She was in mourning. He understood her words clearly now. It was moments like this that made him miss Polly. She would have known.

Tommy muttered something in his Romanian tongue as he sat on the bed. He stamped his cigarette out in silent rage. There was never an end. Death seemed to find him at every turn. It hunted him. Craved him.

His hands went to her robe. Slowly, he pulled the fabric, revealing her body. A body that had prepared itself to carry his child. A body that had nourished him back to life. His fingers moved to her belly, tracing the skin there. The soft, smooth skin.

He looked up at her and saw the tears she wouldn’t shed. How long had she held them in, unable to weep. Unable to speak. Unable to fully mourn. Wrapping his arms around her middle, he pulled her in and kissed the place his hands had touched. He tried to do what she had done for him; he tried to make it okay for her to feel.

“I’m fine, Tommy. It’s better this way,” she said, her voice cold and void of any emotion.

“When?” He whispered, knowing it was his, and yet wondering how he’d missed so much in so little time.

“It doesn’t matter,” she stiffened. “It’s gone now, and I need to move on.”

She gave him a second to make peace with the reality she had lived with for weeks. Then, she moved from his touch, closing her robe as she distanced herself. Loving him was painful enough without the added grief of their lost child.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she folded her arms, avoiding his gaze.

Tommy raised a brow, staring at her before glancing around the room. It was as cold as the rest of the house - bare of any details or remnants of her. Standing up, Tommy found a new mission. He moved past her in search of anything that made the four walls more of a home.

His hands traced the metal bed frame. His fingers trailing the linen and cloth. He opened windows and tapped on wooden walls. He inspected the little furniture in the room, unsatisfied with the results.

“Tommy,” she started to say as he pushed open a wardrobe, finding it empty.

She was leaving. She planned to leave London. She planned to leave him. The thought stung in Tommy’s mind as he opened drawer after empty drawer. His anger taking center stage.

“Tommy,” her voice raised with concern.

He shoved the empty wardrobe back, watching as it crashed against the wall.

“Stop,” she yelled, as he shoved the wardrobe again and again. His grief coloring his anger. His anger coloring his grief. Her heart jumped as the wooden drawers finally cracked under the pressure. The splitting wood overshadowing her screams as the wardrobe completely fell apart.

“Tommy,” she cried, rushing to stop him from breaking the wood further. “Stop.”

“Please,” she whispered. Her plea full of a love she couldn’t deny him.

He exhaled. The sound of his heightened breath taking all the space in the room. His anger taking all the air. Tommy closed his eyes. The familiar whispers creeping in his head, telling him to put out the fire. To walk over to the other side. To let go of this life. To finally rest.

She swallowed, unsure of what to tell him, and yet, she persisted. “My sister found work outside of London. She thought it’d be good for me…”

Tommy shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“I wanted to tell you,” she stopped, lowering her head. There was nothing to say.

He scoffed. “Tell me.”

It felt like deja vu to hear him utter those words to her again. To hear the same command. The same request he’d asked from her when she told him about the wedding. Yet, this time, there was nothing left to say.

She stared at the back of his head. Her fingers yearning to brush his hair or wrap themselves around him. Her lips longing to kiss the nape of his neck.

Closing her eyes, she confessed. “There’s no life for me here.”

“You’re not leaving.” He pushed back, ignoring her words. “You’re mine.”

“When?” She sighed. “When am I yours, Tommy?”

He lifted his head, staring at the wall. His mind moving a mile a minute. She couldn’t leave him. His heart wouldn’t allow it. His body would protest. His hunger was contained to her. His thoughts all went back to her. How many minutes until he can think of her? How many meetings until he can dream of her? He suffered without her to be with her. Every hour he was away was an hour he promised to give to her.

He was a selfish man, who wanted what he wanted. A man who endured wars and monsters disguised as men. A cursed man. A broken man. A suffering man. A man who didn’t deserve her, and yet, he wanted her. He needed her. She was the cigarette on his lips. The pain tablets in his pocket. The shirt on his back. The razor blade on his cap. She couldn’t leave him.

“When your wife is gone? When you’re fucking other women?” Her voice continued in the background, but Tommy was half-listening. “When you’re bored? When the nightmares come? When the work is done? When am I yours?” She asked again, although there was no anger in her question.

“When you married him, you were mine. Every time you put on his fucking ring; you were mine.” His brows furrowed as he reached into his side pocket for a cigarette. “When you moved into this house, you were mine. When you had my fucking child inside of you, you were mine.” Tommy sniffed, turning to face her. “From the moment you entered my office, you belonged to me.”

She stiffened, as she traced her empty ring finger. His crassness didn’t bother her as much as his refusal to listen. He disregarded her words, only focusing on what he wanted. It was why she didn’t want to tell him about the baby. He would have stuck her in a big house that he would never visit. Given her everything except the thing she wanted, which was him. But now that nightmare wasn’t even a reality because she’d lost their child. She'd lost a piece of him.

“Is that all it takes…” she started to argue, but words were pointless. Their arguments were pointless. They had a love that was cursed from inception.

In this life, he was promised to another. In the next, he would be reunited with another. In life and death, she had no place in Thomas Shelby’s life. Her love for him didn’t save their unborn child. It reminded her that their love had no place to grow. It was wilted, and no amount of money or prayer could save them.

“You’re not leaving,” Tommy declared, cornering her until she had no choice but to look up at him.  Her brown eyes sinking into him, full of a love he didn’t deserve.

“You made me a promise,” he whispered. His jaw tensing as he remembered that night in his office when he had made himself hers. When he had promised to live. To stop craving death. The gods had given him a second chance with her.

“Tommy,” she protested, but he continued.

“You gave me your word.” His lips brushed hers and her body shuddered. “You made promises to me. Promises I intend to collect.”

His hand slipped down to her robe, loosening the ties. His fingers marking a trail from her chest to her neck to her lips. “Promises you agreed to keep.”

She folded under his touch. Her head falling on his chest as she exhaled. Quick, short breaths that made Tommy pull her in closer.

“And what of your promises?” She grabbed his fingers before they could slip between her thighs.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, trying not to smirk. “Remind me again.”

Shaking her head, she moved from his hands. Her heart ached, but it would always ache whether she was with him or not. He was not wrong. It belonged to him. From the moment she entered his office, her heart had become his. Knowing he was promised to another, it still beat for him. It yearned for him. It acted without consequence.

Thou shall not commit adultery. A vow she’d broken within a month of knowing Thomas Shelby. But her heart didn’t care. It didn’t care about the commandments she broke. Her sins were plenty but her heart was full. Full of love for a man who couldn’t confess his love until she married another.

Turning away from him, she closed her robe. Her hand wanted to follow the trail he etched on her skin, but she didn’t. She could hear him lighting a cigarette. His eyes on her. His eyes undressing her. His eyes claiming her as his.

She wanted to run, but her heart wouldn’t let her. Instead, she willed herself to face him. Smoke in the air. His scent in every crevice of the cramped room. She inhaled and tried to tell him again. Her thoughts were on her lips, and yet, nothing.

Offering her his cigarette, Tommy stepped towards her. “Leaving London won’t cure you of me.”

She reached for the smoke. Grateful for the distraction. For the heat. For the vapors. For the way her lungs would expand and contract. For the cigarette they shared between them. His lips on her lips. Her lips on his.

“That priest of yours won’t help you either,” he added.

“What is the cure then?”

Tommy leaned into her. His hands on her waist, slowly moving her robe up past her knees then her thighs. “First, you have to stop running.”

“Running?” She asked, confused by his accusation.

“The wedding. The job. This house.” He counted. “And now these plans of leaving London.” His hands pushed the fabric of her robe from her skin, leaving her naked before him. “You mustn’t run.”

“And what if I do?” She questioned, not allowing her nudity to dissuade her.

Tommy brushed her cheek before taking the cigarette from her lips. “I’ll find you. Remind you of where you belong.”

“And where is it that I belong?” She asked. Her eyes gentle and pleading. 

He brought her hand to his chest, placing it where his heart lay. “Here. Right here.”

She swallowed her nerves, terrified of letting her heart speak. “Second?” She went back to his list.

“Second.” He took a drag, exhaling the smoke before he continued, “You must know, I get scared,” he admitted, and she finally understood why he’d written her that letter. Thomas Shelby was scared of loving her. The first woman he loved died in his arms because of a bullet meant for him. Love was something to fear, and he was terrified.

“Now, it’s unpleasant and it’s unkind. But when I am…”

“I’ll remind you,” she finished, “of where you belong.”

Tommy cupped her face, placing a kiss on her head. “Good.”

She closed her eyes. Her heart too fragile for Thomas Shelby’s confession. He hadn’t proposed, yet they were already exchanging vows.

“Last.” He leaned his head on hers. “And the most important.”

“Yes,” she breathlessly whispered.

Tommy’s finger traced her bottom lip before he kissed her. His lips hungry to taste her. Selfish in his desire - his consumption of her. He groaned when he felt her kiss him back. Her own need just as desperate as his. She moaned when their lips parted, disappointed by her body’s need for air.

“I promise to have you pregnant by spring.”

Her eyes lit up as she laughed for the first time in months. She chuckled, not taking him seriously. “Tommy.”

“A boy,” he declared, wrapping his arms around her middle. “He’ll have your eyes and my charm.”

She giggled, playfully hitting his chest as he picked her up and placed her on the bed. Her smile widening as she gazed at him. She was returning to herself - returning to him. Weeks of grief slowly thawing from her heart.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette before joining her with a kiss. His body on top of hers. His hands on either side of her head. His mind fixated on the softness of her skin.

“I’ll be back at work in the morning,” she whispered in between kisses.

“You won’t be working anymore.”

She pulled away from his kiss, frowning at him. “What are you on about, Tommy?”

He sighed, already knowing he was about to start another fight. “I won’t have you working with a child of mine inside of you.”

“What?”

“You’ll be carrying my son,” Tommy repeated.

Closing her eyes, she realized he was serious. Of course, he was serious. She wondered how long he’d been planning to get her pregnant again.

“I don’t deserve you,” Tommy kissed her lips. “But, I promised to give you a life worthy of everything you are.” He reminded her. “I promised to let you in my head. I promised to do more than just wait to die. I promised to live.”

She wanted to be angry with him, but he remembered. Every word. Every promise. Everything they had discussed in his office.

“I promised to keep you safe.”

“To make us safe,” she corrected.

He kissed her again. “There are no other girls,” Tommy confessed, reminding her of his other promise. Tommy Shelby was hers.

Grabbing his collar, she pulled him into a long kiss. “No more running,” she vowed.

Tommy smiled. “No more.” He pressed his lips on hers before adding, “You’re mine.”

This time, she didn’t argue, simply letting him kiss her. “Now, where were we, Mrs. Shelby?” He asked, slipping his fingers between her thighs.

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This was a long one. If you made it to the end, thank you for reading! Let me know your favorite part.

[idrisofficial]

🚨 all 3 warryns

🚨 (siren) - What’s your character’s relationship with the law? Have they ever been arrested? What for? What are their opinions on law enforcement?

lennox: lennox sees the law as a means to maintain order. he has no particular affinity for idrisian laws themselves, and brinne has certainly convinced him that there’s little merit in a monarchy. he could take or leave the theocratic laws; he understands them as a means of controlling the people and respects their purpose as thay. obviously he’s never been arrested, although theoretically brinne probably could have him jailed for his assumption of her royal duties while she’s depressed. she won’t do that. lennox is fascinated by political structures and from a point of morality does feel bad that idris’s happen to fuck most of its citizens over. at his core, he does believe in freedom more than most other nobles. but he considers his self-preservation and the country’s prosperity much more important than any real positive change for ordinary citizens. primarily, as the leader of the house of justice, he wants to enforce the law that exists and keep the population in line so that the country can prosper as best it can in accordance with tradition. the fact that he doesn’t personally give a fuck about tradition has little bearing on the work he carries out. he’s good like that. separating his own ideas from the ideas he knows are right (ha) for the country.

mikhail: mikhail is not immune to propaganda. when he bothers to care about how his house’s decisions actually impact people, he’s mostly supportive of increasing governmental power and stabilizing various legal hierarchies. censorship laws in particular make perfect sense to him because of how they reinforce his elite status—of course common people aren’t allowed to speak badly about government officials, but it’s perfectly fine if he does it, because he was just born one of the gods’ favorites. he listened to what he was taught in lessons. he doesn’t fully buy that the law is the product of divine ordination, but it’s a convenient explanation and mikhail is the most well-steeped in social conditioning of his siblings (meaning he’s also the most religious of them, even if he’s not exactly devout). he thinks countries with laws that differ greatly from idris’s are foolish and harbor their own self-destruction, even when they’re overall much more successful nations compared with idris. but in general he doesn’t feel too strongly about it. he just follows his siblings and spends the rest of his time basking in the hedonism of nobility. no cause for arrest or anything of the like here.

kaia: kaia is the least religious of the three, practically atheistic. she holds little regard for halcyonism personally or as an institution and in terms of law is much more driven by her inner morality. said inner morality, though, is bad. having been only thirteen and still majorly developing at the time of artemis’s massacre, her stance on law enforcement is pretty brutal. she’s not very popular among the public and for good reason. kaia and brinne don’t have a very positive relationship, but brinne has a shred more respect for kaia than she does for other nobles because of their agreement on national security and harsh criminal punishment. this is one of the few things kaia and lennox really argue about. it drives a wedge in their relationship, especially with the silent reminder of natal’s execution that permeate the conversation. she is often frustrated by the law, though. she thinks a lot of the restrictions placed on the public generate a genuinely unlivable environment, but she’s stopped too often by bureaucracy and her own aversion to risk-taking to be able to change them. halcyonism’s influence on the law feels entirely convoluted and unfair to her, but she doesn’t really see any option but to work around it. the last thing she wants is the trouble of being called a heretic. with the way brinne is becoming, she probably could be arrested for it.

[thepolyamorouspolymath]

This is actually exactly one of the things I've been yelling about climate change, and very few people seem to focus on, in this very strange way....

You hear a fucking insane amount about rising ocean levels. Now objectively this is bad because it changes currents abd therefore weather and migratory patterns. But the "50% of the world's population lives near a coast and those will be flooded out" is just a fucking weird take. It rises by like an inch a year at most. That's a lot of warning. Have people lost the ability to migrate due to weather conditions, the thing we demonstrated regularly throughout the evolutionary process? It's a loss of property value. Where do we house them with less land instead? Ah well, you see there's this whole thing of building up instead of out? You might have seen it in any city that has geographic constraints on sprawl?

It's a problem but on a human level it is a solvable problem. (What effects it will have on ocean life is a different story -- evolution is weird, life finds a way, etc. The problems could range from completely dead oceans (even sharks, I know!) causing raging fucked up weather patterns all the way down to the balance of power just shifting in the ecosystem a bit and the weather having a bad teen years period until the new normal version of currents are established. And anywhere in between. (Personally I find the complete unpredictability terrifying -- you can plan for an expected disaster, one that surprises you fucks you up. Think hurricane with days of warning versus a tornado of equal duration and area bc those fuckers give you like 30 seconds.)

Then there's temperatures in parts of the world like the Middle East which will become Death Valley redux. Temps climb too high during the day and don't get to come down enough at night, you have an unlivable condition. Again, no denying that's bad. There are some ideas to cope -- people want to colonize Mars right? That same tech to survive on Mars could be used to live entirely indoors on Earth with climate control in areas that are not habitable. Or again, humanity has moved a lot due to environments getting shitty.

Arable land for food. Now that is an issue, especially if we lose ocean meat sources (vegetarians and vegans I'm aware mankind can live without meat but since eating meat is what allowed our brains to develop higher functions, let's not just brush it off) because grazing land is required. But we could definitely reduce meat consumption and while some of our arable areas are drying up there's likely other areas that are going to become far more productive. (Look at the changes in arable land in Mesopotamia area including Egypt, which was the bread basket of the ancient world, long before climate change.) And for plants, well might I again recommend looking up? There's a fascinating design for hydroponic towers in the Great Lakes the size of skyscrapers. For plant life in general, we've all see the concepts of covering buildings in plants like mosses and ivy and shit, right?

The big problem here is SPEED. It's happening too fast for evolution to keep up. But so is technology.

I don't deny any of these are critical problems that we should do everything to slow, stop, and prepare for -- all three at the same time because shit is unpredictable, so let's cover bases.

But my climate bogeyman is the permafrost. First because as it melts its going to skyrocket CO2 levels, and because there's lakes of real explosive methane trapped in there that no one wants, but the BODIES.

Tens of thousands of years of bodies that have not decomposed with viruses and bacteria humans never met or our immune systems have long forgotten, easily capable of living in permafrost for ever -- shit lives on fucking comets in colder and also the vacuum.

Covid was so bad, so horrifying? Imagine a new one every year, every 6 months as it escapes a half inch less of permafrost where a sample was hanging out. Spanish Flu was twice as fatal as Covid. Bubonic Plague knocks them both out of the water with a 16% mortality rate WITH ANTIBIOTICS AND TREATMENT. Smallpox, that fucking champ, came in at a full 30%.

Those are just a few examples that we know of, and I choose for their ability to turn into a pandemic, as opposed to something like Ebola which is at 50-90% but kills in such a way its not the most effective at reaching global contamination.

And one of those would be bad. Any of them you're looking at probably a billion deaths. But hey weve gotten faster at developing treatments and vaccines at least right? Sure.

Except if they're coming, a totally different disease every 3 years, we won't be.

I know every climate change opponent has their own thing that they think is most critical for ensuring humanity survives, but to me, it's the giant petri dish of the Great White North.

girls go to college to get more knowledge. men go to svalbard to die in the polar night.

[tenitchyfingers]

Since you want to be anal: billionaires should not exist, because nobody needs billions to survive. Rich people literally buy yachts because they don’t know what to do with their money (look up Abigail Disney). Upwards to a certain point they should have their wealth redistributed to the lower classes. But billionaires want to be billionaires and not pay taxes, that’s why the Panama Papers were a thing.

And like, in Scandinavian countries rich people are taxed heavily and they usually don’t bitch about it because more taxes=more services and they understand that. Scandinavian democracies work because on some level they’re inspired by socialism, and they’re the countries where people are happiest, and they sure as hell aren’t poor. The idea that resources are limited and that “there are too many people on earth” was invented by capitalism and is inspired by eugenics. “Trickle down economy” is a fairytale, because that’s not how things are.

Also, capitalism is the reason our planet is so damaged and our climate is reaching levels of heat that are going to make the planet unlivable for most of us. Capitalism is why we haven’t globally switched to clean forms of energy - because big oil lobbies are holding governments by the balls, even though renewables are cheaper to produce and more convenient for everyone. Capitalism as it is now is greed with no conscience, simply put. Native cultures have thrived for millennia without harming the environment, only companies operating under capitalist rules are destroying entire ecosystems for profit. And who are the first to suffer? Emerging economies and peoples who live in the south of the world.

Also, capitalism is the reason why renters are in the situation they are right now, by the way. Rent should be suspended for everyone until quarantine is over for everyone, but what they’re doing is they’re kicking everyone out because people are losing their capability to pay rent after getting laid off because of the quarantine. Landowners can afford to not perceive rent for a few months, renters can not afford to lose their home. And the other fucked up thing about capitalism in this sense is that rich people invested in real estste during the housing crisis when houses were cheap, and are now exploiting the situation to rent out places that are almost always in shit conditions. Because landowners can’t even be bothered to make their property comfortable for renters, and they won’t do that because there’s always someone desperate enough to accept a shit apartment. And it shouldn’t be like this. Also, a house is a primary need and speculation on houses should not be allowed. There are so many abandoned houses, those places should be used to give homeless people a roof. Nobody is using them anyway, so the poorest should have the right to occupy them.

As for surplus being destroyed, look no further than malls. Did you know that at the end of every day malls throw away and destroy their goods if they’re nearing their expiration date, when that surplus could be distributed to charities for the next day? But no, they don’t do so because rich people are simply evil, there’s no other explanation there.

And like ok, maybe capitalism can exist without being dismantled completely, but the economy should be controlled closely. What should be dismantled is liberism. Free market? Yeah, but only up to a certain point. Otherwise in a few years there will be companies selling us the air we breathe, you’ll see. I mean, they’re already selling water which is something we need to satisfy a primary need we all have, and this means they can pick and choose who can access clean water (Ferguson? Ring a bell? That shit is happening because of capitalism and rich people’s interests). That’s pure cruelty under capitalism. Water should have never been privatized. And I know they’ll do the same with the air we breathe. It sounds absurd now, but A/C is already something that is sold and not for cheap, after all. And what is AC for? For the elders and people with respiratory issues, having AC is a matter of survival. That’s why thousands of people die every year in hotter countries every summer - they can’t afford an AC system. And since the fossil fuel industry created global warming, the least they should do is equip every home and every enclosed public space with an AC system. But they don’t do that because they are evil. And I understand for some people being evil just comes natural, but they should be punished for it. They should not be allowed to be evil, and yet the global economy stands on evil and greed. Tax evasion IS the economy. Speculation and cruelty ARE the economy. And just because that’s how it is, that doesn’t mean things are fine the way they are.

just saw “this show is bad because nobody will write fanfiction about this character of color” placed as a legitimate take. i don’t say this often but…..please go outside.